#partition proceedings

[azamchadvocate]

What Should I Do if an Heir Refuses to Vacate the Property?

In the Pakistani legal landscape, disputes arising from a legal heir’s refusal to vacate inherited property represent complex intersections of statutory rights, religious mandates, and evolving jurisprudential doctrines. These conflicts, often rooted in familial discord, are not merely personal grievances but legal transgressions that obstruct the equitable distribution of inheritance, a process…

[justblades]

⋆｡˚ ♰・priest! sunday x afab! reader

┈─ ・(ex)plicit, mdni. contains 2.2 spoilers, blasphemous themes, impregnation, clit stimulation, oral sex, controlling sunday, not proofread.

Even a mere mortal can sense the regret lingering in the atmosphere of the vicinity, a small space dedicated for confessions and atonement of sins committed by those who believe in the Harmony. Numerous pews stand in rows before a single one, each being occupied by two people at best, to which you draw closer to the confession box— one more person to go and it is time to purify your tainted soul.

It was just muffled murmurs of two people from the latter reverberating inside the hall's six walls, along with the sound of the ceiling fans whirring. Your mind starts to drift onto something else: although you have no idea what others hold with regards to their sins, you still could not help but think that yours is shameful.

You can see the person beside you exit the birch box with teary eyes and stuffed nose as she holds a handkerchief to her face. "Next please." a resolute voice echoes, signalling for you to step forward into the confessional. With a wobbly stature, you stand up and tread forward, proceeding to close the oak door behind you.

The golden lights from the hall seep through the confession booth's partition, gleaming upon your stature - creating a silhouette as to where only the advocate from the other side can peer through the woodworks. You attempt to clear your voice before speaking, a dry throat halting the words you intend to verbalize within.

"I humbly ask for your blessings and the forgiveness of Xipe . . ." You mutter as your eyes dart to nothing that catches your interest except for the parquetry etched on the wooden floorboards. Your head held down low, staring at its intricate designing.

"Please feel free to proceed. I have sought their presence within us." The priest answers. "I have committed a grave sin of succumbing to passing emotions. Primarily, I struggled with regulating the purity of one's mind and it was late that I realized I indulged in an extreme activity to quench the thirst for sexual pleasure." 

A reassuring hum resounds. "As a devout follower of the Harmony, I believe my actions do not align with the path I stride. Therefore, I ask for forgiveness and assistance on how I will repent for the sins I have committed." After forming the confession where in sentences you never thought have ever been uttered, it feels as though a heavy weight was lifted off your chest and the shackles on your feet disintegrated.

Glancing at the frosted, colored glass window in front of you, you noticed how the warm yellow lights in the background flicker repetitively in an instant, as well as the birch surroundings creaking. "By committing a grave sin, you've engaged in an activity with a partner you are not married with." The priest reiterates as if the faulty lights are a common occurrence.

You hum in response. "And by committing an even graver sin, you took part in an activity with an objective aside from procreation. Please correct me if I'm wrong."

"Yes, esteemed advocate. Everything you said was indeed correct." Your heart starts racing, "Do you promise yourself you'll turn your back on this lascivious history to start anew?" He queries.

"Yes, Mister Sunday."

"Even if you were to encounter challenges to test your faith for the Harmony?"

Hesitation ruptures through your composure. Your resolution suddenly cracks, as if it was merely a façade with a longing for forgiveness to move on.

"Be honest." Like the advocate could read your mind as of the moment, you believe in the capabilities of Harmony, so there was no use in feigning cleanliness when you know it in yourself, you still struggle. "I wish to seek assistance from those with wisdom."

You receive another firm hum in response, "Very well. Please see me in the reconciliation room a short time after." Your mind spirals into confusion and bewilderment, the emotions painting your features like you were an open book to the audience.

Trekking off the confessional booth, you did not dare to spare a glance back at the priest and only made your way to the distinct, separate room - the reconciliation. It was small, enclosed, and only an oak table, two pairs of engraved chairs, a single ligneous partition and a kneeler reside within the space. Your vision anchors to the sculpted wooden cross sign hung on the beige walls, illuminated by a faint golden lamp on the table.

Patiently awaiting the presence of the priest, you stood still with a heavy heart, seeming like the relief you felt previously was only a glimpse of what you could've been if you didn't commit such grave sin. If only.

The door swings open, followed by the entrance of the figure you were anticipating. Faded sky blue hues of hair tumble upon the male's shoulders, along with the golden earrings he was donning. Feathered ears diluting into white ripple from his footsteps, and his distinct, golden halo stays afloat behind his head.

Being vis-à-vis with the highly esteemed figure of the Penacony like this tugs your heartstrings in unease. It felt bizarre, as you could recall from others' experiences that when you encounter priests or advocates of the Harmony, your heart rests. As for Sunday, it was the polar opposite. Chills run kilometers up and down your spine, your throat starts to become dry.

You trail your vision downwards, setting your sight upon his graceful features. His eyes were a radiant yellow tinged with an ocean blue, framed by his particularly long lower lashes. He purses his lips tightly, curving upwards, flashing a small smile. "Please take a seat." He motions for the chair in front of your figures, your eyes noticing the cross cut out gloves he's wearing.

Sitting down with guard held up high, Sunday follows suit as he opens the drawer from the oak table, retrieving something of a color white and frilly in texture, as you make of what you could from your peripheral vision. "This will certainly be of help to put your faith to test. If you would kindly turn around."

Your hands rest on your lap and as you hear the last phrase that came out of his mouth, you subconsciously gripped a handful of the fabric you're wearing in alertness. Not until your vision was impaired as Sunday blindfolds you with the latter material, it was soft and delicate to the touch - you could not see anything but faint shadows against the lighting. Everything was ivory white in stark contrast, and you could barely peer through the lace folds to see the priest.

"I will now be tuning your mind with the Harmony to which you will face repercussions if statements untrue to yourself are said." He pauses. Unsure where this will lead to, you had no choice but to nod in continuation. "Under the light of the Harmony, all wickedness is revealed. I implore them to shed their light."

What used to be a blurry white in your vision now fringes into colored edges, the prominent colors being purple, white, red, orange, and yellow.

"This will serve as a gentle reminder that I am assisting you to a path where grave sins  are not succumbed to, and only ▅▅▅ exists alongside philosophy to instill moral duties to a functioning member of a society."

His words cut through the thick atmosphere, thawing the glacial tension growing with each passing second.

He lowers his stature to face you, gloved fingers trailing from the hem of the laced blindfold down to your cheeks, cupping your face lightly with a careful grip. "Does this send a shiver down to your spine?" Sunday inquires and you shake your head in disagreement. It seems like he has a whole plan on how this will play out, and you were merely a pawn in his chessboard to see what you would react under these circumstances he will put you in.

The touch ghosts a caress on your lower parts, specifically, the frame of your chest. His thumb twirls on the middle part with an unraveled goal of making your buds perk up underneath the confinements of your clothing - making you grit your teeth as a poor attempt to stifle the sound threatening to escape.

A question arises amidst the confusing situation, a question that will surely be received in a poor taste as it will question his authority and legitimacy. You wanted to ask, is this really necessary?

However, the aura he exudes now was far different from what he displays when he's in front of the audience of the masses. He seems more strict now, judging from the tone lacing his voice from his query earlier. "Does this feel good?" He proceeds to unbutton your top, letting the fabric come undone and fall down to your lap. A singular  gloved hand of his snakes its way to your back, and with a single fidget, your bra was unclasped.

The priest takes his precious time in all these. He carefully observes the clothing that you wear, as he had come to adore the fact that you were wearing pearly white brassiere, one that was similar to the blindfold's texture and design, it was frilly in the edges and soft to the touch.

A light chuckle slips out, "Well? What's your answer?" Desire and temptation brews within your stomach, even spiking higher as he caresses your mounds with both of his hands. His touches feel light and blissful at the same time, like your body was basking in the warmth and enjoyment the priest had to offer. You struggle to keep your body still, knees trembling even though you were only sitting.

"N-No, Mr. Sunday."

A sharp throbbing ache courses through your head, granting him a wince of both surprise and pain. "It appears that you haven't put your mind and whole heart to this yet." He says as he walks away from your stature, leaving you dumbfounded. As silence encompasses the vicinity, you hear the male seat himself on the chair across from you. "Come to me." He simply orders.

"Just take steps forward and trust me."

With blind faith, you solemnly obey - approaching his figure with an extremely bleary vision. As your feet meet with an obstacle, seemingly the chair's legs, you stop in your tracks. "Now straddle my lap." Following suit, you feel a bulging sensation under your remaining clothing. Your breath becomes even more jagged than before, especially now that your clothed folds come in contact with his throbbing dick. It was clear cut enough that it was his erection continuously growing.

A brief moment passes and Sunday continues to envelop your hard buds within his lips, teeth grinding on your nipples in an attempt to inflict pain and pleasure all at the same time. "M— Mr. Sunday . . !" You yelp but he does not halt. He proceeds to twirl his warm, slick tongue all over your glazed areolas, your boob dancing in rhythm with his mouth in somewhat harmonic tunes played by your stifled mewls.

