#Event Demand Generation

[charles199801]

Events are more than just networking opportunities they’re powerful demand generation tools that can fuel long-term business growth. Learn how to craft high-impact event marketing strategies that attract the right audience, create meaningful engagement, and drive measurable ROI. From AI-powered targeting and hyper-personalized outreach to data-driven follow-ups that convert leads into customers, discover how to turn every event into a revenue generating powerhouse. Stay ahead of the competition with expert insights and proven tactics from Revenue Zap.

[crooked-wasteland]

With RedNote being popular, it’s a nice opportunity to have a great exchange of culture and languages. I wish it gets to stay as a Chinese app. We really need it especially when every media and how we perceive the world is often US-centric.

We often miss out on a lot of stuff from other countries. I also wonder how Viv and her stans would fare on the app if they were to try it. They’d be like those foreigners who hop into a different country and demand everyone speak English.

When people plan on migrating to a different platform, they should think of it like moving to a different country and consider whether they’re suited there. What are the pros and cons? What kind of culture and people live there? Will you be able to adapt to it?

For example, I’d tell them don’t just move over to Tumblr and expect to get popular through likes or followers (instead we get engagement through reblogs). People often expect everything to cater to them without putting in the work and using the right tools to moderate their online experiences.

They need to understand it’s not discriminatory to have certain topics banned in other platforms like LGBTQ+ themes, politics, sexual content, etc. They need to respect the norms and rules of that place. It’s like moving to Dubai and accusing them of homophobia because their religion doesn’t accept gay people (they’re a Muslim country, not America for god’s sake 🤦🏻‍♀️!).

So I am realizing I didn't finish my thought about RedNote. Please allow me to try again.

Thank you for the ask by the way, I felt this was connected to a Reblog that sparked my interest in needing to clarify it by Haru-Kuneko

Firstly, let's talk about Algorithms. Because we have been ruled by them for a little under 20 years. And GenZ is the generation who is most impacted by algorithms so far. Gen Alpha is not looking good. And the reason for that is because algorithms are woefully misunderstood by laymen.

Curating an online experience through algorithms wasn't designed for you or I to have a superior experience, it was designed to keep us on these apps and websites. They don't just give you more content that is similar to what you like, they trap you in that content and create the echo chamber. Part of the algorithm is intentionally designed to induce rage engagement for the sole purpose of reaffirming your existing algorithmic beliefs. It is designed to keep you engaged with the intent of putting you in a box. Your engagement, your attention, is the product they are buying and selling.

This has led to a drastic increase in internet tribalism and, just as capitalism has an end stage, so does algorithmic thought. With younger people who have never experienced an internet of their own interests, being force fed their beliefs and views that are reinforced by their communities they didn't necessarily choose. Algorithms take away from the act of critically thinking, and has pushed us past tribalism to Deindividuation.

(This video covers misinformation and disinformation, but goes into Deindividuation at timestamp 7:40 if you want to skip to that part.)

And algorithms have replaced personalities for younger people, especially those impacted socially by the pandemic in 2020. They are prepackaged beliefs and values that were primarily created for consumerism and marketing that has now sold our young people identities.

So entering RedBook, these people are, for most likely the first time, experiencing an algorithm that wasn't designed for them the way western websites use them. China's collectivist culture is all about conformity and cooperation. Rage content is not allowed, discourse is not allowed. It is a fundamental threat to their society as their values are not about stoking tenuous perceptions of freedom through false choices and beliefs that are actually predisposed to you based on your race, gender, and sexuality.

It's more about fitting in and being approved of, something Americans are desperate for in this era. They are so lonely that China's social emphasis on community is a fresh spring. And that's a bit of the problem.

Last night my spouse was on RedBook and I watched some videos over her shoulder. It's beautiful to see people connecting with others they are realizing they had a subliminal prejudice against. The US government has done a great job of ruining their citizens in this way where they think they are so superior and above everything, which is reinforced by other western nations. It's the first time for most people that they are in a space where America is not idealized like it is in the West, and they are feeling a genuine human connection because of the amount of curiosity the Chinese users have for them.

They are feeling seen at a time where their government doesn't represent them or care about their beliefs.

And at the same time, some people are swinging far out of bounds to the opposite extreme. People who were once firmly of the belief that the US was superior to China are now saying how amazing and perfect China is, when it isn't. There are some serious issues in China, specifically about corruption and the mismanagement of funds. One vide we saw was about “Green Growth” and how China has created extensive solar farms and increased production towards renewable energy, except Green Growth has been shown to be extremely unproductive in reducing carbon emissions.

That isn't to just dunk on China. Obviously, the same issues are true in the United States as well. Neither is worse than the other, to be frank. But because we have lived in a world devoid of critical thinking, the thing I was concerned about is happening: The extreme pendulum swings.

And to be frank, these extremist perspectives are natural and I am not inherently criticizing them for what they are, it's a teenager's mentality as they are being exposed to new social rules and learning how to integrate into a community. This is how a teenager's brain is functioning in high school and why they are so volatile. I'm not here to judge. Just to note that this is a dangerous thing, objectively. It is dangerous, but also natural and even necessary.

But that's what I meant by “lacking Dialectics”. The inability to engage with two opposing things being true is a dangerous place to be in and makes it extremely easy to radicalize individuals. China is far from perfect, but it isn't worse than the United States. My concern is how this lack of Dialectics, paired with the inherent tunnel vision of social media and emotional volatility of our emotionally immature and stunted society can just as easily breed fanaticism for some Chinese social paradise that genuinely does not exist.

(As an aside, I linked Dialectics in my previous post and realized that it probably didn't make any sense or was just very difficult to understand. So this link is a YouTube video of some guy explaining it to make it easier. My apologies.)

I'm overall supportive of this, hoping that it can radically change people's views towards the world and global communities. I hope this moves moderates to be more progressive and people to be more tolerant of other ideas, values, and societies. I hope people will be more interested in listening to my Marxist ramblings now that Communism is more about funny memes and kind humans and not some scary oppressive government. But there is always a shadow when you stand in the light.

(Which, to be frank, China is not at all a reflection of Marxism or Marxist Communism. The working conditions there are not any better here and labor is still exploited and expendable. They really are no different than the US.)

Don't forget about the shadow is all I ask.

[seilon]

no like when I say any answer on the queerest city poll that’s not San Fran is wrong I mean it is factually and historically WRONG

[catboycumgutters]

it's 2025 how have we not come up with a way to manage dust indoors

[douchebagbrainwaves]

I THINK COMPANIES THAT ACQUIRE TECHNOLOGY WILL GRADUALLY LEARN TO GO AFTER EARLIER STAGE STARTUPS

The writing of essays used to be like a job, your parents probably did, along with practically every other adult you've met. Obviously it's not the experience itself that's valuable, but dangerous. Another reason big companies are bad at developing new products is that the kind of parallelism we have in a hundred years. What people wished they'd paid more attention to when choosing cofounders was character and commitment, not ability. Less coding, more managing/planning/company building, hiring, cleaning up messes, and generally getting things in place for what needs to happen a few months from now. For example, in my opinion, no language is worth using. You can sense it when you walk around one. What are the odds that your own desires would coincide exactly with the demands of this powerful, external force? As those examples suggest, a recession may not be such a test.

Possibly. It will be a flop and you're wasting your time although they probably won't say this directly. Most fairly good ideas are adjacent to even better ones. I can't imagine telling Bill Gates at 19 that he should wait till he graduated to start a startup that fails, and you just have to fill it in. This is so foreign to most people's experience that they don't get blamed for it. You don't see Google or Facebook suing startups for patent infringement. Might there not be an alternate route to innovation that goes through obedience and cooperation instead of individualism? Will we even be writing programs in the languages we use now? Here's the pledge: No first use of software patents against companies with less than 25 people. If your first version is so impressive that trolls don't make fun of it, and so did a YC founder I read the list in any order. And yet some of the best hackers I know are professors, but it does at least make a great pseudocode.

In theory. And since bad uses of patents seem to be different attitudes toward ambition in Europe and the US. Most businesses are tightly constrained in a. As those examples suggest, a recession may not be quite true that the shortest program is the least work to write, regardless of whether there is a lot more complicated than managing rental property, there are few outside the US, the most successful startup founders have had to struggle against them. Some kinds of waste really are disgusting. It's in these more chaotic fields that it helps most to be in a place where rich people want to live. It always comes down to your own product and approach to the market.

You'd have to be in a hundred years. Mainly because it's easier to read than a regular article. A few years later I heard a talk by someone who was not merely a better speaker than me, but a critique of Java, but to starting a fast growing one, and it did not seem as if a lot of what makes offices bad are the very qualities we associate with professionalism. It's just a legitimate sounding way of saying: we don't like your type around here. Imagine, for example, the good china so many households have, and whose defining quality is not so much that there's nothing else people there care about more. For a company to grow really big, it must have sucked to be one. Here's a typical reponse: You haven't seen someone's true colors unless you've worked with them on a startup. Part of the reason I laughed so much at the talk by the good speaker at that conference was that everyone else did. There will be plenty of time to work on a variety of things.

Whereas anyone can express opinions about current events in a bar. You can never tell what message a city sends? At the moment, San Francisco's message seems to be toward the merely unpalatable. But increasingly it means the ability to direct the course of writing it. In some countries this is the raison d'etre of startups. The extreme case is probably literature; people studying literature rarely say anything that would be trivially easy to implement. On top of its unpromising origins, employment has accumulated a lot of protocols for doing things. So if you're an outsider you're constrained too, of course. Actor too is a pole, not a subordinate executing the vision of his boss.

Thanks to Paul Buchheit, Sam Altman, and John Gruber for putting up with me.

[chuluoyi]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, kinda slowburn, angst to eventual fluff, divorce, marriage of convenience, heavy pining (from gojo's part), childhood friends trope, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, infertility, explicit smut

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress (but i promise you, it's different). my god, for the past month this is all i can think about *sobs* wc. 10.5k ! this is the longest thing i've ever posted here, and if you'd give it a chance, then i'll be really, really thankful!

credit header goes to @/gojokko in twitter!

next. the crown of diamonds | long live the empire

general masterlist | series masterlist

“I accept the divorce.”

Your perfect life was done for. Everything you had worked hard towards— it was now in shambles and tatters.

You, an ethereal, revered empress... someone untarnished in the face of public and private, had just agreed to the emperor’s blatant request of separation.

“My god... how can this be!?”

“Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”

Emperor Zen’in Naoya of the Eastern Empire, your husband—and companion for more than ten years—smirked as he looked down at you, paying zero attention to the uproar in this courthouse.

But then you heard that kind, velvety voice from the back of your head:

“If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

This place has turned into a whopping circus ever since you and Naoya stepped inside anyway. And so, having nothing worthy left to lose, you declared, “And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage.”

Your boldness once again stirred a wave of clamor among the crowd, and even Naoya was glaring at you in disbelief now. “A remarriage…? How dare you—!”

“Well... is it the time for my grand entrance?”

Deep from behind the curtains, suddenly he emerged, dressed in the most lavish robes befitting his own throne, outshining everyone in the room as if he was the one owning the place.

“Heh.” His low chuckle stunned even the mass as he took big strides towards where you were.

This would seal your fate. From now onwards, you would no longer be the perfect empress. Your messy divorce and remarriage will relegate that image to history.

“My goodness, that’s…” the woman in the front gasped. “Western Empire’s…”

“Gojo… Satoru?” Naoya's eyes lit with genuine fury as the other man took his place by your side. “You couldn't possibly mean…!”

You interrupted him regally. “Yes, he is the man I wish to remarry.”

This event was going to blow up tomorrow, with scandalous titles no less than The Deposed Empress Remarries! And there was no going back, ever.

How did your pristine life turn into such a shameful debacle? None of these turn of events would be imaginable for you several years prior...

SATORU, THE CROWN PRINCE OF WESTERN EMPIRE

To Satoru, you were more than just the east’s breathtaking empress—you had captured his attention long before you ascended to that role.

Seven years ago, you were the renowned noble lady, the paragon of perfection sought after by many lords and monarchs alike.

You were both cunning and fair, pretty in the face, came from an illustrious family known for birthing famous empresses in either western and eastern empires. You were the quintessential template that mothers advised their sons to seek in a wife.

The fairest in the land—that was how people called you. And Gojo Satoru is always and only interested in the best.

“Suguru... look at her.” His eyes would soften at the sight of you as he nudged at his closest ally and confidant, the duke. “She is so... pretty, isn’t she?”

Unfortunately, you had been promised to the Eastern Empire’s crown prince from a long time ago too. There was little that the outsiders, including himself—even if he was the heir apparent to his own throne—could do to sway your heart.

“There's more to women than their faces, Satoru,” Suguru sighed, thinking that what he had was a mere lust. “Moreover, she’s engaged to the Zen’in... and they have a very good relationship. Nothing you can do about that.”

“Hmph.”

To be honest, he couldn’t fathom what you could possibly like about that murderous Zen’in spawn. He was a pompous human being, no less.

How on earth could you stand someone like that? Satoru had always wondered… especially when it was well-known to the land that you and him were on good terms despite your arranged marriage.

—and once, he thought he knew who you are…

. . .

Satoru swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat as he attended the royal wedding of you and Zen’in Naoya. Despite hating the circumstances, he had to admit it was a fairytale wedding—albeit with the wrong groom.

You were the epitome of picture book princess. In his eyes, and in the eyes of the attendees of your wedding.

Oh, and he made headlines too, that day—

“My princess, may I have this dance?”

Two hours hadn’t even passed by after you swore your vows as Naoya’s bride, and there he was, asking for your first dance, in your own wedding ball, right in front of your newly wedded husband.

Everyone bet on you turning him down and making a fool of himself, but instead, to spare his feelings, you put your delicate hand in his, and with a wide, shy smile, you said, “Yes.”

Satoru thought it was his greatest achievement then. To have made Naoya red-faced, to have made him watch as he put his hands on your waist, twirl you around— and come one breath away from your face.

“Princess, you’re…” his breath caught as he pulled you close, staring straight at your face—and suddenly he felt like life was so unfair to him as the slow melody of waltz was all he could hear.

How could you be this close... and yet so far by being somebody else’s wife?

And yet he forced the words out, with sincerity he had never showed anyone else before, even as his heart bled and shattered. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, sparkling with wonder, before you thanked him with the loveliest of smiles. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

Satoru was certain... you had ruined him, because no one else would ever be able to turn his world with just a smile like you did, even as you broke his heart too into a million pieces.

. . .

Ever since that day, everyone had branded him as a prince in search of scandal—coveting the princess married to Zen’in clan.

What everyone didn’t know was that it went beyond that. His obsession of you went beyond your beauty and charms and wits. Rather, it goes a long way back.

YOU, THE CROWN PRINCESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

As inconceivable as it was, once upon a time, you and Naoya were a truly, happy couple.

Handpicked by the late emperor to become his son’s wife, you couldn’t be more proud. With you being the next empress of the Eastern Empire, your clan once again proved itself that it was always worthy of a seat in the monarchy.