His other free hand pulls you tighter to his chest as he adjusts his position, bucking his hips upwards to create some sort of friction. The tip of his covered cock brushes against your already wet slit, granting him another lewd sound - this time, a soft moan. "I— I— I can't—" your hands clutch on the man's broad shoulders, feeling his long, muted blue and white locks tangle along your fingers. "You can. Yes you can. Only a little bit more you would be rewarded by proving your loyalty to the ▅▅▅."

Your sense of hearing downgrades as your mind drifts into pure bliss, lower limbs becoming numb as more pleasure courses through your veins. As if it's still not enough, Sunday simply lowers your remaining clothes to your feet, revealing your folds sopping wet with arousal already.

With haste and care in Sunday's every movement, he lays your back on the table in between the chairs, forcibly revealing everything down there to him — for him to revel in. The gelid wind traces shivers upon your sweat dewed skin, especially your folds now glimmering with muddy white liquids.

He raises your legs and stands up, resting your lower limbs upon his shoulders. The position is embarrassing enough as it is, but having the priest tower over you is another experience that feels even more intense than what unfolded previously. Not to mention that the throbbing pang in your head brought by your dishonesty upon the Harmony worsens minute by minute.

The male buries his face in your inner thighs first, flicking his tongue over your soft skin while his eyes are darted on your face, in high alert to which action of his you will react the most to. "Need I remind you to be honest this time around? Or is the headache that you're feeling not sufficient for you to stay true to your words?" He asks with a demanding tone, the margins of his lips drawing closer and closer to your slit.

"I have learned my lesson, Mr. Sunda—"

Gloved fingers begin to stimulate your clit, moving in motions you cannot fathom with your current state - your lower body jerking up in response to the stimulation. A sly smile creeps up on Sunday's face, his navy blue pupils fixating on each of your actions and expressions.

All you could think of was the fact that he didn't even let you finish, he went straight to pleasure you more, the sensation becoming more overwhelming as he starts to glide the tip of his tongue on your folds. "Do you feel good?" Although his voice was muffled from the proximity from his face and your pussy, you could comprehend and immediately answer, "Yes! I-I feel good . . !"

You rack your head back once Sunday buries his face further into your inner thighs, wallowing himself in your slit as he sucked on your sweet spot, sticking his tongue into your velvet walls while still toying with your clitoris. You bite back your moans, you cannot afford to lose the remaining dignity you had in you left - if there was any.

"Don't do that."

His voice sounds stern as ever, you were left with no choice yet again but to let mewls and moans come undone at this point in time. You were noisy, along with the sucking sounds accompanied by your hums of pleasure, continually bouncing off of the reconciliation room's four walls. "Very good. As for the last part, you must continue to be truthful, to stand by the ▅▅▅, and to ▅▅▅ to what I ought to be ▅▅▅ for you. Do you understand?"

Much to your relief, your vision was once again back to normal as he unties the lacey blindfold on your eyes. This time, you could see Sunday's disheveled hair, as well as the golden earrings dangling at every movement he makes. He swiftly unzips his slacks, therefore revealing his cock he had been concealing for so long before. It stands in its full glory, hues of purple and indigo veins threatening to pop - it was evident he's at his limit.

"Use your mouth. Make me feel good." He commands and peers at you with a somber expression. You muster enough strength on your body to stand up and kneel in front of him, positioning your head in a perfect angle to receive him. Slowly parting your lips open, he shoves his dick inside you, granting you a hoarse moan of satisfaction slipping past his lips.

You bob your head up and down and as if it felt natural to wrap your digits around the remaining length of his cock, you pump him in accordance to your pace, taking him inside with no hesitation, with only one goal in mind: to make him feel good. You could feel the crown of his dick kiss your throat every time you go deeper, making your eyes water as you try to keep yourself from gagging for the priest's satisfaction.

"That's enough, stand up." Your momentum was cut off as he hooks his arms on yours, making you stand from your previously kneeling position. It seems he has indulged enough in your submission and now it is time for him to try something new, something far more amusing in his perspective.

With both of your statures still standing up, he flips you around, making your back face him. He can examine every nook and cranny of your body in this way, and with a hum of approval, he bends you over slightly, wrapping his arms around your waist and reach for your tits. Your breath deepens, more beads of sweat proceed to trickle down your naked body. "M-Mr. Sunday, are we really going to do it?" you ask as he wraps his hand around himself, brushing his tip on your entrance.

He stops in his movements. "Do you have a problem with that?" A domineering tone laces that sole sentence, one that a person cannot delve deeper furthermore.

With one more stroke, he finally pushes himself inside your velvet walls, molding themselves around the shape of Sunday's dick - wallowing in the pleasure and warmth he emanates inside you. "So . . . warm . . ." He whispers, his breath ghosting a caress on the shell of your ear.

Sunday builds up his pace from a painfully slow one to picking it up, thrusting into you with additional force, pistoning your pussy as he's balls deep. Sounds of skin slapping add onto the lewd tune you two have been playing for the past hour, a whole sixty minutes of pleasure pooling your stomach and arousals seeping out of your holes.

Your legs start to quiver once more, exhaustion gnawing at your bones. But amidst this, Sunday kept you still with his force, hitting your sweet spots with the tip of his cock. If you could beg for mercy as of the moment, you certainly would take the chance. But to who, exactly? To whoever aeon is witnessing this lascivious act unfold in front of them, committed in such a religious place?

Or perhaps to Sunday, who you've knelt to before, received him inside your body in more ways than one. Perhaps. Perhaps it is he who shall show you mercy in the heat of the moment.

"M-Mr. Sunday, please forgive me!"

Interest sparks inside his mind, revelling in the way of being viewed as someone highly, someone sought out, someone in a legitimate authority. "You shall be forgiven." He states as he bites down on the blade of your shoulder, teeth leaving a bite mark and an aching sensation alongside it. You could do nothing but wince in pain, but waves of pleasure start to crush upon your conscious self.

Surely this is too much pleasure to handle for someone asking for forgiveness as they committed a grave sin for partaking in debauchery . . . but to be done this way by a priest is a little too exhilarating.

He picks up the pace, earning himself more moans of pleasure escape your lips, "I'll ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ inside you." Sunday says as a fair warning, but a sentence you could only form at the present time was a lighthearted "Do as you please, Mr. Sunday."

With one single thrust, strings of satisfaction sprawl inside your womb. It feels warm yet again, but now, comforting in stark contrast to the nervousness welling up in your heart earlier.

"Well done. As you've shown resolution that you're on a path to atone for the sins you've committed in the past, you shall be forgiven."

[thewertsearch]

After making first contact, occasions which she generally kept cordial, she would move on to new territory while a division of her fleet set a course for the unfortunate civilization, and proceeded to tear it apart.

That’s so sinister. It sounds like Her Condescension is outwardly as friendly as Feferi – but while Feferi’s demeanor merely concealed a slightly nasty streak, her Ancestor’s hides true evil behind a cheerful mask.

It could be any of the lethal brigades under her command to receive the orders, be it the Threshecutioners, Cavalreapers, Laughsassins, or Ruffiannihilators.

We’re really coming full circle with these brigade names. They’ve all been mentioned before, some as early as the beginning of Hivebent.

The first position was idolized by Karkat.

The second, by Tavros.

The third was mentioned by Gamzee.

And the fourth is for bruisers like Equius.

A place for everyone, and everyone in their place. Now, isn’t that just lovely?

She’s so evil... but she looks so cool... but she’s so evil...

The Empress doesn’t give particularly strong Feferi vibes, but that's mostly due to her outfit, as well as the undeniable aura of menace she exudes.

Feferi definitely has a dark side, and I’m fully willing to believe that this was what she could have been, if she didn’t break the mold by having a conscience.

If angered, she could simply express her grievance through communion with her ancient lusus of the deep, and turn its psychic devastation on her multitudes. The class hierarchy played into her hands politically in this respect. Killing off a haphazard swathe of the population, or an entire class, was suitable as a measure of last resort, but mass extermination does not lend itself well to practical governance. Its looming threat however is quite effective, especially while her empire was partitioned neatly into blood castes.

How convenient for her. It’s almost like this woman’s entire civilization was designed from the ground up to be impossible to improve, reform, or overthrow.

In fact, you could almost believe that Alternia’s entire purpose as a planet was to prepare twelve bloody-minded teenagers for the trials required to speedrun a video game, fall at the last hurdle, and ‘accidentally’ unleash a universe-eating abomination.

Almost.

[astrophileous]

Derek giggling when Bug starts to waddle due to pregnancy 🤭 she doesn’t find it funny or endearing at all but he literally cannot stop watching her. He tells the team about it too and they just.. kinda smile and nod because they’re just happy that he is.