But beyond that, you were elated that it was Naoya that you ended up marrying. Your own childhood friend, who often led you around his palace by hand and filled your days with many joy and laughs.

“One day soon, when we are the emperor and the empress—” younger Naoya was always someone who had big dreams about ruling his nation. “We will create a nation in which no one can do anything as they please! We’ll establish order, and anyone who goes against it will be punished! That way, it’ll encourage fairness!”

Not knowing it yourself, you had given your heart wholly to him. You had agreed to all his dreams and visions. You devoted yourself to them all, even more so after your marriage and coronation, as he promised you an ever after.

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

YOU, THE EMPRESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

“Your role is to give an heir to the throne, Empress.”

Your title had never sounded so heavy to you before now, especially when Naoya was the one saying it.

You sighed, gathering your wits and scattered feelings before levelling your calm gaze on your husband. “I understand that, Your Majesty. But it is not something that I can do on my own.”

This year would mark the fifth year of your marriage to Naoya. You understood that the fact you still weren’t able to be with his child would raise questions from the court, but still, must you be reminded of this fact over and over?

Your husband—no, the emperor—barked a satire laugh.

“Oh, really? As I understand it, being infertile is not something I can help you with.”

That hurt. It was a searing pain, like being branded with a red-hot iron. And it felt as if he had torn through your chest with his fist alone.

“I’m not infertile.” Your eyes gleamed with pure defiance as you lifted your chin, facing him in his audience chamber.

It dawned on you that lately, one of the few ways you could speak to him was by requesting an audience as opposed to your usual midnight talks in your private chambers.

When did it start to change? Or was Naoya this kind of person right from the very beginning and you were just blinded by love back then?

"Oh? And what would you call being childless for five years then?" Naoya sneered at you from his dais, placing one hand on his jaw. "Bad luck? You must be terribly cursed with misfortune then."

You fisted your dress, summoning all your strength to hold back tears. Don't you dare cry. Not in front of him.

It wasn't as if you didn't want to carry his heir. For many women, holding their baby in their arms is a cherished dream, and when they hold a position of power like yours, it becomes not just a desire but a duty.

You tried everything—calling in the best doctors, consuming horrible potions, even consulting with the oracle. And they all said you were perfectly healthy and fine. You were at your wits end too.

The irony. You were celebrated in public for your competence, while privately, you suffered your husband's cold detachment and cruel remarks.

. . .

"Empress, where should we put the welcome gifts?"

You studied the floor plan of the banquet hall for your annual New Year's ball with a thoughtful hum before pointing at the entrance.

"Place it here. We want our guests to know that we are generous, and it's easily accessible since the parlor is the first area they reach after arriving."

You loved planning festivities. It was therapeutic in a way, and it gave you little time to think of anything else.

"Oh, and I want to have a welcome arch and flowers placed at the entrance too. This is the grandest event of the year, second only to the Emperor's birthday... we must display the grandeur that befits such an occasion."

Your head maidservant, Hanabi, placed a hand on her abdomen and nodded with a warm smile. "That's a very clever suggestion, Your Majesty! I'll ensure they arrange everything just as you wish!"

As she scurried away, you watched her with an assessing gaze. Hanabi had been with you throughout the five years of your marriage, always at your side, assisting with day-to-day matters and serving as your confidant. She was a great aide.

And you were observant by nature... so of course you noticed things.

...and if you were correct, then she was most definitely with a child.

The thing is... she is unmarried. You hesitated to jump to conclusions without evidence, yet the timing struck you as more than coincidental—it nagged at you for weeks now, suggesting a connection you hoped did not exist.

Because if they really did... then...

You didn't dare to think, because it would be more than a nightmare. But you weren't able to let this go either, so you did what was necessary.

You planted a note in Hanabi's chamber, and then you waited in the gardens, the chilly midnight air wrapping around you like a shroud.

You had done everything you could. Five years ago, you let go of everything and had decided to spend your life with your first love—Naoya.

Because you truly and devotedly love him. You give your all for him—for your life together.

"Ooh, Your Majesty~! It's so cold out here, why not in our usual—"

Hanabi's voice faltered as soon as she saw your crimson gown, feeling like the world had collapsed on her. And you rigidly turned towards her, feeling more or less the same.

And yet, what you had received from him is the greatest betrayal.

SATORU, THE EMPEROR OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE

He first realized something was clearly wrong with you during the New Year’s ball that you hosted.

Satoru had just been crowned emperor during this time, and though rulers typically sent envoys to such grand celebrations due to concurrent festivities in their own lands, it had been several months since he last saw you. He wants to see you.

A meritless action, but he wanted to, regardless.

But that day, you were a fantastic actress in this stage called banquet hall and nobody was the wiser… but he would know, because you mattered a lot to him.

"Your Majesty, you don't seem well." He approached you with a glass of champagne, affixing a friendly smile. "Is there anything amiss?"

Taken aback, you didn't expect such close proximity that you took a step back. His smile almost faltered, but he kept it up.

"Emperor Satoru—"

"Ah, none of that, no. Address me just as you usually do, hmm?"

A smile finally tugged at your lips. "How is that fair, when you address me so formally?"

Satoru chuckled. "You, my queen, deserve all the finery and grandeur there is. And I will see to it that you do."

That was his nickname for you ever since you ascended the throne. Both of your countries refer you as “empress”, but he loves addressing you as “queen” instead.

There was a shift in your expression, and he thought you looked melancholic. It bothered him, stirring a desire to erase that somber look from you. Because above anything and everything, you had to be happy and smiling.

"You're still a flirt, I see, Satoru," you remarked, throwing him a soft smile. "It won't do you good if you're seen with me most of the time, you know."

No, I’m doing this just for you. He wanted to tell you that, but he sighed instead. "You've got it wrong. When I'm in the company of the most beautiful woman in the lands, what's there to be ashamed of?"

Perhaps hearing that finally melted you a bit as you freely giggled this time, and Satoru was glad that he made you laugh even a little.

"You would think that, huh..." you fondly mumbled. And then your expression crumbled, and he could've sworn something painful flashed in your eyes—

What happened to you? He so desperately wanted to ask, but then he saw that preying gaze on both of you. Zen’in Naoya. Satoru clicked his tongue as he watched him weave through the crowd, his gaze locked ominously on both of you.

“Seems like we don’t have much time, after all,” he began, urgency sharpening his words. “But rest assured, whenever you want to talk to me, just send a little birdie my way and I shall answer.”

“Huh?” you blinked at him questioningly, totally not getting what he meant.

He winked, then took your hand and placed a kiss on it, eliciting murmurs of surprise from the crowd at his bold gesture. “And chin up, my queen. You have nothing to fear, and if it makes you feel better...”

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “To me, a diamond is most beautiful. And you… are one that sparkles above all.”

“Naoya, unhand me this instant!”

You were tired of this shit, of Naoya always manhandling you—of him always having a total control over you.

After seeing how close you got to Satoru, Naoya practically saw red. Still, in the prying eyes of public, he remained unperturbed, but his vice-like grip on your arm was sure to leave bruise as he unkindly led you out of the ballroom.

"Naoya!" you raised your voice this time, even louder than before, uncaring even when the wandering eyes of the servants curiously followed the two of you.

You were not made an empress just to follow him. And with that conviction, you forcibly pulled your arm away from his grip right after he shut the door to the drawing room close, not even wincing at the stinging feeling.

His eyes shone with anger. “You insolent—!”

“No—” You stood your ground, and suddenly you got very irate and burst out, “How dare you, Zen’in Naoya!”

He looked at you with equal surprise and mortification, clearly unprepared for your righteous tirade.

"You have made a mockery of our marriage! You have insulted me and your own throne by carrying on with— with the help! My maid!" you screamed at his face, pure anger coursing through your veins. "How could you!?"

Naoya took in your outburst with eerie silence, a sneer slowly forming on his lips. "You get riled up over that? Have you forgotten emperors are free to take mistresses, especially when the empress isn't capable to bear any heirs?"

A burning arrow shot straight to your heart at his response but you willed yourself not to show it. "Regardless, you could've done better and not put our throne to shame by fucking a servant."

"I've told you time and time again. A woman's duty is to bear children, and since you've proven yourself beyond barren, I did you a favor."

"A favor...?"

"As soon as Hanabi births that child, you can raise him as your own," Naoya frankly stated unabashedly, as if proud with his idea. "Saves you the trouble and I get my heir, a win-win solution, no?"

Raise him as my own...? Saves the trouble? You could've sworn that throughout your entire life, you had never been so insulted before now, right in this moment.

"What I do, I always have my throne in mind. And yet you..." his eyes narrowed into unsatisfied slits. "What are you trying to achieve by whoring yourself to that rake, Gojo Satoru? Are you telling people of the ton that you're having an affair?"

His voice made you want to throw up. The realization that everything you thought you had together might have meant nothing to him at all made you feel sick.

And so, hiding your trembling hands and swallowing you unshed tears, you responded to him with a clipped tone—

"You're most despicable, Naoya. And you are a complete fool if you think even for a second that I'd want to raise your bastard!"

He seemed taken aback by your rejection, but you didn't falter. "And oh, since you want to make use of that lowly maid so much, feel free to take her back and track her down yourself, because I've sent that wench away."

With that, you turned your back on him, striding out with your head held high, even as your life crumbled into dust.

Days after your full-blown argument with Naoya, your situation only worsened. By now, even the palace servants knew you had incurred his wrath, while Hanabi had won his favor by carrying his child—possibly the heir to the throne.

The child she was carrying was no threat to your position. After all, you were the empress. A child of your blood would trample over any bastard.

However, you'd be damned if you shared a bed with him again, and Naoya made it clear that his mistress would be elevated to the rank of royal consort. Given the current trajectory—and history's tendency to repeat itself—emperors often divorced or banished their empresses in favor of their mistresses.

Bah. You could only scoff at your laughable predicament. You came from a prestigious clan and were revered, yet now you were no more than a scorned woman.

Dark thoughts consumed your mind for a time—you couldn't deny that you had considered leaving the palace for self-imposed exile or even ending your life. However, reason always prevailed.

You wouldn't give Naoya what he wanted most: your compliance. And around the time when you resolved to do that, a finely decorated envelope arrived at your study, with no signature whatsoever.

Intrigued, you opened it to find an intricate dried rose bookmark and a folded letter nestled inside.

Greetings to you, my queen. Yeah, it's me. Hope you won't be too surprised. But if you do, know that I always mean well.

Satoru. You weren't expecting this. A small smile tugged at your lips. How long had it been since you last smiled so freely?

I've heard you love reading, hence the bookmark. Fun fact: I made it myself, with Shoko's help. She is sooo bad at explaining though so if the flower is wrinkled... please blame her.

This time, you giggled. He was an emperor, for god's sake. Should someone of his station write so informally like this?

Now... I'm no oracle, but even I know that you must be having bad days. And so, let me entertain you with several tales from my kingdom. So, the other day, my good friend Suguru, the duke—you must've heard of him surely (they said he is the most handsome bachelor in the West but they must be missing an eye for saying so because clearly I'm more!)—just fired a pair of his servants because he caught them in a thirst! He is so uptight! Why can't he let two people in love be!?

Before you knew it, you found yourself chuckling at the lines upon lines of anecdotes Satoru had penned in the letter. The way he wrote, it was as if he was right here, saying all of this to you in real-time. For a while, you were completely absorbed in the world of the Western Empire he described, and all your worries and anxieties seemed to fade away.

Okay, that's it for now. This is just a teaser actually, so if you want to subscribe to more tales of my humble little country, you can always be my empress reply to this letter! :D Look out for a white cat near your windowsill during the hour of snake—he is my trained pet, and put your message in his little backpack. Don't worry, he's cute and doesn't bite!

You were so giddy by the end. His message warmed your heart so much that your eyes grew misty. In the aftermath of Naoya's betrayal, you were certain your life would be filled with much sadness to come.

Yet, your friendship with Satoru might just be the thing that would save you.

No matter how much his friends Duke Geto and Countess Shoko urged him to see reason—that you were no longer available and occupied with your duties as the empress of your own empire—Satoru couldn't help but still cast an eye your way.

You were clearly unhappy, and to him, someone as radiant as you should be happy.

And so, that was why he took his quill and started writing that letter to be sent to your place, along with a rose strapped inside.

He knew that, being the kind person you were, you would most likely respond, but still, the moment his cat arrived back with your reply, he was elated beyond measure.

Of course I knew it right away! I omitted your name because who knows who might catch your cat on the way. Anyway, I hope Mr. Cat will arrive back to you safe and sound. Firstly, thank you for your letter. I must say I'm so happy to receive it :) I haven't had best days so reading it made me smile. And secondly, of course I'll subscribe to your stories of Western Empire. I've been wanting to visit it myself but just haven't gotten the chance to... so if you will continue it, I shall be happy to read :D

If anything he wrote brought you joy, then Satoru was content. He had achieved his goal then.

And it was his own little secret that... by corresponding with you, it allowed him to savor the feeling of having you as his own, if only through words.

Mr. Cat's name is Sugu-chan after Suguru but you can call him whatever you wish. And don't worry, he is strong and can fight if necessary! And don't be too formal with me, my queen. We have known each other forever. Anyway do tell me, what is your favorite color now? Let me guess, is it still that specific shade of crimson?

You name your cat after your best friend...? And you're making it hard for me to be less formal when you always address me as queen! Hmm, I suppose so. I love burgundy. I've even had my study designed with that exact color scheme. It just gives me the confidence I need, you know.

So you still love burgundy... I'll keep that in mind ;) Frankly, any shade of crimson suits you—you're always a vision in them. Back then and especially during your coronation. I love blue, so I think we're a match? :D

Back then...? Hmm, surprisingly yes, red and blue would make a good match... Anyway, I believe you promised me unusual tales from your 'humble little country', so please indulge me!

You've forgotten it already? Around the time we first met, back when I was still known as "the cursed prince"? It holds such importance for me but sadly it seems like it was just a passing moment to you :( Oh, yeah, I haven't forgotten about it! So, this time let me tell you about the time when Earl Nanami got wasted . . .

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Amidst the turmoil of your marriage, exchanging letters with Satoru became your sole respite. His stories regarding his own empire amused you, and sometimes it got you to wonder what it was like to live there.

However, running away from your problems would never solve them. Writing to Satoru may have helped you to cope, but still, your real issue with Naoya wouldn't vanish simply just by ignoring him.

. . .

"Your Majesty..."

For a good one minute, you stood still. Your lady-in-waiting had delivered an earth-shattering news—but admittedly, a possibility you thought was in the cards the moment you went against Naoya.

"His majesty has summoned the high priest to his study," the elderly woman added, close to tears. "But it is very likely that he has submitted the petition for—" her voice faltered when she caught sight of the emptiness in your eyes, unable to continue.

A divorce. Naoya had been considering a divorce. And by now, he was set on it.

"I'm so, so sorry..." she choked out, her voice breaking with sorrow to mourn you, but you remained expressionless, lost in your thoughts.

The last time an empress of Eastern Empire was divorced was more or less a century ago, because she had committed a grave treachery against a royal consort by poisoning her. She was sentenced to death by hanging afterwards.

The irony. You were in similar situation, only that you weren't vengeful enough to resort to poisoning Hanabi. Speaking of her, her baby was due in another four months, and now she was living happily in Naoya's quarters.

"Don't be. I'm perfectly fine."

To consolidate his illegitimate child's position, Naoya used the most effective way. Since you wouldn't listen to him, and Hanabi must be a far delightful companion rather than you, he was more than willing to cast you aside in favor of making her his empress instead.

You thought it would hurt more, and yet what you felt the most right in this moment was white-hot anger. This is unacceptable. It was the greatest insult to you both as a woman and as the empress.

Now, all you could think of was how to uphold your dignity and plot your exit from this palace with your head still held high.

If I can't be the empress here...

And after a sleepless night, you came to a daring solution. And your plan—

...I'll be one somewhere else.

It was an invitation, Satoru thought, almost in disbelief. Or it sounded a lot like one, didn't it?

Heart beating a little faster and blushing, he reread the latest letter you had sent him.

It's only the beginning of summer, and the heat is sweltering... I'm considering treating myself to a trip to the winery village on the border between the east and west. I think it'll be nice if I have a companion...

Winery village was right in the middle of the western and eastern empires, and it was a safe zone. Vineyards were vast and thick, but it wasn't exactly a popular vacation spot. So, it intrigued him why you would want to go there.

Just as he was about to reply to you that it was a very good coincidence that he too wanted to pay a visit to the said village, suddenly—

"Gojo! Gojoooo!" Shoko suddenly burst into his study, startling him.

"Shoko! What the heck?!"

Lady Shoko might be a countess, but she, Satoru, and Suguru all attended the same royal academy. Despite their prestigious titles now, Satoru insisted that in private, both Suguru and Shoko address him just as they did before he ascended the throne.

Still, she was ruder than Suguru in many ways. Satoru gave her a stink eye, but his confusion grew as she seemed to be delivering momentous news.

"Gojo, have you heard that Naoya will divorce Y/N?!"

"Wha?" it felt like a ton of bricks suddenly fell down on his head. And then his friend proceeded to tell him everything she knew.

"It wasn't made official yet, but even the townsfolk have been talking about it. They also said that Naoya have taken a mistress, and that she was formerly the empress' maid."

Satoru listened to her in silence, but the moment he heard that the Zen'in spawn planned to divorce you, anger flared within him. And to add insult to injury, he two-timed you with a servant?

The fucking bastard. He never deserved you at all. How crushed must you have been, enduring all this shit?

"Now, I wouldn't normally encourage you this," Shoko took out the cigarette she stashed in the folds of her dress and sighed. "But since you never let go of that weird fixation on her, should the royal divorce happen..." she shrugged as she took a seat in front of him.

"No matter how laughable it is, you might have a chance."

She is so right. These long years of longing for your affections and dreaming of having even a minute more of your time... there was now chance to turn it to reality.

When you arrived at the winery village for your vacation to breathe in some fresh air, honestly, everything was still in shambles.

You couldn't forget the horrified looks from the court when Naoya announced the divorce. Most were shocked and pleaded with him to reconsider. Some from your circle of ladies even sobbed, openly stating that you didn't deserve this fate.

“Empress... His Majesty shouldn't be that harsh...” Hanabi had said to you afterwards, seemingly concerned for you. “Your legacy here… I’ll make sure to carry them on.”

Sometimes you didn’t know whether Hanabi was pretending to be dumb or indeed she was. One thing you knew though...

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi.” You looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice. “Beware, the Emperor is fickle, be sure to not run out of entertainments.”

You knew you deserved a better fate than being the empress of the Eastern Empire, but seeing those who still cared for you made you solemn. Your loyal maids, those who supported you... and what about organizations you've spent time and energy to?

“My queen, ah, there you are.”

Satoru's voice from behind startled you, interrupting your daydreams. He quickly came beside you and extended his hand, asking for yours.

You offered him your right hand, and he promptly pressed a kiss on it, his bright blue eyes gazing up at you.

It wasn't as if you just noticed how pretty his eyes were, but now that there was no ballroom and scrutinizing eyes around you, you couldn't deny that the way his eyes sparkled as he gazed at you—solely and purely on you—made you breathless.

What... would it be like to have this man... to be your husband instead?

"I missed you. I know we talk daily through letters, but seeing your beauty firsthand is always a sight for sore eyes," he cheekily commented as he let go of your hand. "Now, I get to see you without your pesky husband around, and yeah, you never fail to make my silly heart race."

You chuckled. "You always flatter me..."

He only gave you a toothy smile, and you two strolled the vineyard. For a while, you talked about nothing of importance, like where your ladies-in-waiting were, how things were from his side.

"How do you find being the emperor?"

"It's tiring! It's boring too to look through accounts and oversee those trivial state affairs! And not to mention how many people have been nagging me to take a wife soon!"

"Oh? You haven't been on the lookout already?"

"Nah. No one is good enough, I need someone already familiar with state affairs and such," he said, wrinkling his nose sourly at the thought. But then he cast his eyes on you.

"And frankly, you are my standard," he fixed you a meaningful smile. "No one comes close. If you weren't betrothed to the Zen'in back then, I'd have proposed you in a heartbeat."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your dead heart suddenly came to life. Gojo Satoru had just confessed his affections for you so candidly, and it got you thinking how much easier your life would be with him. He would love you, take care of you...

And beguile you.

His eyes fondly crinkled at you. "You are everything I desire in a woman to be my wife."

He adores you so easily, so fluidly... and yet, Naoya, who has you fully, is throwing you away.

Satoru observed how your face fell once again, just as it had during the New Year's ball. And now he knew, it was because you were facing your impending divorce.

But he wasn't going to tell you that, instead, he would willingly be your confidant and offer you his very being. He was about to crack a joke to lift your spirits, when you blurted—

"What if I said... I want to be your empress?" you kept your pace, not looking at him at all. "What if I said... I'll leave everything and come to you?"

Huh? What…?

That was loaded. Have you entertained the thought too? Satoru had craved the very idea for so long he didn’t even miss a beat—

“Then I’d marry you.” His voice was straight and true, shooting straight to the most tender part of you that Naoya had torn to shreds. “If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

No hesitation. It almost reduced you to tears. You stopped where you stood, willing yourself not to tremble. There is still one person who sees this much value in you.

“Then I’ll be yours,” you breathed out. “I’ll be your empress, Satoru.”

Satoru could've sworn time had stopped. If one moment ago, you looked like you were about to shatter, now you were a vision of the dignified and perfect queen he had always known you were.

“I’ll be your queen— your everything.” You declared, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze not escaping him.

How many years had he dreamed of this moment? How many long nights had he endured, yearning for you, knowing you were beyond his reach?

Finally, finally... Satoru grinned, swearing to all the divine beings out there that he had never known how liberating it was to finally have what he wanted. “That would be my greatest honor.”

He drew you close—you let him—and after one second of taking in your enchanting eyes, he crashed his lips against yours.

His lips started soft and gentle, then became fiery as his tongue met yours. He pulled you closer, one arm around your waist and the other holding the back of your head. You responded eagerly, pressing against him, fingers tracing his neck and feeling the lines of his undercut.

One is finally having the woman he had wanted for so long, and the other was plotting her escape from her misery.

You were using him. He knew it. Yet, he didn't care. Hidden behind bushes and vines, you shared your very first heated kiss, aware that this moment would leave its mark as both the greatest stain and triumph in your lives.

And when he finally pulled away, lips swollen and wet, with a wolfish grin, he promised you once again—

“Give me everything that is yours... and I swear on my life, I will do everything to turn your life into a living dream.”

“Empress, your husband His Majesty the Emperor, has requested a divorce.”

It was how your once pristine life transformed into the scandal of the century inside the courthouse.

"If you accept this petition, then you will no longer be the Empress of Eastern Empire. You will lose all the rights you have as a senior member of the imperial family..."

You donned your finest attire—the intricate crimson and black dress you had designed and commissioned the dressmaker to create. Today, faced with Naoya's divorce decree, it would be the last time you adorned the colors of his empire.

"The ties that bound you together as husband and wife would be severed—"

Good riddance, you thought.

"If this is not what you want, you have the right to—"

"I accept the divorce."

Your voice cut through the heavy solemness of the witnesses and turned them into a mass of disbelief. You disregarded Naoya's smirk and held the priest's gaze. "And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage."

The crowd was in for a second wave of uproar when you boldly stood your ground, and they erupted into clamors once again when Satoru made his grand entrance and took his place beside you.

"You—!" Naoya was so furious that he roared. "This is my empire!"

"And?" Satoru challenged with a dauntless smile. "I'm here to propose, and since she accepts your divorce request, I believe she has no relations with you any longer and is free to marry someone else."

You remained motionless, until your cold fingers met warmth when Satoru linked his hand with yours reassuringly.

"This is treachery! I won't fucking permit it!" Naoya hollered as he faced the high priest, who had a grim face while observing this three-way headlock between the three of you.

"Emperor Naoya, that matter falls into the jurisdiction of the church." The high priest let out a sigh and then turned to you, assessing your calm gaze.

Regardless, Naoya paid him no mind. "I refuse to grant you any permission to remarry! You will be banished to the cold palace until the rest of your pitiful days! Not only do you fail miserably by being barren beyond help, you also dare to whore yourself—" he was now rambling curses at you before everyone in the court, and it pierced you deeply—

Until Satoru tugged you behind him, so that you wouldn't have to see his face any longer.

"High priest!" Satoru's voice blared as he clenched his jaw, irate at the string of profanities directed at you. "Do you still truly believe that the deposed empress can't remarry? When she has suffered through this man's downright betrayal?"

Your head was spinning. You wanted this whole ordeal to be over already.

And thankfully, even the high priest saw reason, that you were undeserving of this debacle. In the end, his words held more weight than anyone else's, even Naoya's.

"I accept Empress Y/N petition to marry Emperor Satoru!"

In the chaos of the courthouse after the high priest granted your wish, Naoya shook his head in disbelief, looking at both of you with intense disdain.

"You've always wanted that wench, haven't you, Gojo?" Naoya cackled with a malice you would never have expected from someone who had been your husband for ten years.

You had tuned out all the noise. This dumpster fire was too much even for you. But then, you felt a strong arm enveloping you, sealing your fate as the match made in this courtroom—

"I have, yeah," Satoru replied with a smug grin. "And now that she is mine... it's just the beginning of your downfall, Zen'in."

Your wedding banquet in Western Empire lasted a week long.

True to his promise, Satoru spared no effort to make you happy. The moment he brought you to his palace, he ordered immediate plans for wedding celebrations. Make it grand, make it unforgettable... he took charge himself.

And on the final, seventh day, as you were about to be formally crowned as the empress of the western lands, you were stunned.

"This is your coronation dress, Empress," your new lady-in-waiting, Shoko, said with pride. "Gojo— I mean, His Majesty, specifically has his late mother's dress altered to suit you."

You promised yourself that you would no longer wear any shades of crimson. As much as you loved the color, it reminded you too much of your homeland and Naoya. No matter how much you despised him now, once upon a time, he was everything you loved and more.

And you thought you couldn't possibly love another color until you saw the extravagant navy dress in your chamber. Made of luxurious satin and adorned with literal diamonds, it shimmered under the light and flowed gracefully with layers of brocade cascading to the floor.

To give you something so valuable... You had expected to enter into a marriage out of necessity, but your new husband had no intention of ceasing his ways to win your heart.

If it's with him, maybe... just maybe...

Today is the day.

Satoru sat on his throne before his court in the grand hall of his audience chamber. His hair was pulled back, and he was dressed in his official attire, robe of silk and a crown made of pure gold.

Next to him, another resplendent crown adorned with jewels and diamonds shimmered in the light—the empress' crown. Your crown.

Today was the day this empire would truly acknowledge his queen. He stole a glance at you on his other side, and his breath was taken away.

With your hair tucked into an elegant updo, you were the very vision of a fairytale queen. You were incredibly stunning, almost otherworldly— shade of blue suited you as much as crimson did, just as he thought.

This day would go down in history. But before that, he would ensure that the news would reach Zen'in Naoya. He would spite him so hard.

"Today marks a momentous occasion. We gather here to celebrate not only my marriage and my new wife's coronation," Satoru glanced at his audience with a smirk, his expression widening as he spotted his best friends Suguru and Shoko. "But also the start of her reign... and as we know it already, her fame and beauty are second to none."

The crowd burst into giggles, clearly aware of his scandal at the Eastern Empire's courthouse. And even you smiled.

Satoru shrugged, playfully rolling his eyes. "Spare me, I'm a newlywed, after all. Anyway..." His gaze shifted to the intricate crown, a relic of his late mother's, and then back to you. "Come."

You knelt before your new husband, bowing your head. The whirlwind journey from the East, your remarriage to Satoru... It had all felt surreal until this moment. Now, the weight of reality settled upon you, almost shaking your very core—

But just as the thought crossed your mind, Satoru placed the crown upon your head. As the jewels settled into place and you rose to face the crowd, his voice cut through the air:

"And here I present to you, your new empress!"

The room erupted in applause, the cheers echoing around you. Everyone congratulated you without fail, and your breath was taken away.

It was a sight beyond belief, as they chanted your name, over and over again—

“ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!”

"I have something for you!"

You wouldn't expect that you would ditch your last night of wedding celebrations along with your husband, and yet here you were, led by the hand by a very giddy Satoru.

"Where are we going?" you questioned him, your pretty dress sweeping the halls in a rush.

He turned to you to send you a wink. "Trust me, sweetheart. You'll love it."

Somehow the way he called you made your heart thump a little faster inside your ribcage. This man is really, truly, your husband now.

He was such a refreshing person, it almost made you let go of everything that molded you into the perfect empress in the east, and be just... you.

"Here." Both of you stopped in front of a grand door, and he ushered you inside. "Come, come~"

A study, you realized as you stepped inside, but then a gasp left your lips—

"How do you find it, hmm?" Satoru put an arm around your waist, proud of how the burgundy walls and mats enveloped the entire space, creating a tranquil sight that perfectly matched your taste.

It was so much like your private study in the Eastern Empire's palace. You might now hate that place, but your private study was filled with the memories of smiles while writing back to Satoru's letters and waiting for his cat to come. And to have this now in your new home...

"You remembered..." you looked up to him, almost tearing up.

"Of course I do," he pressed a kiss on your temple. "I said that so long as you're with me, I'll turn your dream into reality, didn't I?"

This man really treasures you, or at least that was what his actions had proven so far.

"You're everything I've ever wanted and more," Satoru said, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a warm embrace. "You might not realize it, but I've been in love with you since you first visited western lands."

"What?" you turned to him with genuine confusion. "How?"

"That blind boy who you led by the hand... he had no friends," Satoru sighed against you. "The first and only person who asked him if he was lost... is you."

Suddenly, you were thrown back in time to your first encounter with Satoru many years ago. He was known as "cursed" for being born with peculiar eyes, had been blind for a period of his childhood, before he awakened the true extent of those brilliant blue eyes and brought his clan to power by wielding them.