Somewhat a continuation of this other Love Bugs blurb. Thanks for the request love! (and apologies for the delay because I've been very focused on The Countdown lately)

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer stretched his back at the mysterious and unfamiliar sound. Next to him, JJ's eyes squinted in concentration.

"You hear that, too?" JJ mumured as she studied her surroundings, trying to pinpoint where exactly the sound was originating from.

Spencer nodded in confusion. "Who the hell—"

The question died in his throat when his eyes finally landed on the figure sitting across the room.

"No way." Spencer's elbow jabbed JJ's side, snatching her attention. "It's Morgan."

"Morgan? Derek Morgan?" JJ craned her neck to see around the partitions that blocked her direct line of sight. "What is he—don't tell me. Is he... is he giggling?"

As if confirming the ridiculous notion, Derek proceeded to cover his mouth and broke into, not laughter and not even a chuckle, but a series of giggles that made his broad shoulders shook. JJ and Spencer exchanged an incredulous look before they meandered sneakily towards him.

"Someone's happy," JJ quipped as she leaned back against the conference table, right next to where Derek was sitting.

The man in question looked up at the sudden interruption.

"What are you even watching in there?" Spencer asked curiously, trying to take a peek at the screen of Derek's phone that the latter man had been grinning at for the past few minutes.

Instead of tilting his phone away, Derek unexpectedly faced the screen towards his two coworkers instead, giving them an unobstructed view of what appeared to be a video of you.

"Penelope sent it to me." Derek grinned before pressing replay. "She waddles."

The video started playing then, showing a footage of you walking like a penguin as you struggled to carry the various snacks inside your arms. You looked up to the camera at the sound of Penelope's laughter, your face twisting into a pout when you noticed that it was pointed towards you.

"Peennn," you whined childishly. "Are you filming for him again?"

"He said he wants to see one where you waddle, Beets."

The scowl you were wearing was clearly visible through the screen. "Tell him to stop. It's not cute."

"I don't know." Penelope hummed. "It's pretty damn adorable from where I'm sitting."

The video ceased to black after that, and Derek retracted the device without ever wiping the smile off his face.

"You've been watching this for the past ten minutes?" Spencer questioned.

"Yeah."

The younger man looked as if he had something else to say, but he never got the chance to, as Derek was quick to immerse himself back in the video and watching it so earnestly as if it was the greatest movie in the history of mankind. Spencer and JJ shared a look before making themselves scarce. It was definitely weird seeing Derek act this way, but they didn't mind it one bit if it implied Derek's unadulterated happiness and your guaranteed safety.

For the rest of their stay in Louisville, Kentucky, the BAU became witness to Derek's blooming glee as it incessantly doubled in size with every video Penelope sent his way. More often than not, he'd let the team watch the videos as well. After all, they had also been missing your presence in their midst since you began your maternity leave, and every single one of them couldn't wait to finally welcome your baby boy into the world when the time finally came.

Derek was buzzing with excitement the moment they boarded the jet, impatiently counting down the minutes until he would see you again as the jet started its ascend. An hour before they were supposed to land, his phone began to ring in his pocket, flashing with the affectionate contact name that he had assigned for the team's tech analyst.

"Yeah, babygirl? What?" The sudden raising of his voice caught the attention of everyone on the jet. They watched from their respective seat as Derek sat up straight, running a frantic hand over his face. "Okay. Yeah? And how is she? That's good. Alright, thanks for calling. Keep me posted."

The call ended after that, and Derek, uncharacteristically, proceeded to sit in silence for the following minute as if he had been frozen in time.

"Everything okay?" Rossi asked, voicing the question that was circling everyone's mind.

"That was Penelope. It's (Y/N)." The atmosphere shifted. "She's going into labor."

[doitforbangchan]

Partition - Hyunjin

Requested by my new bestie @jehhskz ❤️ I appreciate you so much for supporting my writing and sincerely hope you enjoy ☺️

Masterlist

Hyunjin x reader

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, cursing, semi public sex (no one’s watching but someone’s around), kissing, mild dom! hyunjin, not proof read

MDNI 18+

WC: 1.2K

His mouth was intoxicating.

Hyunjins kisses were always like that. Full of passion, and so so soft.

Currently he has you cornered into a wall in his dressing room. Him and the other members had to do a talk show in New york and were, for once, given their own personal dressing rooms.

The second he was through that door you attacked him with a hug, telling him how good he did and how proud you are. You know that sometimes he needs the reassurance.

Reassurance really wasn’t he was looking for though- as he immediately pressed you into the nearest wall,mouth finding yours in a frenzy.

Hyunjin trailed his nimble fingers down to your thighs and under your skirt, coming to rub at your core through your underwear.

“Need you now, my love.” He mumbled against your lips.

You answered him with a tug to his beautiful hair, pressing your body further into him looking for more friction from his fingers.

Sensing your motives, he quickly removed his hand from your core and pushed your panties down your thighs. The garment limply falling down to your ankles and you stepped one leg out.

You brought your own hands down to shove his pants down just enough to reveal his cock from its confines.

“Please Jinnie.” you whined when he hooked one of your legs around his waist.

“Shhh sweet girl, I'll give you what you want.”

Just as he was lining himself up to push into you, there was a sudden knock on the door.

Hyunjin halted his actions with a frustrated sigh.

“What?” He called out.

“Hey Hyun, i know you’re… busy but the staff need to clean up and get going soon so you’re ride is here to take you to the hotel..” He heard Chan's voice through the door.

Hyunjin let out a deep breath before replying. “Yeah ok. We’ll be right out.” he pressed a peck to your lips before he pulled away.

“My love..” you wanted to cry. He was so close to giving you his dick.

“I know baby, we gotta go though. We can continue this later. I promise.” Then he buttoned his pants and pulled your panties back up over you.

—————————————————

When Chan said ‘ride’ you were sure it meant a taxi. Not a limousine just for you two to take back to the hotel.

‘Wow, I guess being on Americas number one talk show has its perks’ you thought.

Climbing in the back you found it to be very spacious, plenty of legroom.

Once Hyunjin was situated beside you the vehicle started moving towards your destination. On the other side of the city.

You curled into your boyfriend's left side, your hands playing with his fingers. To anyone looking it would appear that you’re just two lovers resting, but if they looked close enough they would notice the dirty smirk on Hyunjins face. This was perfect.

He called out to the driver “Do you mind if we close the partition? We might take a little nap before we get there.”

“Not a problem, sir” the driver responded then proceeded to raise the screen.

Once it was up completely up Hyunjin looked down at you with a wicked smile. His eyes had a glimmer of mischief.

He spoke in a low tone, what could be considered a whisper “ Make sure to keep quiet, my love.”

With a sudden quickness your boyfriend pushed you onto his lap and laid himself down on the seat.

You yelped in surprise, not expecting his movements. He yanked you down softly to capture your lips with his. Probably to silence your mouth.

His one hand held your mouth to his while his other hand found purchase on your hips, his soft skin causing goosebumps to erupt on your own.

You lightly ground yourself core into his, your neediness never going away from your previous rendezvous.

Hyunjin let out a whimper against your lips. Now he has released your face and used both hands to guide your hips over his.

“Lemme get my pants down, then you can ride me all you want sweetheart.”

You helped him bring his garments down his thighs once more, his member slapping up against his stomach, a drop of precum smearing against his toned skin. It made your mouth water. You would definitely need to suck on that later.

You used one hand to pull your panties to the side, and he used his to line himself up- before pushing into you with a slow even thrust.

You opened your mouth to let out a groan at the feeling but Hyunjin knew it was coming and yanked you down to his mouth once more.

He let you go once he was fully seated inside.

“Now what did i say about keeping quiet, hmm?” He asked you in a teasing voice. “If you continue to make all those pretty noises then we can’t do this anymore. Is that what you want? You wanna stop?”

You shook your head hastily.

“That’s what I thought. Now be my good girl and keep your mouth shut.”

You adjusted yourself in his lap, hands coming to his chest to steady yourself before you began riding Hyunjin like your life depended on it.

The handsome man under you was biting his lip trying his best to keep in his moans, but fuck you we’re squeezing his dick so tightly.

He was sure he was addicted to your pussy.

You both were so worked up from the foreplay back in the dressing room, in no time you were on the brink of orgasm.

“Almost there Jinnie.” you whispered between pants.

He knew you needed that extra push to get there,

so he brought his digits to your clit, his quick circles being exactly what you needed.

You covered your mouth before the moan could escape, tears leaking from your eyes at the pleasure.

Watching you get caught up in your orgasm brought Hyunjin to own.

Though unlike you, he wasn’t able to keep his sounds to himself. His breathy moans breaching through his lips and it was you who had to shut him up this time.

You slapped your hand over his mouth, muffling him best you could. Hopefully the driver was none the wiser to your antics. But you had a feeling you weren’t that lucky.

When Hyunjin had finally come down from his high he slowly removed you from his lap, his pulling out causing the cum he filled you with to seep out of your hole. His eyes widening at the sight and his dick throbbing. If he wasn’t so spent he would fuck it back into you.