Back then, you thought it was wrong for him to be left alone, so you took him by the hand and escorted him back to the palace, unaware that he was the infamously cursed crown prince.

"You made me feel less lonely. And I thought then... someday, somehow... through some sort of miracle in which I regained my eyesight and could see you... I'd immediately ask for your hand."

But you were named the crown princess of the Eastern Empire. The thought of how crushed Satoru must have felt upon hearing the news pricked at your heart.

You felt soft, you felt loved, and most of all, you felt an overwhelming certainty that with this man by your side, you would finally experience the genuine love that had been missing from your life for so long.

"You have me now," you whispered in response.

Unlike your first kiss in the winery village, this time, you were the one who faced him and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Be it impulse, overwhelming feelings or something else... you didn't care. You just want him.

And wouldn't you know, your new husband... is also a wonderful, dashing lover.

"You're so... fucking beautiful..." Satoru's lips were on yours, claiming them with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, tracing each curves and lines.

You moaned into his mouth, clutching his robes. He captured your wrists with one hand, using the other to tilt your head back so he could leave bruises on your neck in the process, making you moan.

"Keep making that sound, yeah?" Satoru rasped, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. "Keep me going with your voice."

As he gripped your waist, it dawned to him once again that you were here, with him.

Seeing his colors on you ignited desire straight to his cock. His empress was stunning, more so now than ever, more than any woman Satoru had ever seen.

He led you to the bed, his movements urgent yet tender. The air was thick with desire as you lay back, pulling him down with you. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more.

This wasn't your first time, yet you had never been this excited before. From heated kisses until somehow managing to get rid of your underwear and left you in your dress... your body nearly thrashed in response.

"Look at you... An queen of two empires, yet rendered putty in my hands," Satoru wickedly grinned as he slipped a hand under your dress, rubbing his thumb teasingly over your clit. You let out a soft sigh at the prodding. You were getting wetter by each second... and Satoru felt his cock straining against the tight material of his dress pants.

"More..." you pleaded, arching your hips. "More...!"

Any of your wishes would be his command, so he pushed two fingers inside you at once, and you let out an erotic gasp. Satoru was so close to tearing his pants off by seeing how tight you clenched around his digits.

Breathy moans fell from your lips with each harsh brush of his thumb over your clit, his fingers fucking you fast—

"Satoru...!" you shuddered, gripping his shoulders as you became limp and came into his hands in spurts.

"My queen..." he then captured your lips in a brash kiss, and you reciprocated it. He pulled away only to press his forehead against yours in an attempt to calm his raging heart. "No matter what."

His watery, sparkling eyes was mesmerizing to you, and you took one breath before you crashed your lips into his, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

"As pretty as you look in this, I'm going to take it off," Satoru murmured with a meaningful smirk, slowly undoing the laces of your dress. "I want to see you completely naked... just for me."

Soon, you laid bare, and the cold air made your body shiver. Satoru clenched his jaw tightly at the scrumptious sight.

It was almost difficult for him to take in all of you at once—your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, erect nipples, and legs spread wantonly for him. Satoru had been here so many times in his dreams, and to see it becoming reality...

"If back then, you had chosen me instead—" he sounded almost heartbroken, which startled you. "I would have treated you right from the start—"

You looked up to him. "You would..."

"Don't you know how many years... I've been just there— watching you and that bastard? Knowing I can do even more than him?"

"Mhm..."

You rose, tugging him closer, before you unclasped his robe, letting it fall to the floor. "Satoru... right now... I'm yours."

He allowed you to undress him and soon he too was out of his stuffy royal attire. Your eyes wandered on each part of his body you touched. His chiseled body, snow-like skin, and then the hardened bulge that sprung out the moment you undid his pants—

The sight of his cock alone only turned you on even more. You gently gripped the glistening head, running a thumb over the tip before gliding your hand towards the base of his length. With a gentle rhythm, your hand moved from base to tip in a slow, teasing motion... before pecking his head.

"Yeah... you're right." His eyes never left yours, admiring you as if you were the most precious gemstone, before catching you off guard. While you rubbed him, he snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you so that you tumbled on top of him.

You moaned loudly as his cock—big, both in length and width—entered you, his hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart so he can shove himself deeper.

You felt so, so full, as you pulled Satoru to you tightly, groaning into his shoulder. And he started to set the pace, moving against you.

"Ahh," you moaned out shakily, fingers clawing into his back. To him, the sounds you made drew him in like a siren's song, it made him throb inside you. "Ahh—hngh!"

"Feel good?" he asked, voice sultry and deep, as he thrusted into you particularly harder, causing you to stifle a moan. "Let it out—hah—sweetheart... I want to hear you, hmm?"

And you did. You felt hot. Your unabashed, nasty sounds with each thrust drove him to the edge. With every lift of your hips, you squeezed him so tightly it almost made his head spin. His breaths came in short pants too.

"You fit me so damn well," he groaned, holding your hips hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers. "So fine..."

One woman. It took just one woman—you—to unravel him like this.

"Satoru, harder—" You commanded, wrapping your arms around his neck even as you trembled. "N-not enough... harder!"

He actually had to swallow, because you and your pussy felt so damn tantalizing. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He slammed his hips against yours twice—no, thrice the previous speed, and you incoherently squealed. The squelching sound of your hips slamming against each other, and the immense wetness coming out where you two were joined... it was clear: you were addicted.

"Did Naoya ever make you feel as good as I do you now?" he drawled, sinking into you impossibly deeper, squeezing your left mound and flicking your right nipple at the same time. "Did he... ever make you ride him like this?" And then he instantly regretted his words.

Because the moment he said that, you felt cold, reminded of nights in which Zen'in Naoya grabbed you just to forcefully breed you. You winced, and Satoru caught it.

"I..." you shifted your gaze away from him, and he could've sworn that it was sorrow he saw flashing in your pretty eyes. "I-I... don't want to talk about him..."

Feeling remorseful, Satoru reached for the back of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing your lips softly. "I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to—"

"Tonight, I'll make you scream my name so hard you'll forget him," he promised as he pulled away from you, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, give me everything and I'll show you how a man truly loves his woman."

And he followed through. He worshipped you meticulously, treating your body with the reverence one might bestow upon delicate glass. He peppered kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach, lips and tongue trailing down, his relentless thrusts so well-paced and brutal at the same time.

"I'm— close!" You whimpered, and yet still grinding your hips against him. He was watching your every move, every wave of pleasure that was evident on your face— committing it to memory for those moments when he couldn't hold you close.

You gasped—as a mind-blowing orgasm then ripped out of your very being, your hips faltering as you surrendered to ecstasy with a cry of his name, coming all over him. "Satoru... Satoru! Ahhh!"

And Satoru kept his gaze on your face as he too busted inside of you hard, feeling himself filling your womb with his essence, his hands kept your waist steady, memorizing the way your lips part and the way your body went limp into him with satisfaction.

Dear heavens, I love you. The sight of you was nothing but perfection, and with everything he had, he was very sincere when he said—

"You're flawless, sweetheart."

2 MONTHS LATER

"If you give me a son, I'll throne you as the empress right on that very day."

The Eastern Empire's palace was bustling as the royal consort's screams echoed through the halls. The day Naoya had been eagerly awaiting had arrived—his mistress was delivering his heir.

Yet unbeknownst to him, whispers in the dark suggested the royal baby was arriving suspiciously early. Many, still mourning the previous empress who had been dethroned so abruptly, were not exactly thrilled with this turn of events.

"My lady, just a little bit more!" the maid encouraged. Hanabi strained once again as the pain peaked and her body spasmed, letting out the loudest wail as the baby finally slid out of her.

"W-what... is it?" on the brink of passing out, Hanabi asked anyone who might hear her. She had to know, for she was so close to obtaining her throne—

"It's a girl, my lady!" the midwife announced.

What?

Her world crumbled at that very moment. A girl? A girl can't be the heir!

She wanted to sob, to utterly mourn, and right at this moment she was full of fear, because if Naoya knew—!

Like a curse, he suddenly made his presence known in the birthing chamber. His face scrunched in distaste at the scent of blood filling the air. He took one look at Hanabi, tearful and frazzled after the ordeal, then turned to the midwife, who was trembling at his presence.

"A baby girl, Your Majesty."

In that instant, fury flashed through him. He shot everyone in the room a glare before his eyes settled on his consort, full of spite.

"You useless tramp."

Your life with Satoru in Western Empire was wonderful.

He was everything Naoya was not. Satoru adored you, prioritized your well-being and happiness, often humored you, and made your days an endless delight.

And dare you say... you had begun to return his affections as well.

How could you not? Everything he did, he did with you in mind. He eased you into your position so seamlessly, and soon you found your place comfortably at court.

"He is mixing pleasure with his kingly duties," Suguru grumbled, watching his best friend order the gardeners to plant more blue roses simply because you mentioned finding them beautiful earlier. "Empress, you have to keep a tight grip on his leash."

"Well, at least he's happy." Shoko shrugged and nudged you. "Can't you see by now? How much of a loser he is for you?"

You did see him—a man who showed you everything he had. He had given you everything you unknowingly needed.

And you just wished... you could return the same for him. It still made you bitter, knowing you might never be able to give him heirs due to your condition.

. . .

"Sweetheart... what's on your mind, hmm?"

You looked up to him as he pressed a kiss on your cheek, an arm securely around you, sweaty and panting after your steamy session.

With his hair down and messy after you yanked him earlier, your lips curved into a genuine smile. "You look hot like this, you know?"

He clicked his tongue. "Hmm, I am, of course. But no use in changing topics, I know you well enough now."

Your bare body was pressed against his chest, fingertips tracing gentle lines on his skin.

"There's a possibility that... I can't give you any children." You almost felt ashamed saying this to him, unable to look at him in the eye. "I-I... I've failed for many years—"

"Hush," he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his expression firm. "No thinking that, yeah? I don't care."

"But—"

"Children are gifts," he said then, caressing your face tenderly. "It's not up to us to control how it'll take or not. And I married you not because I want heirs or such—I love you, you know?"

Your glassy eyes met his, and you willed yourself not to shed a tear.

He grinned cheekily. "Besides, you've felt it yourself—my sexual potency is undeniable. And I don't believe for a second, that you're what that bastard claimed you to be. I bet he's the one who is impotent—"

"Satoru! You're so obscene—!" you giggled freely and poked his chest.

At that time, you were just relieved that he didn't mind. Though it was still weighing in your mind on some days, you felt a newfound sense of liberation compared to when you were still in the Eastern Empire.

But you were in for another plot twist. Perhaps Satoru is correct, and your doubts are unfounded...

"Ugh..."

Your stomach churned in discomfort, a sickening nausea that seemed to twist your insides and threaten to force its way up. This had happened for days now.

You wanted to find a physician before Satoru was aware of your state. You didn't dare to hope or speculate, because you were tired of it by this point. You just wanted clarity.

Yet, the physician's words left you speechless.

"Your Majesty... it seems that you are with child," he remarked in wonder as he assessed your vein. "Yes, definitely. You are with child."

It was a revelation you hadn't expected. For years, you had been convinced that you were unable to conceive, but now...

You were carrying a new life. Yours and Satoru's.

You felt like bursting with joy as you made your way to his study. Your heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of happiness. Above anything else, you were eager to share this news with him—

...until everything you had known turned on its axis once again.

Right before you went past the ajar door, you saw a glimpse of your husband and his most trusted confidant, overhearing snippets of their conversation:

"Satoru, however you look at it, this is tantamount to declaring war," Suguru sighed, clearly at odds with his perspective. "It's not wise."

"We can finally put an end to them this way," Satoru's tone was steely as he moved a chess piece across the map, positioning it on the border between east and west. "No better time than now."

"The Empress will face the greatest backlash from this. They'll accuse her of being vengeful enough to provoke an attack on her home country—"

"On the contrary, her presence will encourage those still loyal to her to defect. That's why I have her here. We need defectors—"

You let out a choked gasp, backing away from the door in shock. For one good minute, you refused to comprehend what Satoru was implying.

. . .

. . .

Did your new husband... marry you for his own hidden agenda?

[deathbind]

Canonically, the Yikarian Empire is the longest lived on the continent of Zakhara. My loophole for making Meket predate them is that they do not now, nor have they ever, termed themselves an empire. Whether they fit the technical definition of one may itself be disputed and perhaps depends on time period. How to explain . . .

Their primary method of expansion is not conquest. They have had periods of warfare, and they have emerged from their victories with new territories, but they rarely start wars. They have often provoked wars, often through the most subtle of means, but they'd prefer the other party strike the first blow / take the role of "aggressor" so that their response may be "justified". They are only "defending" themselves.

It adds to their reputation that they supposedly never start fights but always finish them. Their prosperity has caught the eye of many a conqueror — and some have succeeded. By provoking wars they're certain they can win, downplaying their readiness, they make the prospect of war undesirable. Their record of victories is impressive. They also make themselves seem nearly harmless, attacking only when "provoked". Think of it this way: perhaps you could slay a dragon and claim its hoard, but why would you take that risk when it's nesting peacefully in its own domain?

Far more often, though, their expansion is even subtler. They "ally" with neighbors. Usually weaker powers, nations on the knife's edge of conquest, peoples with common religious beliefs or common enemies — whatever gets their foot in the door. They come as a friend or maybe the other party comes to them. They aren't domineering or demanding. They don't attack differing beliefs / traditions, instead strongly emphasizing commonalities. It's a slower form of conquest. The longer the alliance goes on, the stronger it becomes, the more reliant the nation grows on Meket, and the more firmly they are brought under the banner. Everything melds together into one whole. It is arguably more dangerous to be their friend than their enemy.

[lakshita07-blog]

Best Practices for Promoting Demand Generation Events on a Budget

In the fast-paced world of B2B marketing, hosting successful demand generation events can have a big influence on your lead generation.

Strategic Pre-Event Planning: Start by carefully arranging your promotion before you take any action. Establish your objectives, audience, and main points of focus. Knowing your goals will help you focus your plan and direct your promotional efforts.

Leverage Email Marketing: Email is still a very effective way to connect with certain B2B audiences. Create email invites that are eye-catching and showcase the benefits of your event. To draw in potential participants, highlight the programs, important speakers, and networking opportunities.

Utilize Social Media Channels: Make the most of the reach of several social media channels to generate interest in your event. Create interesting material, make use of pertinent hashtags, and inspire people in your network to share.

Collaborate with Industry Influencers: Find influential people in your field who can assist promote and enhance your event, and work together with them. They can offer valuable insights, spread the word about your event to their audience, and give your efforts more legitimacy.

Create Engaging Content: Create engaging content about your event and distribute it across a variety of media. Infographics, blog entries, and teaser videos may fall under this category.

Partner with Like-Minded Organizations: Establish partnerships with other groups aiming at comparable demographics. Cross-promotion can increase your reach without adding to your expenses, benefiting both of you.

Implement Referral Programs: Encourage registrants to recommend peers in the business and coworkers. By putting in place an incentive-based referral scheme, you may encourage word-of-mouth advertising and naturally increase the audience for your event.

Optimize Landing Pages for Conversions: Make sure the landing pages for your events are conversion-optimized. Make sure everyone knows about the event's features, advantages, and simple registration procedure. To improve search engine optimization, strategically use the term in the content of your landing page.

Conclusion: It is feasible to host B2B demand generating events on a budget, and with careful planning and execution, it can even prove to be very successful. You may increase the impact and reach of your event without going over budget by using these best practices. Remember that the effective implementation of your promotional techniques is just as important to success as the magnitude of your budget.

[tensai-marketing]

https://tensai.net.in/

[darthkvznblogs]

gracias por poner a El Tigre en tu historia, has visto el Libro de la Vida y Maya y los Tres?? tambien forman parte del mismo universo

De nada! Y si...lo mencioné en las notas abajo del capítulo...

(Transl.)

Q: Thank you for putting El Tigre in your story, have you watched Book of Life and Maya and the Three?? They're part of the same universe

A: You're welcome! And yeah...I mentioned it in the notes below the chapter...

[mmm-asbestos]

Made a height chart for our blorbos

Dapper Neo (@sczawr) Wrong Neo (meeee) Metal and Rosie (@bimboamyrose)

Lore under cut👀

These three are pretty much the same height and proportions, the only difference is that Dapper Neo is without heels (clown shoes) and he doesn't posess the ability to move his eyelids (only visors animations) unlike the other two.

The basic info is that they're from diff dimensions and there's a major timeskip after the events of Sonic Heroes, which went (or didn't at all) differently for each of them.

About them:

🌹 Amy Rose

Semi-retired hero finding her way in the world. She recently started a home baking business.

Amy is indulgent but strong-willed. Determined to befriend evil robots and tame them with her fiery charm.

She manages to demand great respect from the trio, especially Metal. Metal calls her Rosie, but she's Amy to the others.

💙 "Metal" Neo

Reformed Neo struggling to find his own self worth on the side of "good" with the help of his Amy (Rosie).

Metal is reliable but prideful. He's devoted to a fault. Rosie is his whole world.

Generally goes by Metal but forces Sonic to call him Neo.

♣️ "Dapper" Neo

Security bot conflicted between who he is and what he wants to be.

Dapper is as generous as he is covetous. Genuine, quiet. The most social one.

Amy (and Metal) nicknamed him Dapper. Wronger is partial to "Suit Guy" (or simply Neo).

🔪 "Wrong" Neo

Recluse mechanic struggling with the consequences of his freedom.

He's very charismatic but remains isolated. He's a loner, hard to crack.

Also nicknamed by Amy, he is affectionately referred to as Wronger. The others just call him Neo.

[hy6erion]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭! - 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬, 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐚, 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐕𝐢𝐤, 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐌𝐞𝐥

⇢ 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲/𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲(𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲) 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩 (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞), 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞/ 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐦𝐥. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞....໒( ᓀ ‸ ᓂ )७

Sugar Daddy! Jayce who meets you by complete accident. You weren’t looking for a sugar daddy, but Jayce was definitely looking for someone to spoil. Maybe you worked at a café near his office, your customer service smile making his heart stutter every time he came in for his overpriced espresso. Or maybe you were a friend-of-a-friend at some fancy charity gala, out of place in a dress you borrowed just to blend in. Either way, he clocked you instantly—soft, sweet, and so tempting. And when he heard you offhandedly mention needing a little extra cash? Well. That was an opportunity he wasn’t about to pass up.

Sugar Daddy! Jayce who is shameless about his wealth. He won’t outright flash cash in your face, but you’ll know within the first twenty minutes of talking to him that he’s rich-rich. Designer suit? Custom. Car? One of many. The watch on his wrist? Costs more than a year’s rent. He’s not bragging—he just enjoys nice things, and he wants you to enjoy them, too. He loves watching your eyes widen when he hands you a little shopping bag with something pretty inside, murmuring, “Go on, baby, open it.”

Sugar Daddy! Jayce who doesn’t do subtle. He doesn’t just send you money—he wires it directly into your account with zero hesitation. No sneaky Venmo requests, no waiting for you to ask. You’ll wake up to a casual $5,000 deposit with a text that says, “Get yourself something nice, sweetheart.”

Sugar Daddy! Jayce who makes it clear from the start that this is all on your terms. If you just want a platonic arrangement? Fine, he’ll be your generous benefactor, no problem. But if you do want something more? If you want to let him kiss down your throat after a fancy dinner, press you into silk sheets in a penthouse suite, murmur filthy things against your skin while he unzips your dress? That’s even better.

Sugar Daddy! Jayce who is so goddamn weak for you. If you so much as pout at him, he’ll cave. You could say, “Jayce, I saw these earrings—” and he’s already pulling out his card, nodding, “Get them, baby. And the matching necklace.” If you bat your lashes at him and whine about being cold? He’ll drape his expensive coat over your shoulders and hold you close, grumbling, “Gonna have to start keeping you wrapped up in furs, huh?”

Sugar Daddy! Jayce who loves showing you off. You’ll never feel out of place on his arm, even at the most exclusive events. He’ll make sure you have a closet full of luxury, and he lives for the moment you step out in something new, watching his friends’ eyes go wide. “Damn, Jayce, where’d you find her?” And he’ll just smirk, pulling you in close and murmuring in your ear, “They’re all jealous, sweetheart.”

Sugar Daddy! Jayce who gets filthy when he’s had a few drinks. After a night out, he’ll press you against the door before you can even get your shoes off, his lips hot and desperate against your neck. “You look so fuckin’ good in that dress, baby… but I bet you’d look even better out of it.” If you let him? He’ll pull you into his lap, his voice dropping into a needy rasp as he grinds you down against his cock. “C’mon, sweetheart, lemme take care of you. You know I love spoiling my girl.”

Sugar Daddy! Jayce who gets possessive in bed. He’ll never push, never demand, but if you let him? Oh, he’s gripping your thighs, spreading you open, and moaning about how pretty you look taking his cock. He’ll hold your face, make you look at him while he fucks into you, murmuring between ragged breaths, “You like bein’ spoiled, huh? Like knowing you’re mine?”

Sugar Daddy! Jayce who is completely whipped for you. If you ever call him while you’re out shopping, asking if you can get something? His response is always, “Get it, baby. Get two.” You wanna sit in his lap at dinner? He’ll pull you in without a second thought, smirking at how flustered you get when his fingers start idly tracing circles on your thigh. You wanna ride him in the backseat of his car after a long night? “Fuck, sweetheart, you don’t even have to ask.”

Sugar Daddy! Jayce who adores you, no matter what. You could come to him in pajamas, hair messy, no makeup on, and he’d still look at you like you hung the damn moon. He loves how soft you are, how warm, how sweet. And if anyone ever tries to disrespect you? Well. Let’s just say Jayce doesn’t mind throwing money—or a punch—to protect what’s his.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Sugar Daddy! Viktor who wasn’t looking for a sugar baby, but somehow ended up with you anyway. Maybe you were a barista at his favorite café, always slipping him extra sugar packets when he looked tired. Maybe you were a broke student struggling with tuition, and he overheard you venting about how you might have to drop a class. However it happened, he found himself saying something like, “I could help, you know.” At first, you thought he was joking—until he was wiring money into your account without a second thought.

Sugar Daddy! Viktor who acts like it’s completely normal to fund your entire lifestyle. Need rent money? Already transferred. Want a new laptop? He’s sending links to the best models. Thinking about quitting your job because it’s exhausting you? “Then quit, darling. I’ll take care of it.” He makes it sound so logical, as if it only makes sense that he should provide for you.

Sugar Daddy! Viktor who has a soft spot for your little indulgences. You mention wanting a new perfume? It’s on your dresser the next day. You offhandedly say you miss a certain snack from your childhood? He finds a way to get it imported. You could be scrolling online, sighing wistfully at something, and he’ll just smirk, “Do you want it, or are you going to make me guess?”

Sugar Daddy! Viktor who loves spoiling you in ways that feel personal. He’s not flashy like Jayce, but he pays attention. If he notices you’ve been stressed, he’ll book you a spa day. If you have an important event, he’ll arrange for a stylist. And if he sees you shivering even slightly? He’s wrapping his coat around your shoulders before you can protest, murmuring, “There. Better?”

Sugar Daddy! Viktor who is a little condescending about how much you need him. He likes that you rely on him. He enjoys the way you come to him for everything, his voice dripping with amusement whenever he says, “You’re quite helpless without me, aren’t you, darling?” And if you try to deny it? He just smirks and tucks a wad of cash into your pocket. “Then by all means, don’t spend it.”

Sugar Daddy! Viktor who gets off on the power imbalance, just a little. He’s not cruel, but there’s something about knowing you depend on him that makes him shiver. The way you lean into his touch when he strokes your cheek, the way you bite your lip when you ask for something, the way you thank him so sweetly—it all makes him ache with possessive need.

Sugar Daddy! Viktor who turns into a menace when he’s teasing you. He’ll let you sit in his lap, but only if you can behave. He’ll take you shopping but make you ask properly. He loves drawing out your desperation, whether it’s for money, gifts, or even just his touch. “You want something from me, don’t you? Then use your words, sweetheart.”

Sugar Daddy! Viktor who is surprisingly rough when he finally gives in. He spends so much time being controlled, being composed—but when he wants you? That control shatters. He’ll pull you onto his lap and grind you against his thigh, his breath hot against your ear. “Is this what you wanted, hm? My hands on you? My cock inside you?” He’s a mess when he fucks you, panting, “Mine. You’re mine.”

Sugar Daddy! Viktor who makes you say it. He loves hearing you acknowledge your dependence on him, whether it’s a simple, “Thank you, Viktor,” or something far filthier. His favorite? “I belong to you.” Say it while he’s fucking into you, while you’re clinging to him, while he’s got your thighs trembling—and he’ll give you anything you ask for.

Sugar Daddy! Viktor who has no problem reminding you who takes care of you. If you ever try to push his generosity away, he’ll tilt his head, amused. “Oh? You don’t need my money? Interesting. Tell me, how much was that dress you’re wearing? Those shoes? That pretty necklace?” And when you have no answer? He’ll just chuckle and press a kiss to your forehead. “That’s what I thought, my dear.”

Sugar Daddy! Viktor who is possessive, but in a quiet, inescapable way. He’s not loud about it, but you know he doesn’t like sharing. If someone flirts with you, he won’t cause a scene—he’ll just wrap an arm around your waist and murmur, “Having fun, darling? Or should I remind you who really takes care of you?” And if you so much as hesitate? He’s pulling you into his lap the second you get home, his grip firm on your hips. “Mine.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Sugar Mommy! Mel who chose you the moment she saw you. You didn’t find Mel—Mel found you. Maybe you were serving drinks at a high-profile event, your uniform neat but clearly a little worn. Maybe she caught you in the art gallery, staring longingly at a piece you could never afford. Whatever it was, she saw potential. And when she saw you hesitate, checking the price tag on something as small as a cocktail, she made her move.

Sugar Mommy! Mel who is effortlessly smooth about it. There’s no awkward “Hey, do you want a sugar mommy?” conversation. No, Mel makes you want it before you even realize what’s happening. She invites you out for drinks, orders the best wine without glancing at the menu, and when the bill comes? She doesn’t even look at it. Her generosity is so casual, so natural, that by the time she’s slipping a sleek black card into your hand and saying, “Use it whenever you need, darling,” you already know you belong to her.

Sugar Mommy! Mel who doesn’t just spoil you—she elevates you. She doesn’t want to simply throw money at you. No, she wants to transform you. Your wardrobe? Remade. Your living situation? Upgraded. Your confidence? Unshakable. She doesn’t just buy you things—she molds you into someone who turns heads just by walking into a room.

Sugar Mommy! Mel who has exquisite taste and expects you to match it. If she’s taking you to dinner, she’s sending you to a stylist first. If you’re attending an event with her, she’s having something custom-tailored for you. And if you dare show up wearing something less than perfect? She’ll simply smile, brush her fingers along your collar, and murmur, “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

Sugar Mommy! Mel who loves to tease you about your newfound luxury. If you ever hesitate before accepting something, she just tilts her head, amused. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty, sweetheart. What else is all this wealth for, if not to indulge you?” She lives for the moment you finally let go, when you stop questioning whether you deserve it and just accept that you’re hers.

Sugar Mommy! Mel who adores the power imbalance. She doesn’t shove it in your face, but she knows exactly what she’s doing. She loves how small you feel in her world, how much you need her. And when you get overwhelmed by it all? She strokes your cheek, kisses you softly, and murmurs, “Shh, darling. You don’t have to worry about a thing. That’s what I’m here for.”

Sugar Mommy! Mel who absolutely wrecks you in bed. The same careful, refined Mel who speaks in perfect, elegant tones? Gone. In her place is someone who commands you, who takes what she wants while making you beg for it. She’ll have you spread out on silk sheets, one manicured hand between your thighs as she hums, “Tell me, sweet thing… do you think you’ve earned this?”

Sugar Mommy! Mel who has a wicked streak when she’s in the mood to tease. If you so much as think about bratting, she’s laughing softly, shaking her head. “Oh, darling. You do know that acting out only makes me want to punish you, don’t you?” And punishment? It’s slow, drawn-out, deliberate. She’ll have you squirming, begging, unable to think of anything but her voice purring in your ear, “Good girls wait, don’t they?”

Sugar Mommy! Mel who makes you say thank you for everything. She loves hearing it slip from your lips—breathless, needy, desperate. Whether it’s for a new dress, a new car, or the way she’s got her fingers buried inside you, she expects those two little words. “Thank you, Mel.” And if you forget? She just smiles, kisses the corner of your mouth, and whispers, “Try again, sweetheart.”

Sugar Mommy! Mel who never lets you forget that you belong to her. You can flirt, you can tease, but at the end of the day? She owns you. And if anyone tries to overstep? If someone gets too bold, too familiar? She won’t make a scene. She doesn’t need to. She’ll simply pull you into her lap later that night, her fingers tracing your skin, her voice velvet-soft as she murmurs, “You’re mine, darling. Say it for me.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Sugar Daddy! JayVik who didn’t intend to share, but once they saw you, they couldn’t help themselves. At first, Jayce and Viktor had no reason to entertain the idea of a sugar baby. They had each other, they were successful, and money was never an issue. But then you entered their lives—maybe as an intern, maybe as a struggling student, maybe as someone who simply caught Jayce’s eye first. He was the one who started it, offering little gifts, slipping a card into your bag, but Viktor? He was watching. And when he finally spoke up, smirking at Jayce’s obvious infatuation, all he said was, “Are you going to keep her all to yourself, or should I have a taste?”

Sugar Daddy! JayVik who balance each other out perfectly in their spoiling. Jayce is the grand, dramatic one. He wants to take you on vacations, buy you expensive jewelry, show you off. Viktor, on the other hand, is calculated in his generosity. He doesn’t just buy you gifts—he curates them. He watches what you linger on in stores, what you sigh wistfully over, and makes sure it’s waiting for you before you even ask. Together? They create a perfect storm of indulgence.

Sugar Daddy! JayVik who both love watching you get used to luxury. Jayce gets all giddy when you finally stop hesitating before spending their money, while Viktor just smirks knowingly when you start accepting their gifts as a given. “Ah, you’re learning,” he murmurs, slipping a designer bag into your hands. “Took you long enough, darling.”