He adjusted his dick back into his pants just in time as the driver lowered the partition ever so slightly to alert you both that the hotel was just ahead, his voice sounded shy.

You thanked the driver earnestly, then gave your lover a sweet kiss. “Let’s go, lover boy. I can feel your cum dripping into my panties- time for a shower.”

He smirked lazily at you, fingers tapping on your leaking pussy,

“Shower? Nah, I think I want dinner.”

—————————-

©doitforbangchan

[dissensionads]

𝑺𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆.

Welcome  to  Volner-Downe  Inc.,  where  progress  is  not  just  measured—it  is  curated.  You’re  about  to  embark  on  a  journey  toward  personal-professional  harmony,  powered  by  our  proudest  innovation:  the  Dissension  Procedure™.  This  patented,  board-approved  neurological  separation  offers  participants  the  ultimate  gift—a  life  unburdened  by  labor  or  personal  pains  better  left  at  home.  Imagine  waking  up  refreshed,  unaware  that  another  version  of  you  has  been  contributing  tirelessly  to  society’s  advancement.  No  stress.  No  guilt.  No  pesky  memories  of  filing  reports  or  sitting  through  time-inefficient  meetings.  Just  you,  at  your  best—half  the  time,  all  the  reward. We  understand  that  new  developments  can  raise  questions,  even  mild  emotional  fluctuations  ( don’t  worry—we’ve  accounted  for  those ).  Please  know  that  all  Dissension  participants  enjoy  top-tier  medical  observation,  plush  ergonomic  seating,  and  curated  social  interactions  designed  to  maintain  morale  at  industry-leading  levels.  Should  any  adjustment  period  occur—say,  a  brief  disorientation,  the  occasional  mirror  hallucination,  or  a  strong  emotional  response  to  sunshine—our  Cognitive  Reintegration  Specialists  are  fully  equipped  to  assist.  Such  incidents,  of  course,  are  exceedingly  rare,  and  often  resolved  with  herbal  tea,  light  recalibration,  or  a  brief  nap  in  our  Reflection  Pods.  We  take  pride  in  rewarding  exceptional  behavior,  whether  that’s  through  commemorative  pins,  snack  vouchers,  or  a  featured  spot  in  our  quarterly  Employee  Luminary  Ledger. We  at  Volner-Downe  believe  that  one  day,  humanity  will  see  the  Dissension  Procedure  not  just  as  a  milestone,  but  as  a  moral  obligation.  Why  suffer  from  the  weight  of  dual  responsibility  when  we  can  tidy  it  up  for  you?  The  self  is  a  luxury  that  was  never  meant  to  multitask.  So  relax.  Unclench.  Your  Outie  is  safe,  your  Innie  is  productive,  and  your  endowment  to  our  future  is  already  happening; so  we  thank  you  for  your  contribution—however  subconsciously  rendered.  Welcome  to  Volner-Downe  Inc.™:  Your  life,  organized. Please  note:  Volner-Downe  Inc.  is  not  liable  for  any  deaths,  surgical  irregularities,  loss  of  cognitive  integrity,  spontaneous  emotional  eruptions,  or  permanent  dissociative  consequences  resulting  from  participation  in  the  Dissension  Procedure™  or  any  adjacent  sub-protocols.  By  proceeding,  you  accept  all  terms  as  lovingly  implied.  Thank  you  for  your  service—even  if  you  don’t  remember  giving  it.

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒚. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚.

THE  HOUSE  OF  DISSENSION  is  a 21+  original,  psychological  horror, drama, and political  roleplay  set  in  a  retrofuturist  2028,  where  identity  has  become  a  product,  obedience  a  prescription,  and  silence  the  only  permitted  rebellion.  Inspired  by  Severance,  Succession,  The  Sims,  and  Control,  it  explores  corporate  surveillance,  manufactured  realities,  and  the  ghost-like  aftermath  of  partitioned  lives.  The  aesthetic  is  mid-century  modern  gone  sterile:  sleek  chrome,  synthetic  smiles,  and  cocktail  parties  hosted  beneath  the  glare  of  hidden  cameras.  Centered  around  profound  character  evolution,  embracing  dark  narratives,  intricate  personal  journeys,  immersive  world-building,  and  transformative  plot  developments  designed  to  challenge  your  character  and  reshape  the  very  fabric  of  their  reality. This  world  is  curated  to  the  point  of  collapse,  built  on  a  foundation  of  inherited  power,  manipulated  memory,  and  the  slow,  aching  horror  of  being  erased  while  alive.  More  information  will  be  declassified  on  May  18th.  Until  then—remember  your  place,  repeat  your  mantras,  and  above  all  else:  we’re  happy  to  be  here.

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘, 𝗙𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗢𝗪 𝗢𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗘𝗫𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧 & 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗗𝗜𝗕𝗦 𝗢𝗡 𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗦 !

[sarawritestories]

NESSIAN WEEK DAY 3: Symphony

Summary: Plagued by the Nightmares from the war, leaving Nesta in a state of panic; Cassian does the only thing he can think of to calm her down...sing.

A/N: Happy @nessianweek! I'm super excited to partake in this as Nessian is one of my favorite ships! And note I will add story tags later!

Happy Reading!

Divders by @tsunami-of-tears

"I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta."

Nesta's sobs caused her body to uncontrollably shake as she gripped the General of the Night Court's armies' hand. The carnage of battle widdled down to background noise to the overwhelming grief she was feeling. Cassian's hand lossenrd slightly, and her silver eyes darted toward his undeniable handsome face that was quickly losing color. His eyes once vibrant morphed into muted color of Hazel, lips dried as he tried cracking her a smile. "Nesta, I..." He coughed blood, trickling down his mouth, his siphons were beginning to dim.

Panic crept into the eldest Archeron's system as she furiously shook her head. Her heart rate began to quicken as she gripped his large calloused hand tighter, as if she could will the life back into his body. "No! I forbid you to die." He sputtered once more as he reached out with his free hand, cupping her cheek, lightly catching tears she didn't know were falling. "Please. Don't go. I want to do things differently.

"I will find you in the next life, Nes. We'll do things differently. We'll get that time." He pressed his lips to hers, and she clung to him, hoping the air from her lungs could keep his from stopping.

Cassian's grip on her loosened completely, and as she pushed away, he was falling back to the ground his eyelids remained shut, never to show Nesta the vibrant Honey color she had grown to yearn for. His chest was no longer rising, and the realization settled into her bones.

Cassian, The Lord of Bloodshed, General of the Night Court's Armies, Her Friend was dead.

The scream Nesta unleashed rattled the ground before her, and she continued until her voice was raw. She laid down upon his chest as the grief threatened to pull her under. She shut her eyes, ready to succumb to the darkness.

"Nesta!" The low timbre of his voice rattled in her skull, and she squeezed her already shut eyes tighter. "Nesta, wake up!" His voice proceeded to get louder and more panicked. She refused to obey his command, afraid of what she would see.

Then she felt it, the sharp tug against her chest. She dared to peek to see she was in a dark void alone. However, the gold string emerging from her chest was glowing brightly, leading her away from the darkness and into the light. Finally, Cassian called out once more, "Sweetheart! Come back to me! Wake. UP!"

The Archeron sister awoke with a jolt, no longer was on the bloody battlefield of Hybern or the dark void that plagued her mind. She was in her room face to face with the one person she thought she lost forever.

"Cassian." Nesta whispered as she took in her mates face. The General's face had a look of concern, but his eyes held that beautiful color of Hazel she had grown to find comfort and love. Stubble covered the lower half of his face as his lips help a firm tight line. His hair was up in a bun, and a few strands framed his face. Panic was still racing through Nesta's body as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the side of his neck.

Cassian was quick to grip her hips the cool silk of her night gown now warm by Nesta's rising temperature. He instinctively wrapped his wings around the two of them like a partition. "Nes, talk to me, Sweetheart."

Her voice was muffled between the sobs. But the words "You" and "Died" could be made out with his fae hearing.

Rubbing soothing circles in her back, he began to rock her. "I'm right here. It was a bad dream." He attempted to pull away to look at her, but she gripped his night shirt tightly. Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Nesta's anguish flooded him through the bond. He hadn't seen her this rattled in a decade. He couldn't recall the last time she had a night terror like this.

An idea formed in his head. Adjusting his grip on his wife, he hoisted her in his arms and moved from their shared bed to the chair that faced the window. He began to hum as he took a seat, placing her back gently on his lap. Her sobs slowed for a moment so Cassian continued.

After a moment, the words poured out of him, a sweet melody in his voice. The song discussed being safe in his arms, that he would be her shield in the face of the dangers of the world. That his life is better because she was in it. That what she gave him was enough and would always be enough for him.

Nesta's sobs had stopped, and she slowly began to lift her head to listen to him better. She never known him to be a singer, but there was a comfort in his voice that instantly soothed her. Made her feel less afraid, no longer alone.