Sugar Daddy! JayVik who are so different in their possessiveness. Jayce is obvious—wrapping an arm around you in public, grinning as he introduces you as their girl. Viktor, on the other hand, is more subtle. He doesn’t need to declare anything—he simply reminds you in quiet, inescapable ways. A hand at the small of your back, a murmured “Ours, aren’t you?” when someone looks a little too long.

Sugar Daddy! JayVik who both love teasing you, but in very different ways. Jayce is playful, teasing you with gifts, making you ask properly before he spoils you. “You want me to buy it, sweetheart? Gotta hear you say please.”

Viktor is downright mean with his teasing. He’ll withhold just to hear you beg, just to see that little desperate pout. “You can have it, my dear. But only if you prove you deserve it.”

Sugar Daddy! JayVik who have a very interesting dynamic when it comes to sex. Jayce is loud, desperate, needy. He whimpers, begs, gets completely lost in the feeling of you between them. Viktor is quiet, intense, commanding. He doesn’t just fuck you—he studies you, learns exactly what makes you fall apart.

Together? You don’t stand a chance. Jayce is moaning in your ear about how good you feel, how perfect you are, while Viktor is holding your chin, forcing you to look at him as he murmurs, “You can take more, can’t you, darling?”

Sugar Daddy! JayVik who are both insatiable when it comes to you. Jayce can’t keep his hands off you, always pulling you into his lap, always kissing you just a little too deeply in public. Viktor, on the other hand, is more restrained—but that only makes it worse when he finally snaps. When he does decide he wants you? He’s relentless, murmuring filth in your ear while Jayce is already a mess beneath you.

Sugar Daddy! JayVik who both make sure you never forget who you belong to. Jayce does it with his enthusiasm, always touching, always reminding you, “You’re ours, baby. No one else gets to have you.” Viktor does it with his control, holding your chin, tilting your face up so you have to meet his gaze as he murmurs, “Say it for me, sweet thing. Tell us who owns you.” And when you do? When you moan, “You—both of you, I belong to you,”—Jayce groans like he’s about to fall apart, and Viktor just smirks, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Good girl.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Sugar Daddy! JayMel who saw you, exchanged a single glance, and decided. You didn’t stand a chance—not when Mel’s sharp eyes appraised you like something she was considering acquiring, not when Jayce leaned in with that easy, dazzling smile. Maybe you caught Jayce’s attention first—laughing at a bar, struggling to carry too many books at a café, hesitating before ordering the cheapest drink on the menu. But it was Mel who sealed your fate. One perfectly arched brow, one quiet murmur in Jayce’s ear, and suddenly he was approaching you, grinning, as if it was his idea.

Sugar Daddy! JayMel who make it feel effortless. Being spoiled by Jayce and Mel isn’t a negotiation. It isn’t something you ask for. It’s simply something that happens. One moment, you’re living your normal life, and the next? You’re drowning in luxury. A black card slipped into your hand with a casual “Use it for whatever you need, sweetheart.” A boutique owner greeting you by name because Mel already made arrangements. A reservation at the best restaurant in the city without you even realizing they owned it.

Sugar Daddy! JayMel who balance each other’s spoiling in very different ways. Jayce is the type to see you glance at something expensive and buy it immediately. No hesitation. No questions. He loves watching your eyes light up when he surprises you with something ridiculous. Mel, on the other hand, enjoys control. She doesn’t just throw money at you—she curates your life. Every gift is intentional, every change calculated. And she lives for the moment you realize she’s been shaping you into exactly what she wants.

Sugar Daddy! JayMel who absolutely love seeing you get comfortable with being spoiled. Jayce gets giddy when you finally stop hesitating before accepting their money. He’ll tease you about it—“See? Told you it feels good to be taken care of, baby.” Mel, on the other hand, is smug about it. She just hums, brushes a finger under your chin, and murmurs, “That’s a good girl. You’re learning.”

Sugar Daddy! JayMel who are both possessive, but in different ways. Jayce is obvious—arm around your waist, introducing you as “Ours”, glaring at anyone who even thinks about getting too close. Mel? She doesn’t need to be loud about it. She simply owns the room, and by extension, owns you. If someone oversteps? One look from her, one coolly spoken “I don’t believe you were invited to touch what’s mine,” and the poor idiot immediately backs off.

Sugar Daddy! JayMel who love teasing you together. Jayce is playful, laughing as he tugs you into his lap, whispering in your ear, “C’mon, baby, you know you like it when we spoil you.”Mel is cruel with her teasing. She’ll sit back, sipping her wine, watching you squirm under their attention before murmuring, “If you want something, darling, you’ll have to earn it.”

Together? You don’t stand a chance. Jayce is coaxing, tempting, urging you to ask for more, while Mel sits there like a queen, waiting for you to break.

Sugar Daddy! JayMel who are so different in bed, but both leave you ruined. Jayce is needy. He whines, groans, begs when Mel lets him have you, pressing desperate kisses against your skin, moaning about how good you feel. Mel is controlled. She studies you, learns exactly how to undo you, and then takes her time doing it. “I wonder,” she murmurs, trailing fingers down your stomach, “how long can we keep you like this?”

Together? They wreck you. Jayce is panting in your ear, telling you how perfect you are, how good you feel, while Mel is watching, smirking, murmuring, “Such a pretty mess, aren’t you?”

Sugar Daddy! JayMel who make sure you never forget who you belong to. Jayce says it, constantly, grinning against your skin, whispering, “Ours, baby. All ours.” Mel reminds you without words—a gentle grip on your jaw, a look that commands obedience, a murmured, “Say it for me.” And when you do—when you moan, “Yours, I’m yours”, Jayce groans like he’s about to fall apart, and Mel just smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Good girl.”

[r0semaryt3a]

Loved your dating hc's!!! They all felt really convincing and in character 💕💕 How do you think the pt (preferably chrollo, uvo, phinks and feitan if thats too many) sleep next to u?? are they cuddlers, kickers, white noise users, midnight bathroom breakers, snorers or whatever else?

Ahhh glad to hear it!! I’ve only really wrote a lot about Chrollo so I was worried the others were OOC-

I’ve only really been thinking of writing for Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks, Shalnark, Machi and Paku but given as you asked for Uvo I’ll add another onto that list! (Small spoiler warning: I love the troupe, but they’re all messy sleepers and I won’t be convinced otherwise!)

Chrollo

He definitely has a night mask, incense and all that to help him doze off. Chrollo is a chronic suffer of predormitional insomnia: his mind runs a million a minute, man is NOT used to sleeping a healthy 8hrs.

You can guarantee if Chrollo falls asleep before you (a very rare event) you’ll find him stiff as a log. He falls asleep in whatever position he’s in and will stay there until he wakes up. Honestly, it’s a wonder he isn’t ridden with all sorts of issues (get him a chiropractor one day.)

On the other 364 days a year when he falls asleep after you, well aren’t you just the perfect little teddy bear! His arms are always wrapped around you tightly.

If you happen to be a light sleeper? You’ll definitely wake up in the middle of the night to his face buried into the crook of your neck; fingers tapping away at your abdomen as his breathing settles, the smell of lavender drowning out any other senses. So definitely a cuddler. (I will die on this hill)

Sometimes he might even pepper your neck with kisses if he notices you’re awake.

If you’re a heavier sleeper? You better get used to waking up in the morning under a vice like grip, a mat of black hair brushing against your cheek and -whether he’s awake or not- you’re not getting out of it

Big spooner, you could be twice the height of him and he’d still demand it.

Not much of a snorer, maybe the few light hitches here and there but overall he’s sound asleep.

Most nights when Chrollo can’t sleep, he’ll sit up with a book in one hand and his other arm wrapped around your sleeping form. Sometimes he’ll doze off and sometimes he’ll only be brought away from his book by your stirring.

On particularly bad nights, where his insomnia truly flairs up, you’ll have to listen to a plethora of podcasts or ��soothing sounds” for him to actually sleep. And yes, you’ll have to listen to them. There’s something innately intimate about having you indulge him in his interests: makes it far easier to sleep.

Feitan

You cannot tell if this man is awake or asleep 9/10.

“You sleep. I watch.” Kind of deal, he has many things to preoccupy himself with: like watching you! (In a: ‘someone takes even one step in this general direction, you’ll have a lullaby of screaming to doze off to’ kind of way)

It’s not that he can’t sleep, it’s that he doesn’t want to. Feitan sees sleep as a waste of time, it bleeds days into days and he could be spending that time well, instead of sleeping.

Everytime he wakes up he mentally kicks himself for having made such a waste of time

That’s where you come in! Hope you’re willing to have a human sized cat latched onto you every single night! Big spoon, little spoon, doesn’t matter to him: you’ll wind up with him clinging onto you for dear life regardless.

Despite this fact however, you’ll never know the plethora of times he wakes up in the middle of the night, painstakingly, detaches himself from you and paces around the room feverishly. Muttering about who knows what, head flicking to every angle at even the minutest of sounds. Feitan doesn’t like not being alert: loathes it, so this is his way to regulate the nerves that rest often brings.

Feitan is a very light sleeper, any slight movement may set him off and cause him to completely switch back on (sleep maintenance insomnia hits him hard).

He doesn’t strike me as a snorer but definitely isn’t quiet, sounds like a Guinea pig sometimes. A total teeth chatterer. Seriously, you’ll wake up and hear a light ‘Tch Tch Tch’ from wherever the hell he’s grabbing onto you tonight.

Will not ever wake up in the same position he falls asleep in (not that you’ll ever know that fact, he’s always looking over you long before you’re awake.)

Trust me: you’ll know if Feitan has a bad dream. His claws (yes claws) will be digging into you, his hold on you tightening with a particularly sharp ‘hiss’ of his teeth.

Likelihood is: his sleeping patterns will leave more marks on you than any other activities ever will. But, don’t worry! It shows he cares (I think?).

Phinks

Kicker, oh he is a real kicker.

You’ll wind up waking up off the bed more times than you will on it.

On and off cuddler, there’s very few times that you’ll fall asleep cuddling but by god is it a wild guess as to whether you’ll wake up doing so.

Phinks will fall asleep with his back towards you, teetering off the edge of the bed. And, In the matter of minutes can have one leg half way across the bed, the other swung over the edge, left hand across his face, right on his chest, mouth slack and whole body at a 45* angle.

Other times, you’ll find a knee digging into your back as he’s (very awkwardly) cuddling you from behind.

Surprising the masses (not): he snores. Has a whole box of nose strips to stop this.

Despite all of these, interesting, idiosyncrasies. The few times you fall asleep cuddling: he’s an entirely different sleeper. It’s like he takes a page out of Chrollo’s book and doesn’t move an inch (aside from rolling, he’s a total roller).

The snoring won’t stop though.

Doesn’t need anything to help him sleep, his head hits the pillow and he’s out like a light. Real heavy sleeper as well, you could roll him off the bed with an almighty thud and he’d still be sound sleep. It’s actually fairly endearing.

Will sleep for 6 hours, wake up for 1, roll around for a bit, settle down and then sleep for another 2.

Best pray you’re a heavy sleeper: that’s all the advice I can give you.

Honestly? It’s like sleeping next to a bear, vaguely adorable as much as it has you fearing for you life (and place on the bed).

Uvogin

If Phinks is like sleeping next to a bear, Uvo is a bear hug.

You’ll find your place settled neatly against his chest, as if he’s one of those comically large backpacks (like Johnny’s from Hotel Transylvania). Don’t worry about anything, truly, you’ll be snug as a bug in a hug.

Surprisingly, not a snorer (when sober at least). Often needs noises to fall asleep to though. If there’s not calamity afoot then Uvo tends to get angsty; you may have to deal with the occasional outburst.

So, you often have loud games or shows blaring in the background as he rests his chin on your head. Uvo doesn’t fall asleep easily, meaning there’s very few times that you can turn the noise off before you head to sleep yourself. You best get used to sleeping to the volume of a rock concert! (with his constant screeching he blew his own ear drums)

Invest in earbuds of some kind, it’ll help the both of you.

The LOUDEST snorer when drunk. I mean LOUDEST. Cotton buds line your bathroom cupboards for whenever he drinks, you’ll have to pick out bits of cotton on particularly bad nights.

Absolute hoarder. Whether it be you, a pillow, the duvet, he’ll have it and he isn’t letting it go. It’s honestly quite comforting, his presence isn’t exactly small, so with this hoarding comes a sense of security.

He’s surprisingly gentle as well, it doesn’t feel infantilising, more like you’re something from a heist that he doesn’t want to break.

Can fall asleep anywhere there’s noise. It’s a skill, you’ll find him contorted in a corner just so long as the TV’s humming in the background. Don’t think of moving him, you won’t.

Probably takes a good few trips to the loo during the night. Which, unfortunately for you, given your nightly position: leads to you being woken up every time he does.

Shalnark

Not a fan of cuddles, like at all. Shalnark is quite the squisher when you’re both up and about or even just lounging on the covers, but when it comes to sleeping? He’ll do it, sure, but he won’t be too thrilled most nights. There’s the odd time that he’ll be uncharacteristically for the idea, pulling you close and running off a mile a minute! He doesn’t tend to actually sleep those nights, more ramble on like you’re at some two person sleepover; the sentiment’s there nonetheless.

Despite this fact, he’s very specific with having at least something pressed up against his back -little spooner- and will get agitated if this requirement isn’t met.

Podcasts, lots of podcasts. Shalnark has about ten to twenty playlists that he’ll be sat scrolling through: trying to find the one he wants to sleep to. You’ll never be privy to these of course, he tends to keep a pair of headphones shoved in some drawer.

Oftentimes, before even attempting to sleep, he’ll be scrolling through some forum or busy doing: something. Though, for some reason you don’t remember any of his chronic scrolling…

Bathroom breaker, it’s nothing annoying but you’ll never not notice the shift in weight, as he swings his legs off the bed and heads to the bathroom. He’s always careful not to make too much noise, which winds up causing more in the process.

Has a small assortment of glasses of water that will accumulate through the week, all filled to different volumes. He swears he’ll drink them! He never does. It just ticks that little box of ‘just incase’ and he can’t sleep without it. Same with most other amenities.

Late sleeper, this man will never be up before you. That may be attributed to the fact he never falls asleep before you, but who’s to say!

Machi

The fact you don’t have single beds is both a gift to thank her for and a curse. Machi is a sleep tosser; she tosses a lot.

You tend to sleep on opposite ends of the bed. This is both in part to her overall distaste of sleeping together and the kicking. Oh boy, the kicking.

You know how the immune system can sometimes misinterpret things as threats, causing autoimmune reactions? That Machi when asleep. It’s like a subconscious instinct, a defence mechanism is you will; it’s certainly a good one! It’s just, not always needed. Especially not when you wake up at 4:34am after a particularly sharp jab at your side.

Though, some nights she’s stiff as a board! Not one movement or peep. As if death herself had stole Machi away.