Cassian continued to sing as Nesta laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes beginning to flutter shut as her mate lulled her into a peaceful slumber. Dreaming of the life they would share together and the safety of being in his arms.

For in the Lord of Bloodshed's Arms, his Lady Death would always be Safe and Sound.

[zafrinaxyz]

the tent

cw 18+ mdni ★ fem!reader . power imbalance . great uniter's harem . dom!kuvira . takes place during the height of the earth empire . ig it would be cnc . imagine ? part ll coming soon

★ you are among hundreds of female servants in the main camp. until one day you were summoned personally by a general. you are then taken to a remote tent, separate from the main base. you are slightly panicking. did you mess up somewhere? your constantly thinking of all the chores you had already done, wondering what couldve gone wrong..

★ once you arrive inside, to your shock you discover kuvira nude on a massage bed directly in the middle of the tent, surrounded by 3 other servant girls. she is lying on her stomach, with a towel covering her backside. the current occupied spots where both of her arms, and her left leg. they were... giving her a massage? one of the generals tells you to change clothes behind a partition in the corner. once done, you were ordered to stand by her face for instruction. she tells you the 4th girl had fallen ill, and that you will be taking her place

★ obviously unable to refuse, you bow, then fill in the empty space and begin working. dipping your hand in the warm oil, the anxiety begins to resurface. you didn't know how to give a massage.. & did the 4th girl really get sick or did something worse happen.. the other girls didn't look nervous.. maybe bc they've been doing this for awhile.. how long has this been going on? probably since the base was established you'd imagine. is this a nightly thing.. god you hope not. do you know how dreadful it would be to have to do this every night after a long day of your other chores.. you might as well jump in front of a car the next time the opportunity presents itself.. anyway, to start you begin following the same rhythm as the other girl in front of you- slow and deep kneading. huh, that was easy enough to follow ... thank god

★ her skin was so soft and smooth.. which makes sense. she was a rather strict woman. very strict.. very anal.. about everything.. things had to be a certain way at all times or there would be consequences. she smelled amazing too. it was actually quite intoxicating. over time you realized this actually wasn't that bad. you were able to zone out and just focus on a small section of her body which was nice (and efficient). kuvira was all about efficiency. she could be brutal sometimes but she was smart.. really smart. it was quite admirable really ...

★ a timer went off which startled you. kuvira moaned, stilled for a moment, and then proceeded to only dismiss the first 3 girls... shit. i mean again, you are not a professional by any stretch of the imagination.. you stood still, not really sure what else to do. she ordered the guards away as well .. ah, so she was going to kill you herself ... awesome. once the noise finally settled. she informed you that you would be staying behind for a special confidential task

if you knew this would be your final day, you would've gotten extra sweets to go along with your breakfast this morning

. . .

do not repost, copy, or translate any of my original work

[lurkinginnernarrator]

MDZS au where WWX isn't rescued by the jiangs and he basically becomes a Mafia boss. Or whatever the equivalent for ancient Xianxia China Mafia boss is

Just, imagine it: An elegant man robed in white ducks into a low den, tucked away in the labyrinthine city alleys.

A fair yet strong hand pushes aside gauzy carmine arrases, yet his keen vision remains partially veiled. Lazy clouds of smoke intermingle with the rich fabrics that cocoon the low-slung chambers.

Men and women alike crowd the ornate hall, a variety of characters all in different stages of repose. The rich tones of liquor, incense and secondhand smoke perfume the room. From respectable scholars to disreputes of society, unowned and owned women, thieves and merchants, criminals.

The low humming of a multitude creates a melodious baseline of noise.

A thin yet surprisingly forceful hand clamps down on Lan Wangji's shoulder. Lacquered nails dig through the fabric and into his muscles. A feminine voice cuts through the polyrhythmic thrum of voices, drawling.

"And what, is a man like you doing here?"

Woman and cultivator meet eyes. She's small, yet her build is strong. Wrapped in vermillion brocade, cold eyes and a strong brow. Hair bound tightly, ornamented with glinting hairpins. There are blades hung on her belt. Lan Wangji bows his head respectfully, baritone joining the chorus of voices around.

"I would like to meet him."

Her gaze is sharper than a serrated edge. She steps deeper into the room, eyes flicking about the occupants and back to Lan Wangji. Back turned, he can only see the profile of her face as she considers the audacity of his request.

"And why should I, Bái-daozhang?"

白 Bái: Artic, Snowy, White, Bright.

Steadily, he replies.

"I would speak to him."

She snorts, swinging her head in his direction.

"I'm afraid a reason like that won't suffice. And quite simply, Bái-daozhang, you remain here on my sufferance.

State your goal."

Four women bleed out from the crowd, penning him in.

Right as Lan Wangji was about to speak, a strong and merry voice calls out from the depths of the chamber.

"Li-jiejie! What have you caught there? Bring it here."

She glares at Lan Wangji but motions him forward, deeper into the den. Two red clad women flank him, escorting him to the source of that mellifluous voice. His eyes search for the other two, but it seems they bled back into the hubbub.

He's hustled through curtains and past partitions, the crowd thinning out the further he's taken. More and more red robed persons flit past his vision.

Two guards stand by a veiled doorway, stances relaxed yet emitting a dangerous aura. They merely observe as Lan Wangji is ushered through the heavy embroidery and silks.

Low tables lurk at the edges of the room, from the rafters hang black tapestries, the smell of wood and candle wax welcomes him in. A draft carries the signature of wine to him.

Littered around the room are people, some caught in amicable conversation, others observing the proceedings.

His generals, perhaps.

At the head of the room is a man. The man. He sprawls on a mahogany throne, cushions and pillows artistically strewn about him, lending his position overabundant gravitas.

An irreverent hand swirls a jar of wine. Leather braces peek out from beneath long black sleeves that fan about his sides. His robes cling to his chest and torso, displaying the man's lithe and powerful body.

Not dissimilar easygoing musculature of a panther. He moved like a river at night.

Black and grey skirts played about his ankles, the polished leather of his boots catching the diffused light.

His waist was trim and firm, wrapped in crimson textile, the red of his waist meeting the black of his chest in pleasing contrast. Lan Wangji's eyes travelled up. Tanned skin parted his collars, revealing a structured collar-bone and sinewy neck. Long hair framed his bust, locks burning copper in the light.

Outdoors from a young age would explain the bronze appearance and sunbaked hair.

Grey eyes caught his.

Ornamented by a winsome face and charming smile, those intelligent eyes took note of Lan Wangji's every detail.

"What have we here?"

The woman, Miss Li he supposes, gave the lissome man a respectful bow.

"Bái-daozhang here claims a desire to speak with you."

The beautiful face turns inquisitive.

"Bái-gege, what can this lowly man do for you?"

"Lan."

Lan Wangji is inwardly surprised at his sudden reply.

Eyebrows raise and the handsome man's eyes twinkle in delight

"Lan-gege, then."

Lan Wangji watches as wine-stained lips wrap around the syllables.

The flippant hand loosely brings the jar to his lips, chin tilted up, exposing the lewd column of his throat as it bobbed.

"What brings a respectable cultivator like Lan-gege to this Wuxian's hospitality?"

No one has ever spoken his name the way he did. Playful, warm and teasing. Flirtatious.

Lan Wangji would like to hear him speak it again.

Wei Wuxian leans forward as Lan Wangji explains.

Their gazes never waver from the other. It was as if they were the only two in the room.

[yaknowlikenyah]

My 3 days of Linux adventures

I figured out how to copy an iso onto a flashdrive to install linux and after realizing I was hitting the wrong BIOS menu button after a few hours of trial and error and a call to my more tech savvy sister

Started linux setup, got steam on there, realized how many of my games were windows only downloads, and proceeded to research for another couple hours how to get wine running and what front end to use because my computer has 3 gb of ram and I didn't trust that it could handle duel running OSs

Figure out there's literally a button for it in steam download options after which I say fuck it pass out and just reinstall linux the next morning hours faster than the first time I did.

Yay! Games installed!!

Download discord. Discord calls sound like I'm talking through a tin can on a landing strip no matter what settings I mess with. Assume it's something to do with the wifi cutting out. Investigate for hours to experiment with wifi power saving and settings and finally throw in the towel to talk to my sister again

My wifi despite showing two bars is actually faster than it's ever been and is downloading at ~100mbs. Give up for the night

Wake up the next morning to figure out what was fucking up, play around with mic settings and levels before finally reading a forum post from two years ago talking about window's auto installed noise cancellation drivers.

Resign myself to either needing to buy an external mic that's not right next to my computer's half broken fan, or needing to download specific noise canceling drives from github

Struggle with figuring out how to run shit from github for an hour

Resign myself to the external mic pt 2, try to boot up my favorite little rpgmaker puzzle game and it runs like a slideshow. This is my limit. I need my little mimic chest puzzle.