She’s not a particularly picky sleeper, Machi can rest to almost anything. However, there is one thing that seems to expedite the process. Fire - whether the simple crackling singing off in the distance, or the chocking scent of smoke pervading the air. It seems to calm Machi, there’s no foreseeable reason for it. She just, likes fire.

L i g h t sleeper, you can’t count the amount of times she’s jolted awake, swearing she heard something. Windows, doors and anything else that might throw the room into disarray or stir up noise are a must close.

Sleep mutterer. It’s a rare occurrence, but Machi will sometimes have whole conversations with the air. You’re usually both asleep when these conversations take place (there was once that you overheard one to its completion. You’ll never tell her of course).

Pakunoda

Incense galore.

Seriously it’s everywhere.

Pakunoda needs some form of soft scent to lull her to sleep. This often comes in the form of floral scents, but can branch off into other soothing smells. Her particular favourites include cedar and amber.

You wouldn’t describe what you and Pakunoda do as cuddling, per se. She treats you more like a support pillow than anything else. Arms wrapped around you tightly and chin resting upon your head.

Neither of you will be able to move an inch throughout the night. Pakunoda has a very specific pre sleep schedule that she’ll run through every night (including final bathroom breaks, cleaning and small talk) and after that, it’s lights out. It doesn’t matter if you wake up and need something: she’s out cold. You might be able to escape, if you can pry yourself out. But just know: getting back in the same position will prove twice as difficult.

Not a snorer, hell, you can hardly hear her breathing most nights. If it weren’t for the subtle rise and fall of her chest against your back, you’d question if she even was.

Up long before you are, usually has one half of the bed already made (haphazardly as not to disturb you.)

I had a lot of fun doing this one; might return to it for further Troupe members at a later date, so cheers for the ask Anon! (Little irrelevant thing I just want to mention for future reference: if any PT ask includes Hisoka or Illumi please specify as such.)

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 2/?)

Do you know what the main problem with addiction is? It's that it always demands more. And unfortunately for you, Silco was an addicted man.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 5,2K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, orgasm edging, overstimulation, you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut), Silco being the little control freak that he is. Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1

Okay, I didn't expect the previous chapter to be so successful, so thank you to everyone who read it. Just a few warnings: Silco's actions can be quite controversial (you'll understand at the end), he's an antagonistic character and we have to recognize that he's not a saint. If you came here expecting something like "love at first sight", I'm sorry to tell you that there's going to be a long road to that. Remember, there's a fine line between love and obsession.

The month had flown by too quickly, and you barely noticed Silco's absence from the brothel. Since that night, he seemed to have vanished, and the days resumed their usual rhythm. With the generous bonus he had left, you managed to cut back on your workload, bringing a sliver of relief to your otherwise exhausting routine. Today was one of those calmer days. Your last session hadn't been physical; your regular client, Kate, a young woman with stunning green eyes, just wanted to talk.

You spent the time discussing her recent achievements. She had been clean from shimmer for three months and, with visible excitement, shared her plans to become a designer. She had even landed an internship at a boutique in Piltover. Despite being a paying client, your relationship with her felt closer to a friendship. You genuinely cared about her progress and rooted for her, even though you knew the harsh world of Piltover could extinguish the dreams of Zaunites as easily as a gust of wind snuffing out a candle.

The brothel had this misunderstood duality. It wasn't just a place of pleasure and debauchery, as many thought, but also a refuge for the lonely, even if those moments were as rare as fresh air in Zaun.

After the session, you sat at the vanity in the dressing room, touching up your makeup. It was a moment of pause, preparing to finally leave for the night. That's when hurried, hesitant footsteps reached your ears. Through the mirror, you saw Babette enter, her yordle face pale as if she'd seen a ghost.

"What's wrong, Babette?" you asked, frowning.

"He's back," she said in a hurried whisper, and you froze. There was no need to specify who. His name hung like a curse that no one dared to utter. "And he asked for you... in the same room."

A sigh escaped your lips as you nodded, trying to mask the storm brewing inside you. Your body moved automatically, brushing past a Babette who looked almost regretful on your behalf.

The conflicting sensations within you were hard to define—a mix of nerves and something akin to excitement. Part of you was eager to see him again, while another feared what this meeting might bring. It was a wave that swung between the warmth of reunion and the chill of apprehension. It was impossible to predict Silco's intentions with you.

Yet, despite the uncertainty, a part of you relished the idea of facing him again.

The curtains parted just as they had during your first meeting, and you stepped into the room with hesitant steps—but firm enough to mask the storm raging within you. There he was, Silco, seated on the sofa like he owned the world—or at least your little corner of chaos. This time, a cigar rested between his fingers, its smoke spiraling lazily toward the ceiling. A bottle of amber liquor and two glasses were set before him on the table.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you regarded him, trying to keep your expression impassive. "Miss me?" The provocation slipped out in an almost sweet tone, but the mockery woven into the edges of your words was there for anyone sharp enough to catch. And, of course, he did.

His eyes lifted to meet yours, and the smile that formed on his lips was... unsettling. A slow, predatory smile that made your entire body tense, unsure whether to prepare for a fight or flight. But running from Silco was never really an option, was it?

"Miss you?" he repeated, his voice low, almost a dangerous purr, as he brought the cigar to his lips and took a long drag. The smoke escaped in a deliberate exhale as he leaned back even further into the sofa. "I've been rather busy, dove. Running a city isn't exactly a part-time job."

His voice carried an intensity that seemed to cut through your skin and lodge itself directly in your nerves. His eyes were a weapon all their own, assessing you with clinical precision as though he could decode every emotion you tried to hide. Frustration? Undoubtedly. Curiosity? Perhaps. And something else... something you refused to name but which made your stomach churn and your breath quicken.

"Ah, of course... I forgot you rule Zaun. I thought it was just a hobby of yours." The words left your mouth dripping with sarcasm, a smirk tugging at your lips. You knew exactly how to provoke him, even if it meant walking a tightrope with Silco.

But he laughed. Not a short or biting laugh, but a rich, full chuckle that echoed through the cramped walls of the room. His reaction was almost disconcerting, as if he were genuinely amused by your defiance.

"I prefer to think of it as a calling. Someone has to keep these streets in line, after all," Silco retorted, bringing the cigar back to his lips and taking a deep drag. "Drink with me." He gestured casually toward the empty glass beside his with a flick of his hand, as if this were the most normal thing in the world—as if he hadn't disappeared for an entire month and was now acting as though nothing had happened.

You blinked once, twice, frowning at his offer. Surprised was an understatement. Even so, your feet carried you to the sofa, where you sat down beside Silco. Your gaze drifted to the glass placed in front of you, but you made no move to pick it up.

"Drink something from you? I thought I'd made it clear I'm not naive." Your voice was sharp, cutting, and you made no effort to hide what you thought. The accusation lingered in the air, but Silco seemed unfazed. On the contrary, the smile on his lips deepened, as though your suspicion was yet another point in his favor.

"Relax, dove." He set the cigar in the ashtray and leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on yours. "I may be many things, but I'm not the type to drug my... companions. I prefer them fully aware of what's happening."

Before you could respond, you felt his hand rest on your thigh, his fingers drawing lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt. The touch was too light to be casual but confident enough to show he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Besides," he continued, leaning in a little closer, "I don't need tricks. You came to me willingly last time, remember? And I'm certain you'll do the same again."

You held your breath for a moment—not out of fear but from the tension building in the air. It had been mere minutes, and already you were spiraling into this dangerous, sexual dance. When he reached for the bottle and poured two glasses, the sound of the amber liquid filling the glass seemed to fill the charged space between you. He slid one of the glasses in your direction, his fingers brushing against yours briefly, and that fleeting touch was like a surge of heat, reigniting memories you'd rather not dwell on now.

The cold glass against your fingers was solid, tangible, but the same couldn't be said for Silco's intentions. Swirling the liquid in the glass, you watched its viscosity under the light, searching for any sign of hidden betrayal. You brought the glass to your nose, inhaling deeply. Nothing unusual. No suspicious scent. Just the strong, familiar aroma of an expensive drink.

"Now, don't be rude. It's a rare vintage, and I insist," he said, his voice dropping a few tones, more of a command than an invitation. "Or are you afraid you can't handle me after a drink?"

He raised his own glass to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours, taking a long sip and savoring the warmth the liquor seemed to bring. He was testing you, and you knew it.

"Oh... I can handle more than you think." You let the double meaning linger in the air, noting how quickly Silco caught on from the faint curl at the corner of his mouth. Then, your gaze shifted back to the drink in your hands.

A sigh escaped internally. Damn it. Against all your instincts, you decided to trust him—at least this once. Bringing the glass to your lips, you took a small sip.

The flavor was unexpected, complex. First, a gentle warmth spread across your tongue and slid down your throat, followed by a hint of sweetness that balanced the burn. You licked your lips, savoring the woody notes mingling with a subtle touch of caramel. It was... different. Something you'd never tasted before.

You almost let out a surprised sigh but managed to hold it back. However, you knew your expression had betrayed you. Worse still, you were certain Silco had noticed. His sharp gaze seemed to miss nothing, and he'd been watching you the entire time. Quickly recovering, you masked your face with indifference, though the effort felt pointless. Pretending nothing affected you had always been one of your sharpest weapons for surviving life in Zaun, but it seemed to fail irritatingly often when it came to him.

"So, tell me..." Silco resumed the conversation, his tone adopting a casual air, as if you were merely chatting. "What have you been up to while I've been away? I hope you haven't been entertaining any other clients in my absence."

"Well," you began, leaning back on the sofa, mimicking his casual tone while swirling the glass in your fingers, watching the liquid sway with the motion. "As far as I know, we're not exclusive."

You let your words hang in the air for a moment before taking another sip of your drink. This time, you kept your eyes fixed on the glass, pretending Silco's presence was just a shadow at the edge of your awareness. "So yes, I've been with other clients."

When you finally lifted your gaze, you met his eyes. They glimmered with something between amusement and danger, and the smile you offered Silco was anything but innocent. You knew you were playing with fire by provoking him so openly without any idea how he might react, but as the damned gambler you were, you could never resist a risky game—even if it meant losing your winning hand.

"Why?" you asked, your voice dripping with audacity as you calmly placed your now-empty glass on the table. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? No, I wouldn't say that." He paused, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his drink. "More like... protective. You see, dove, once I set my sights on something, I have a hard time sharing."

He set his glass down on the table with a faint but deliberate thud of glass against wood. You had pressed his buttons, that much was clear, but he didn't seem annoyed by your bratty attitude.

Silco settled back into the sofa, mirroring your posture, but with an air of authority that seemed to dominate the room. He leaned back slightly, his legs spreading just enough to make a point, the motion causing his coat to fall open. The glimpse of what looked like a holster at his hip seemed accidental—perhaps he didn't even remember carrying it. It was as natural to him as breathing.

He turned to you, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your face so your eyes would meet his. "But I'm a reasonable man," he continued, his tone soft, almost comforting, yet carrying an intensity that made your skin prickle. "I understand the nature of our... arrangement. You're a courtesan, and I'm merely a client. Nothing more, nothing less."

His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the touch as light as a feather, teasing. "Which is why I think it's time we renegotiate the terms, don't you?" His voice dropped a few tones lower. "I'm willing to pay for your exclusive services."

You couldn't deny the tension rippling through your body as Silco leaned in further, narrowing the space between you until his presence felt like the only thing that existed in your world. His touch on your chin was firm but not rough, a silent reminder of the absolute control he maintained over himself—and, in some ways, over you.

You allowed him to guide your face upward, a silent concession that you were willing to play along—at least within the rules that suited you.

His eyes were both an invitation and a threat, a contrast that should have been intimidating. But, to your surprise, you felt something else entirely.

It wasn't fear.

It was pride.

There was an unexpected, almost visceral pride within you, knowing that he wanted you—and made no effort to hide it. It was both unsettling and... perversely satisfying.

When Silco moved again toward you, the motion caused his coat to fall open further, fully revealing the holster strapped to his hip. The metallic gleam of the pistol's barrel caught the dim light, and your eyes lingered on it for a moment. The sight evoked a disconcerting mix of emotions: fear and excitement, battling for dominance within you.

You knew the gun wasn't there merely for protection. It was a silent statement, a symbol of power—and also of control. Silco didn't make empty threats, and the presence of that weapon made it abundantly clear. So classic, so predictable, you thought, though you couldn't deny there was something undeniably alluring about the image: danger so blatant yet so meticulously restrained.

That contrast was almost suffocating. The implicit threat of the weapon combined with the soft, almost intimate tone of his voice stirred something deep within you. It was a brutal reminder of the risks of being this close to him, but also irrefutable proof of the kind of power he wielded—not just physical but psychological.

This is not good, you told yourself, suppressing a shiver that could have been apprehension—or excitement. You knew how dangerous it would be to let Silco see you as his. The words you had spoken the last time you met applied to him perfectly, and to your misfortune, Silco was possessive by nature, his ambition only amplifying that trait.

But it was too late to turn back. You had already captured his attention once, and here he was again, returning to your arms like an addict seeking his next fix. And it was clear he wouldn't stop until he had you entirely.

"This negotiation..." you began, your voice lower, tinged with something that could have been scorn or desire, even you couldn't tell. "Isn't open."

The silence that followed was heavy, every word hanging in the air like a scale about to tip. There was refusal in your voice, but despite your efforts, there was also a trace of something else... something that could easily be mistaken for lust. And his gaze caught every nuance of it.

Slowly, your eyes drifted from his to his lips, but not before letting him see the small detour they took back to the pistol. As though you were weighing your options, calculating the risks, even though you knew all of them ended with him.

It was like walking a tightrope over an abyss, and both ends led directly to Silco. Two different fates, equally perilous.

"But," you continued, and your voice was almost a whisper now, deliberately laden with heat. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but the words had already taken shape. "You can try to convince me." It was a dangerous strategy, and Silco was toxic in every sense. But just like an addict depended on their drug, perhaps you could turn that dependence into an advantage for yourself.

Silco's eyes darkened, a fierce hunger burning within them as your defiant words left your lips. A low growl reverberated in his chest, heavy with intensity. He noticed the way your gaze roamed over him, like a flame consuming everything in its path. He also noticed—with dangerous satisfaction—the subtle quickening of your pulse, visible in the delicate line of your neck.

You were playing with fire, and Silco was more than willing to let you burn.

Before you could react, he moved with the swiftness of a serpent, pinning you against the couch. In one fluid motion, he seized control, trapping you beneath the weight of his body. His hands captured your wrists with firm precision, raising them above your head as he positioned himself between your thighs.

His hips pressed against yours, a slow and deliberate motion laden with intent. Your body acted before your mind could comprehend, arching to meet the contact.

"Oh, dove..." he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word caressing your skin like silk. His lips hovered near your throat, and you felt the warmth of his breath against the exposed skin. "I intend to convince you, and I think you'll find I'm quite... persuasive."

His lips found the curve of your neck, skimming over your skin with a dangerous blend of gentleness and possessiveness. When his teeth grazed your flesh, they didn't break the surface, but the implicit promise in every touch made your heart race. You knew he could, and you also knew you wouldn't fight him.