Begin researching again. Learn about more drivers I could potentially try installing or the much simpler method of just dual booting (computer has no ram. She's so old you guys)

Finally throw in the towel completely and decide to unfortunately switch back to Windows10. Download the iso accidentally and struggle around with getting it on the usb before getting the rar I need and the program to reformat the usb to take it (thank you ventoy) and struggle to download it while making sense of tutorials

Try to boot it. Fail.

What the fuck is a partition

Finally realized at this point that the prefix 'Sudo' in ubuntu is the command to run from root. That wouldve been nice to know

Finally delete partitions, run windows and get it reinstalled.

Honestly a 10/10 experience had a blast would do again

[girlactionfigure]

One of the biggest and lesser known stories of Nov 29 is that the lands allocated to a Jewish state (two color map) were essentially those the Zionists reclaimed from malaria through land purchase, science and education (blue map). Moreover, the sudden and extremely rapid increase of the Arab population in the 1920’s and 1930’s in this barely populated backwater region (this was the highest population increase rate in the world in 1931/2) was only in part due to immigration spurred by Zionist development of the land. The major share of the massive Arab population increase was thanks to Malaria eradication, which was the work of the Galician born famed microbiologist and ardent Zionist Dr. Israel Kligler (credit to the great historical work of Anton Alexander). With this knowledge it remains even a greater tragedy that the now much more numerous Arabs of the land directed their efforts towards brutally fighting Zionism rather than choosing to live side by side with an emerging Jewish state. In the shadow of the Oct 7 massacre we mark once more the Nov 29 moment when the Jews said yes to the UNGA plan of partition (having prioritized having a state, even if tiny and mostly desert and lands reclaimed from malaria and no Zion and no Judea) and the Arabs said no and proceeded to wage a brutal war to the present day (having prioritized - still - the goal of the Jews not having a state at all and of any size).

(Note on map titles: for twenty centuries, before a campaign of denial was underway, it was well understood that the name “Palestine” merely denoted the geographic region where the Land of Israel was and was therefore deeply associated with Jews and the their continuous connection to the land. Hence the League of Nation in establishing the mandate recognized the “historical connection of the Jewish people with Palestine" as the "grounds for reconstituting their national home in that country” and which is why the Palestine Philharmonic Orchestra of Jewish musicians became the Israeli Philharmonic Orchestra…)

Dr. Einat Wilf

[yandere-dump]

Botched One Night Stand Yandere

Trigger Warnings - gore, violence, noncon/dubcon (they’re both really drunk/under the influence initially and there’s implications at the end), forced marriage, explicit sex scenes, there are cuss words (these warnings are for the work as a whole, like all the parts, so even tho this first part is mostly sfw I feel like I gotta tell u what ur getting into)

A/N: Sorry if this is horrendously formatted. This is my first post so tell me if I am doing smth wrong. Plz be nice abt it tho cuz fr I'm sensitive. Criticism is very welcome just please do a little compliment sandwich thnx

Usurper Yandere x Powerless Prince

Qing Simei woke up first, slowly sitting up in bed to avoid exacerbating his absolutely awful hangover. The pounding in his skull fucking hurt, and the sunlight streaming in from the window wasn’t doing him any favors. He did a big stretch, savoring the lovely release of tension from his back, before groggily rubbing at his eyes. Had he woken up late? The windows by his bed were all west-facing, so the direct sunlight to the face was somewhat unusual.

He turned to his left only to find an unfamiliar wall and—who was that? Mussed hair, kissable lips, and a massive amount of hickeys polka-dotting the man’s neck and shoulders. His eyes followed the path of soft, silky black hair as it flowed over the man’s chest and under the blanket where he could see the trail of hickeys continue underneath it all. Holy fuck he chewed this man up. What was he, an animal? His face was already burning in embarrassment at the sight. It only got worse as memories of the previous night began to resurface. Hot, sticky and lurid scenes from only hours before floated to the forefront as he tried to think of literally anything other than the handsome reminder of his mistake sleeping next to him.

He practically jumped out of his skin as the man groaned sleepily and proceeded to wrap those deliciously muscled arms around his waist. “Go back to sleep, sweet thing,” the man purred, causing Simei’s heart to leap into his throat. The lazy kisses on his stomach weren’t helping either, further distracting him from the pressing issue at hand. He prodded at the arm around his waist, “I need to go,” he muttered aloud. The man’s eyes snapped open. “You’re running off?” he said with an accusatory glare, grip tightening on his midsection.

“I’ll be back,” he searched for some kind of excuse, “I just want to wash up, I promise.” There was a pause, but the other seemed to believe him and let him slip out of his constricting hold.

He escaped from the curtained bed and feigned a relaxed walk towards the partition that hid the washbasin. Thankfully, he found his dark brown puddle of clothing behind the folding screen where he’d been bent over before they’d even made it to the bed. He hurriedly dressed himself, putting on his outer layers and belt before frantically tying up his hair so he wouldn’t look like a mess. Well, any more like a mess than he already did. If he had time he should at least check in the mirror for any visible hickeys. He quickly put on his shoes so he could take a sneaky glance back over the partition to gauge if the other man had caught on yet. He peeked over the thing, only to make direct eye contact with the other man who could probably only see the top of his head from their spot on the bed. That was enough, however, as his plans to flee were given away by the hastily placed hairpiece atop his haphazardly tied up hair. He froze, caught in the act. All those beautiful muscles tensed, and something primal in him instinctively knew he had to run. Just as the man lunged, he broke eye contact to clumsily scramble out the window.

He landed with a thud, the almost collision giving a poor vendor a terrible fright as he narrowly avoided skewering himself on sticks of candied fruit. Throwing out a half-baked apology, he saw his pursuer in his peripheral vision and bolted like a frightened deer. He ran as fast as he could, hoping to lose him within the sprawling streets of the capital. After taking a couple shortcuts through the winding streets, he made it to the palace walls. He scaled the wall with help from the great peach tree that grew inside, the pink petals raining down as his weight made the branches shake. He climbed down from the boughs just as one of the guards came around the corner.

“You!” the armed guard rushed over, “You’re in so much trouble, young man!” The older man dragged him along towards the emperor’s quarters. “Slinking about is unbefitting of a prince!” he scolded, “His Majesty had us searching the palace grounds all morning for your lousy ass!”

“Sorry, things, uh, kind of got out of hand,” Qing Simei responded sheepishly, “the plan was to be back by dawn.”

“Stick to the plan next time, wouldja? You nearly got my ass beat and the Crown Prince is already on edge with whatever shit the nobles got going on.”

He let go of his arm once the two of them reached the emperor’s chambers. A eunuch announced the arrival of the younger prince, who bowed low before greeting his father and brother. He kept his gaze riveted to the floor, fighting the wave of embarrassment that threatened to drown him. The soft clink of teacups being put down and the rustling of cloth were the only noises in the room.

“You may rise,” the emperor remarked, “Skulking about is unbecoming. Only a guilty man sneaks around like a rat.”

“Forgive me father,” he dropped to his knees, “I was careless. I should’ve acquired permission before leaving the palace.” His brother leveled a stern look at him.

“What was it that you were doing to warrant such secrecy?”

“I went out drinking…” an arched eyebrow implicitly asked him why he didn’t raid the palace’s wine store, “in a gambling den in the city.”

His father sighed, “Don't let the ruckus you caused today happen again,” but the disappointment in his tone was laced with something lighter. He gestured for them to leave the room, probably so he could have some time for himself since his morning was upturned by this fiasco.

The Crown Prince smoothly rose to his feet, “I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

Qing Simei scrambled to his feet, having to take a second since the ground seemed to lurch beneath him for a moment. He hopped over the threshold and trotted after his brother, who was already making his way down the path with his hands clasped behind his back. “Sorry for worrying you and father,” he said sheepishly.

“At least tell me next time you decide to pull a stunt like this,” his older brother responded, “if I knew who you were with, this wouldn’t have happened. We were about to issue a citywide lockdown.”

“Are you saying you’d cover for me?” he gave the other an odd look.

“I’m not promising anything, but there are many who might seek to use you,” he pinched the younger’s cheek, “and if you did do something stupid, it’d be too late for us to bail you out of trouble.”

“Augh, I cut it out!” he grumbled, “I get it, I get it! I should’ve known better!” When he was released, he rubbed at his now pinker cheek and pouted. The Crown Prince coughed loudly in a poorly disguised attempt to hide his snort. He was about to retort when something in the corner of his eye made him freeze in his tracks. Hot mystery morning man was here, in the palace. He stood in the sunny courtyard, dressed in a glorious deep burgundy, and cutting a formidable figure with his stern expression. His sibling noticed his ogling, quirking an eyebrow and slowing down slightly so as to not leave him behind. Oh shit, he was being super obvious about it, wasn’t he? Ducking his head and hoping that the shadow of the shaded walkway would hide him, he sidled up to his brother.

“Who’s that in the red?” the other turned to look and he quickly covered his face hissing, “Don't tip him off!”

The Crown Prince rolled his eyes, “You’re the one kicking up a fuss. Are you talking about the one in the maroon with the black belt?”