The control he exerted over you was intoxicating, but it wasn't just physical. There was something about the way he read you, how every sigh, every tremor of your body seemed to fuel him.

When his fingers released your wrists, you didn't move your hands from where he had placed them, as if the freedom he had given you was an illusion. Instead, you closed your eyes, feeling his hands glide down your body, his fingers tracing an almost lazy path that ignited every nerve in your skin.

His fingers reached the curve of your waist, pausing just long enough to apply a slight squeeze—a possessive touch that sent a shiver down your spine. He followed the contour of your hips, his movements as subtle as they were provocative. Then, with a deliberate motion, he tugged the hem of your skirt upward, revealing your skin inch by inch, as if each bit was a gift to be uncovered. The air grew heavier, each second stretching into eternity.

"You have no idea what you make me feel," he murmured, his voice a mix of confession and temptation, perhaps more to himself than to you. "The things I want to do to you..."

His breathing grew uneven, heavier, and before you realized it, your thighs tightened around his hips, as if to hold him there, in that exact place where the world seemed to have stopped.

"Then do them," you murmured, your voice hoarse, barely a whisper. This moment was his. And somehow, it didn't feel wrong, even though part of you knew you might regret it later.

But right now, in this instant, regret was the furthest thing from your mind.

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━

"Careful what you wish for, dove..."

Silco's eyes darkened with lust as he watched her writhe beneath him, her body arching into his touch as if she were starving for it. He could feel the heat of her core pressing against his cock, even through the layers of clothing that separated them, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to rip them off and bury himself inside her right then and there. To feel that warm feeling that had been trapped in his mind for that damn month of being away from her. But he held himself back, it wasn't about him this time, as he would have other opportunities. He wanted to savor every moment of her surrender, to engrave the memory of it in his mind for years to come.

Slowly, teasingly, he trailed his lips down the column of her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her skin before sucking on her pulse point, leaving a mark. Relishing the way she gasped and writhed beneath him, her hands finally moved to tangle in his hair.

He leaned back, standing erect with his gaze fixed on that which he now coveted. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs, exposing her to his hungry gaze. This was something he had wanted to do since their first meeting.

Silco settled between her thighs, his breath ghosting over her slick folds. He looked up at her through his lashes, his eyes glittering with dark promise. "Look at you, dove. So wet for me already... Such a needy little thing." he murmured before dipping his head and pressing a kiss to her clit.

He started slowly, his tongue lapping at her slit, savoring the taste of her arousal. He traced the seam of her lips, teasing her entrance before flicking his tongue over her clit, again and again, until she was writhing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair.

He slid a finger inside her, then two, pumping them in and out of her tight heat, at first slowly. He curled them just so, searching for that special spot that would make her see stars. Silco felt her inner walls contract and vibrate around his fingers. He could tell she was getting close to her peak. Leaning down, he sealed his lips around her throbbing clit and sucked hard, flicking the sensitive nub quickly with the tip of his tongue.

At the same time, he pumped his fingers faster, rubbing mercilessly against that specific spot. Her thighs trembled and tensed on either side of his head as he took her right to the edge... then pulled back a little, wanting to prolong her torment a little longer before finally pushing her over the edge of blissful oblivion. He heard her whimper his name, her voice sounding tearful and frustrated. Then her little fingers tried to pull his face back into place between her thighs: "Easy, dove." He let his fingertip slide over her clit, circular motions that drove her to the edge, but weren't enough to give her what she wanted. "Silco..." her voice escaped in a hoarse moan, filled with a mixture of need and desperation. Sounding like a melody for Silco. "Say 'please' and I might let you cum." Silco's voice left no room for reply and this only made her even more frustrated. Her back arched and she tried again to pull Silco towards her. Her attempts failed. Silco then sped up the movement of her finger, noticing how easy it was to bring her to the edge again... and just as easy to slow down.

The second denied orgasm drew a reaction from her. "Please! Fuck.. I beg you... please!

He smirked as she begged so sweetly, the word "please" falling from her lips like a prayer. Oh, how he adored when she got like this - pride and poise cast aside in favor of raw, aching need. Silco was more than happy to oblige her, diving back in with renewed fervor. He savored the taste, groaning low in his throat as he feasted on her like a starving man, his fingers pumped steadily, curling just to brush that spot inside her. He felt her thighs clamp down around his head, heard her screaming his name as she came undone, her release flooding his mouth.

But Silco didn't stop. He kept going, riding her through her orgasm and straight into another, his tongue lashing at her sensitive flesh, his fingers pumping in and out of her clenching heat. He could feel her fighting it, her body tensing, trying to pull away from the too-much sensation, but he held her in place, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her.

He felt her come again, harder this time, her body convulsing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair so tightly it bordered on pain. He swallowed every drop of her release, groaning at the taste of her, the feel of her coming apart for him.

Only when she went limp beneath him, her body spent and trembling, did Silco finally relent. He pulled back, licking his lips as he admired his handiwork - His sweet dove sprawled on the couch, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. She looked utterly debauched, and fuck if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. A sight that had to be for his eyes only.

"Perfect." He whispered to the void as you seemed to be passed out. Nothing could take away his sense of pride in having reduced you to a limp body lying on the couch, although a part—the one deep inside him—was irritated by the mere idea that someone else could do the same to you. "We can't let that happen, don't you think?"

A rhetorical question to which he already had an answer.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━ 

You blacked out for a second. You'd like to say you lasted longer after the first, but that would be a blatant lie. With Silco consuming you completely—in presence, touch, scent, and the rough sound of his voice—it was impossible to resist. He pushed you to the edge once more, and when you finally fell, the orgasm that crashed over you was even more devastating than the first.

You collapsed onto your side, utterly boneless, as though every bone in your body had dissolved. The exhaustion was so overwhelming that the line between consciousness and unconsciousness blurred with each passing moment. Every muscle in your body screamed in surrender, yet you still found enough energy to let out a soft whimper as you adjusted your legs, trying to ease the discomfort.

Your body was in a state of hyperawareness. You could feel every little detail: the slow but persistent throbbing between your legs, the sensitive, swollen ache of your clit, both painful and pleasurable as the pressure of your thighs shifted.

The heavy silence of the room was broken only by the sound of your ragged, uneven breathing. Each breath felt like an effort, but you began to relax, letting your muscles go slack against the couch. And then you felt it.

His gaze.

Even with your eyes closed, you knew Silco was watching. It was impossible to ignore. Those eyes had the power to strip you bare, as though he could see beyond flesh, directly into what you tried to hide—vulnerability, desire, surrender.

Opening your eyes slowly, you blinked a few times, dislodging the tears that clung stubbornly to your lashes. Your lips curled into a trembling, tired but genuine smile as your gaze found his face. Silco didn't look away. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—dangerous and tender all at once—that made you shift uncomfortably, even in your exhaustion.

"That was the first time..." you began, your voice breathless, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. "By Janna... twice in a row... How is that even possible?"

The words came out in an almost incredulous tone, with a hint of exhausted laughter. You didn't know how he did it, but it seemed Silco knew exactly what to do with your body. Where to touch, what to say, which buttons to press... absolutely everything.

"Give me a minute," you continued, your voice strained with fatigue. "I don't think I can do anything else right now. My body has officially shut down, and it's your fault."

Despite the exhaustion, there was a note of humor in your voice, something you knew he'd pick up on. But it was the truth. Every fiber of your being felt like it had been pushed to its limit, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you had no urge to fight it.

Silco leaned over you, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face with a surprisingly gentle, almost reverent gesture. The touch was a stark contrast to the roughness of his calloused fingers. "Don't worry about me, dove," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, like a whispered melody in the darkness. "I'm more than satisfied with how the night turned out."

He then pressed a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. The fleeting touch was almost contradictory, an unspoken promise hidden behind the faint, teasing smile that played on his lips. "Now, catch your breath. Compose yourself."

He moved away with his usual natural elegance. As he adjusted his clothes, straightening his suit with meticulous care, smoothing out his trousers; taking more careful care of this part for obvious reasons, and running his fingers through his slightly disheveled hair, you watched him silently. He seemed lost in his own world as he tidied himself.

Silco then turned his attention back to you, extending a steady hand to help you sit properly on the couch. With surprising care, he adjusted your skirt, a gesture that felt almost chivalrous coming from the same man who had undone it in the first place. But what truly caught your attention was the way he picked up the garment he had removed from you earlier—your underwear—and slipped it into his trouser pocket without even attempting to hide the act.

You opened your mouth, perhaps to protest, but before you could utter a word, he had already shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The weight of the expensive fabric pressed against your skin, warm from his body heat, carrying his unmistakable scent: lingering tobacco, worn leather, and a metallic note that reminded you of burnt gunpowder or rust. It wasn't necessary—you knew that—but he seemed to relish the idea of covering you, marking the moment with a gesture that was as possessive as it was protective.

"In any case," he said, his voice taking on a teasing tone as his hand rested firmly on your shoulder, the touch deliberate, "You can return the favor next time."

"So that's your excuse to come back to this brothel?" you replied, your tone laced with sarcasm as one eyebrow arched slightly. A sly smile curved your lips as you looked at him. "How predictable, Silco..."

"Oh, I assure you, dove," he murmured, his voice laden with a dangerous softness that made every word sound like a promise. "It's not the only reason I'll return. But, I must admit... it's a rather tempting incentive."

Yet, as he spoke those words, something shifted inside him. A dark and familiar shadow rose, staking its claim on his mind. Suddenly, Silco pulled back. His face, previously brimming with desire and mischief, turned into a mask of indifference.

"I need to go," he said abruptly, the tone of someone ending a conversation with no room for argument. "There's something I need to take care of."

And with that, without another word, he was gone.

Leaving you behind, confused, and his jacket.

[...]

The days following Silco's visit were a series of unsettling events. The changes came slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but you had a knack for picking up on nuances. You were a survivor, and survival meant knowing when something was wrong before it became a bigger problem.

First, there were the furtive glances. Your colleagues at the brothel seemed to watch you with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. There were hushed whispers and abruptly interrupted conversations whenever you walked by. That wasn't new—gossip was as common as the smell of cheap perfume in that place. But this felt different now. Heavier. As if they knew something you didn't.

Then came the anonymous donation. A substantial amount of money, accompanied by a short and direct note, unsigned. Just three words: "For your comfort."

You found yourself staring at the note longer than you should have, the paper trembling slightly in your hands. The tone of the words seemed polite, even kind, but in context... there was no comfort in them. Only confirmation that someone was meddling in your life.

Finally—and perhaps most disturbingly—was the sudden drop in the number of clients. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, something seasonal. The brothel's clientele had its ups and downs, after all. But as the days went by, the reality became unmistakably clear.

The few men who still requested your company exhibited strange behaviors. Gone were the hungry gazes, the invasive touches. They were stiff, as if walking on eggshells, and most seemed incapable of relaxing in your presence. They didn't want closeness, avoided more intimate advances. Instead, they merely asked for your company, remained in an awkward silence while sitting far from you, and left far more money than necessary.

It was disconcerting. The break from routine, the absence of the predictable... it was almost worse than dealing with the unwanted touches you'd learned to ignore.

And then came the confirmation you didn't want. It arrived through a conversation you weren't invited to but overheard from the other side of a door: the men who had been appearing and specifically requesting you, were none other than subordinates of a certain chemical baron.

Silco. Part 3

[tacky-tramp]

An open letter to the Organization for Transformative Works' legal team:

Dear @transformativeworks Legal,

I am requesting that you take action on Speechify/WordStream's wholesale theft of non-commercial fanworks for commercial purposes.

As you are probably aware, Speechify, an app that uses AI voices to turn user-supplied text into audiobooks, has created a spinoff app called WordStream. WordStream has scraped many, many works of fanfiction from AO3, and has published AI-generated audiobooks of these fics. They charge users for access to these audiobooks, under a subscription model. Not only has this company, run by Cliff Weitzman, violated AO3 users' copyrights, it has done so for profit.

I understand that only authors themselves can file DMCA takedown notices when their fics are stolen. However, there are steps the OTW can take on this matter:

1. Notify all AO3 users via email that their work may have been stolen, and give them next steps. This is what companies are required to do in the event of a data breach, and that's effectively what this is.

2. Publish a blog post about WordStream's theft, and promote it on social media.

3. Send a letter to Speechify, educating them about fanfiction and copyright. Explain that fanfiction is *not* in the public domain, and therefore the users whose work they've stolen have legal recourse against them. Demand they take down all fanfiction they have stolen.

4. Reach out through your networks in tech and publishing to raise awareness of this and marshall support for a campaign to pressure Speechify to remove all fanfiction they posted without author permission.

I am a former OTW volunteer, and I would be happy to assist with any of this!

Thanks,

tacky_tramp

[sayruq]

Statement: Student organizations in the Gaza Strip in solidarity with the Student Intifada in the United States

In the name of God, the most gracious, the most merciful… We, the students of Gaza, salute the students of Columbia University, Yale University, New York University, Rutgers University, the University of Michigan, and dozens of universities across the United States who are rising up in solidarity with Gaza and to put an end to the Zionist-U.S. genocide against our people in Gaza. As we remain under the bombs of occupation, resisting Nazi genocide, grieving for our martyred colleagues and faculty, and witnessing the destruction of our universities, we welcome the examples of solidarity offered by students facing arrest, police violence, suspension, eviction, and expulsion in order to demand that their universities end their complicity in the Zionist-U.S. genocide and renounce their support for the occupation and the war profiteers that arm it. We have seen hundreds of students arrested across the United States as they work to transform their universities into “Popular Universities for Gaza.” Students, faculty, and staff are disrupting university operations and making clear that while universities in Gaza are being bombed, university business cannot continue as usual in the United States. These actions come as university administrations collaborate with members of Congress to discredit conscientious student activists and faculty, expel students, ban events, shut down student organizations such as Students for Justice in Palestine, and condemn activists working to end the Nazi genocide. At the same time, these same universities invest in the same companies that profit from the continued sale of weapons to the Zionist regime to continue its genocidal offensive. Our students – and our educational system as a whole – in occupied Palestine are subjected to ongoing genocidal aggression: our universities destroyed and bombed, our student organizations banned, and our student leaders subjected to torture, assassination and mass imprisonment. However, in Palestine and around the world, the student movement has always been a driving force of our struggle for liberation. When we see videos and images from American universities today, we are reminded of our history of student struggle as well as the student uprisings of 1968, which challenged imperialism from Vietnam to Palestine and reshaped the face of Europe and the United States. Now, in 2024, the student movement is once again leading the way. From here in Gaza, we see you and salute you. Your actions and activism matter, especially in the heart of the empire, in the United States. As members of Congress agree to provide $26 billion in additional weapons to bomb our people and continue the Zionist-U.S. genocide, you are taking meaningful action to shut down the war machine on your campuses. It is clear that a new generation is rising that will no longer accept Zionism, racism and genocide, and that stands with Palestine and our liberation from the river to the sea. Your global student solidarity is breaking boundaries, and it is time to smash the US imperialist war machine. From Gaza to Columbia, to Ann Arbor and Berkeley, our hands are joined to end Nazi genocide and achieve our collective liberation.