“Yes that one!”

“Tong Xinjia?”

“Tong Xinjia? Shit!”

“How do you know him?” his brother’s eyes narrowed, his expression shuttering closed, “You’ve never taken an interest in politics before.���

“Uh, I was just curious,” he trailed off as he saw his brother’s dubious expression, “you’re not buying that are you?”

He briefly considered lying, but knew his brother would see through him immediately and assume that he and his mother’s family were looking to vie for the throne. “Okay, fine! I bumped into him at the gambling den, but I didn’t realize he was someone important!”

“You just happened to encounter them?” He wasn’t in the clear yet.

“He was pretty, okay? I didn’t know who he was! I’m never at Court meetings anyway so how was I supposed to know? You know I’m a sucker for a pretty face!” he explained, hiding the tinge of fear behind overblown exasperation.

“Well, avoid him in the future. His family is the head of the opposing faction and we can’t afford to have you be deceived by pretty lies,” his brother’s expression opened up again, and he could tell the wall had come down. He gave him a pat on the shoulder, stating, “I’ll find you a proper gambling buddy.”

“Oh no it’s fine—” he received a pointed look and deflated, “yeah, I suppose it would be a shame to let all your hard work go to waste.” It was no use fighting his brother on these matters anyway.

By then the two of them had arrived at his end of the palace compound. Hopefully they would part ways here and they could leave it at that.

“Good. Let’s get you some soup for your hangover as well.” Rather than leaving, the Crown prince proceeded to enter and began ordering around Simei’s servants.

“Oh no you really don’t have to…” he trailed off, futilely standing in the doorway, kind of hoping his brother would get the idea and leave.

The man in question was not picking up on the cues, perhaps purposely so. “It’s no issue, I have some time before my next meeting and it’s been a good while since we’ve talked.”

Qing Simei closed his eyes for a moment and fought the urge to sigh. Deep breaths, it’d be over soon. His brother would leave as soon as his suspicions were dispelled. He just had to humor him for a bit and then he’d get some lovely peace and quiet.

“Sit down, sit down,” the Crown Prince urged, “Have some tea while the soup is being prepared.”

Begrudgingly, he sat down beside his brother as he felt the sting of being treated like a guest in his own space.

[thailandlawyers]

Divorce in Thailand

Thailand recognizes divorce under Sections 1516-1535 of the Civil and Commercial Code, with two primary dissolution pathways:

A. Uncontested Divorce (Section 1516)

Requires mutual consent

No fault or grounds needed

Process completed in one court appearance

Typical timeframe: 1-3 months

B. Contested Divorce (Section 1518)

Must prove one of eight legal grounds:

Adultery (provable by photos/messages)

Desertion for more than one year

Criminal imprisonment for 1+ years

Physical/mental abuse

Failure to provide support

Mental illness lasting 3+ years

Separation for 3+ years (de facto divorce)

Irreconcilable differences (judge's discretion)

Note: Religious divorces (Islamic) are recognized but require court registration

2. Jurisdictional Complexities for Foreigners

A. When Thai Courts Have Jurisdiction

✔ Both spouses reside in Thailand ✔ Defendant resides in Thailand ✔ Marriage registered in Thailand

B. Strategic Forum Selection

Advantage of Thai proceedings: Faster (6-12 months vs. 2+ years in some Western countries)

Pitfall: Thai courts cannot enforce foreign asset divisions

C. International Recognition

Thai divorces recognized globally if properly legalized (apostille/MFA certification)

Exception: Some Middle Eastern countries require additional Sharia court approval

3. Property Division: Thai vs. Foreign Assets

Practical Challenges

Foreign real estate: Thai courts cannot directly partition overseas property

Business interests: Shares in Thai companies subject to FBA ownership limits post-divorce

Hidden assets: Common in cash-heavy sectors (restaurants, construction)

Forensic Solution: Court-ordered asset tracing (requires private investigators)

4. Child Custody Under Thai Law

A. Legal Standards (Sections 1521-1523)

Primary consideration: Child's best interests

Maternal preference for children under 5

Joint custody increasingly common

B. Enforcement Realities

Non-compliance penalties: THB 20,000 fine + potential jail time

International abduction risk: Thailand is not a Hague Convention signatory

C. Support Obligations

Child support: Typically 15-30% of non-custodial parent's income

Spousal support: Rare except for disabled/elderly spouses

5. Special Cases & Complex Scenarios

A. Divorce for Same-Sex Couples

Not legally recognized (as of 2024)

Alternative: Civil partnership dissolution under new 2022 law

B. Fraudulent Marriages

Annulment option if fraud proven (e.g., sham marriage for visa purposes)

Burden of proof: High (requires evidence of deception)

C. Military/Government Marriages

Additional security clearance requirements

Potential classified asset restrictions

6. Step-by-Step Divorce Process

Uncontested Divorce Timeline

Draft agreement (assets, custody, support)

File at local Amphur office (if no disputes)

Court hearing (1 session for ratification)

Finalize at District Office

Contested Divorce Timeline

File complaint at Provincial Court

Mediation attempt (mandatory)

Evidence submission phase (3-6 months)

Trial (multiple hearings)

Judgment (typically 6-18 months)

7. Post-Divorce Considerations

A. Visa Implications

Marriage visa holders: Must leave or change status within 7 days

PR applicants: Divorce resets qualification period

B. Tax Consequences

Property transfers: Subject to specific business tax (3.3%) + stamp duty

Alimony payments: Tax-deductible for payer in Thailand

C. Remarriage Restrictions

Women: 310-day waiting period (waivable by court)

Men: No restrictions

8. Expert Recommendations

For Smoother Proceedings:

✔ Draft pre/post-nuptial agreements under Thai law ✔ Maintain separate bank accounts for sin suan tua assets ✔ Document all financial transactions during marriage

For Contentious Cases:

✔ Hire forensic accountants for complex asset structures ✔ File preliminary injunctions to freeze assets ✔ Consider private mediation before litigation

9. Conclusion: Navigating Thai Divorce Realities

Thailand's divorce system blends efficiency (for uncontested cases) with complexity (for high-net-worth splits). Key takeaways:

Jurisdiction matters: Thai courts move faster but have limited overseas reach

Asset protection requires proactive planning

Child custody favors Thai residents in enforcement

[catzz089]

ok first im scared of talking to ppl so i cant just go to someone else ask box (pls my trusted adult)!! Also Amen to casual speeding doesn’t hurt unless im with my brother then we are f1 drivers (more drift but whatever) but only one of us has jail time over it (lol ny bro can get fucked cause its not me). Personal story time: my parents refused to teach me how to drive cause “look how your brother turned out” then proceeded to get MY BROTHER TO TECH ME??! like they cant be mad when my life360 say im doing 90 over. also 80K+ WORDS WOWW IM SO SO PROUD!! also can i partition for more cuddles plssss!!!! also hope your not stressed anymore!! 🩵

But late but I’m finally here!!

So real, I will NEVER go into someone’s askbox without anon if it isn’t rhynee bc their uncanny ability to start friends (and bully authors) got us here

I was sat in the back of a bently the other day and the guy kept speeding I felt SO rich

LMAOOO YOU CANT KET THE SAFETY HAZARD TEACH

Makes me think back to the time where I spent 2-3 weeks writing one 4K oneshot and thought that was the peak of my ability

Oh we had SO many cuddles in that last chapter 💞💞😍

Stress is constant, my usually pretty good skin is breaking out 💔💔💔

[mariacallous]

The Russian Federation is the product of the Soviet empire’s collapse, just as the Soviet Union was the product of imperial Russia’s collapse. Looking at the long history of empires, it’s not at all surprising that today’s Russia has embarked on a project of re-imperialization—the attempt to recreate as much of its former empire as it can. Equally unsurprisingly, Russia’s effort will fail.

The vast majority of seemingly stable empires decay over time until all that is left is the imperial center. The Byzantine and Ottoman empires are perfect examples of this dynamic: Each lost more and more territory until all that remained of the former was greater Constantinople and of the latter the lands that became Turkey. Neither rump state attempted to re-imperialize. The same was true of the European overseas colonial empires: The British withdrew from most of their possessions more or less voluntarily and without firing too many shots, whereas the Dutch, French, Portuguese, and Spanish tried harder to hang on but lost to national liberation movements. All subsequently refrained from re-imperialization.

Russia falls into a different, more volatile category of imperial decline. At the height of their power, some empires fall apart suddenly and comprehensively, usually as the result of cataclysms that rip apart the formal ties between core and periphery. Imperial Russia, Wilhelmine Germany, and the Soviet Union all met this fate. Up to the moment of sudden collapse, the structural and institutional ties between the core and periphery were still vibrant. More importantly, the imperial ideology remained alive and well after the collapse, leading to attempts by the imperial center’s elites to recreate all or parts of their former empires.

Thus, the Bolsheviks—who never concealed their desire (and supposed right) to reconquer all of the Russian Empire’s territories, which even Vladimir Lenin rejected as Russian imperial chauvinism—recreated the empire in the form of the Soviet Union, brutally snuffing out more than a dozen newly independent states who’d seized the chaos as an opportunity to escape Russia’s colonial grip. The Nazis, on the other hand, tried but failed to regain Germany’s lost lands and build an even bigger Reich.

Success or failure of re-imperialization generally depends on the balance of power among the core, periphery, and any intervening states. The Bolsheviks were militarily and economically stronger than most of their neighbors and could revive the Russian Empire. The Nazis took on too many opponents and failed. Here, post-Soviet Russia’s trajectory is highly similar to interwar Germany’s: The German collapse in 1918 and Soviet collapse in 1991 were followed in each case by economic chaos, the delegitimization of a new democracy, and the mobilization of radical forces, which in turn gave rise to a strong leader who revitalized the imperial ideology, promised to restore the empire, and proceeded to annex bits and pieces of the former empire before launching a full-scale war.

Two other empires are illustrative, even though they fit the pattern of sudden collapse and re-imperialization only imperfectly. Although Poles lacked an autonomous state after the last of three partitions in 1795, the imperial ideology of the old Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth thrived, motivating Polish elites to attempt to reestablish the commonwealth in several unsuccessful rebellions in the 1800s. As soon as Polish independence was restored after World War I, the new state set off to reconquer some of the formerly imperial Lithuanian, Belarusian, and Ukrainian territories. Enjoying the support of the Entente powers, and especially France, the Poles succeeded. Only a cataclysmic defeat by Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union finally ended Polish imperial dreams.

Austria-Hungary was torn to pieces in a catastrophic defeat but did not attempt to re-imperialize like the other cases in this category. The empire had been irreversibly decaying for half a century. The Hungarians—and later, the Czechs and Poles, assisted by the national movements of other restive nationalities—succeeded in getting Vienna to devolve authority to them to such a degree that leading Austro-Hungarian policymakers even discussed transforming the empire into a federation of semi-autonomous states. Defeat in World War I severed Vienna’s ties with its periphery, much of which immediately sought independence. Austria made no attempt to re-imperialize, as it lacked a virulent imperial ideology, powerful army, and strong economy. Its government was also in disarray. Likewise, Hungarian elites had no imperial plans, confining their ambitions to revanchism over Hungarian territories given by the Western Allies to Czechoslovakia, Romania, and the new Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes.

Russia’s career as an empire—in the forms of imperial Russia, the Soviet Union, and the Russian Federation—began in the 14th century with the relentless expansion of the Grand Duchy of Moscow, reached its totalitarian apex in the 20th century with the subjugation of Central and Eastern Europe, and went into steep decline around 1990, when the Eastern European satellite states broke free and the non-Russian Soviet republics became independent. Even in its diminished form, the Russian Federation—first quasi-democratic, then authoritarian, today fascist—is the heir to a vast internal empire, with dozens of conquered and colonized non-Russian peoples still imprisoned inside its borders.

The political scientist Rein Taagepera graphed the territorial gains and losses of past empires. Not surprisingly, the graphs resemble parabolas: Empires rise, persist, and then fall. Equally unsurprisingly, empires that manage to survive into the persistence phase generally last for centuries. Those that fall quickly usually do so after their founders enjoyed rapid military success and then die, which throws the nascent empire into crisis. Alexander the Great’s sprawling, unconsolidated realm is the classic example of this dynamic.

Some wide, some narrow, the parabolas are never smooth—not even in the seemingly stable persistence phase. Instead, they resemble the movement of the stock market: constant ups and downs that, when viewed over time, do in fact mark upward or downward trends. At times, empires can end temporarily before being revived, as was the case with Byzantium after the Fourth Crusade in 1204. It took several decades for the Byzantine emperors to regain what was left of their terrain. Imperial Russia collapsed near the end of World War I, only to be quickly revived by the Bolsheviks. In turn, the Soviet Union met its end in 1991 and has yet to be resurrected—though not for want of trying. Russian troops occupy parts of Moldova, Georgia, and, of course, Ukraine. Belarus, meanwhile, has been progressively sucked into Russia to the point that it nominally still exists but is largely bereft of sovereignty, having been reduced to a cross between a vassal state and colony.

The question facing Russians, their neighbors, and the world is whether Russian President Vladimir Putin’s realm can succeed in holding on to, and possibly expanding, the territories that it has effectively seized. Or will the Russo-Soviet empire’s remains continue on their downward trajectory until the Russian Federation itself cracks? A look at the factors that have accounted for the rise and fall of other empires will help answer this question.

Necessary conditions for re-imperialization are a powerful military, a strong economy, and an effective government. Facilitating conditions include preexisting institutional ties between the imperial core and the periphery, outside powers that are either indifferent or receptive to imperial expansion, and authoritarian rule at the core. The final push to action is an imperial ideology that spurs the desire for empire.

But consider what happens to a would-be reborn empire if the three necessary conditions are not met—even if the facilitating factors and an imperial ideology are present. If expansion is attempted without a sufficiently strong military and an economy capable of sustaining it, the result will be overreach and failure. Without an effective government, the sustained effort needed for expansion cannot be maintained. Overextension and defeat—and quite possibly regime change or state collapse—become probable.

A few examples from history will illustrate Russia’s inevitable failure to re-imperialize. Western Rome didn’t meet the three conditions, decaying and finally collapsing in the face of declining military effectiveness, an economy incapable of producing a sustainable surplus while under incessant barbarian attacks, and increasingly ineffective governance. The empire’s eastern half was distant from the main barbarian invasion routes, but there were other reasons it survived for another 1,000 years. Except for Byzantine Emperor Justinian’s reconquest of significant territories in the 6th century—territories quickly lost again after his death—the eastern empire refrained from trying to reach its old boundaries. That would have required taking on militarily stronger adversaries, including the Arabs, Seljuk Turks, Bulgars, and Rus’. No less importantly, Byzantium was continually wracked by internal power struggles and lacked an aggressive imperial ideology, preferring to see itself as the bearer of Orthodox Christianity. Byzantium therefore managed its remaining possessions and mostly refrained from overreach. As a result, its decline took many centuries.

Post-Ottoman Turkey refrained from re-imperialization because its ideology had shifted from allegiance to the empire to allegiance to the nation-state. Kemal Ataturk ethnically cleansed Asia Minor of the Greek population, but he avoided expanding Turkey’s boundaries to include Greece, focusing instead on relocating Turks from the former empire into the new country. Strong outside powers also hemmed in the new state.

The European overseas colonial powers all shared an imperial ideology as they expanded, but they abandoned it as they faced their own military and economic weaknesses following two world wars, national liberation struggles, and the international community’s growing condemnation. They didn’t all abandon their empires without a fight, but neither did they attempt to revive them.

Post-World War I Germany retained the aggressively imperial Weltmacht ideology that had motivated Emperor Wilhelm II’s expansionist policies. Despite the post-war economic collapse, the economy quickly revived after the Nazis took power in 1933. Adolf Hitler also revived the military and established a powerful government. With the necessary conditions and ideology in place, Nazi Germany unsurprisingly embarked on re-imperialization. It might have succeeded had Hitler confined his ambitions to the large swaths of Europe he controlled by 1941. After invading the Soviet Union and declaring war on the United States, however, he created a power imbalance that made defeat inevitable.

Like Nazi Germany, the Russian Federation will fail to re-imperialize. Its military is demonstrably mediocre, its economy is about as big as that of Italy or Texas, and its governance has become increasingly ineffective and unstable as elites begin to jockey for power in what they view as the rapidly approaching post-Putin era. The immediate future could be even worse, especially if the regime remains guided by the whims of a single autocrat and continues to discourage technological innovation and economic growth.

In a word, Russia’s imperial aspirations are dead, even if the Kremlin thinks otherwise. And the man who presided over their destruction is Putin. Could things have worked out differently for Russia? Could Russia have resisted the re-imperialization temptation? Given the vitality of its imperial ideology and the strength of its institutional and economic ties with the former Soviet republics and, at least until recently, the former Eastern Bloc states, the answer is probably no.

What should the West do? Since the Russian Federation’s re-imperialization project is doomed, all that anyone can realistically do is prolong or hasten the process, not stop it. Prolonging it means prolonging the misery incurred by the non-Russians targeted for re-annexation and by the Russians tasked with bringing misery to these targets. Anything that hastens re-imperialization’s inevitable end would reduce death and destruction.

Specifically, because the history of empires leads us to expect Russian imperialism’s demise, it makes sense for the West to take a page from the philosopher Karl Marx and “hasten the birth pangs of history.” Fortunately for the West, whose attention is currently taken up by the crisis in the Middle East, the United States and its allies only need to do a bit more than what they are already doing: supporting Ukraine in liberating its territories from Russian occupation by providing it with the weapons it needs—rather sooner than later. Should the West continue to slow-roll military deliveries—or even decrease them—it will only prolong an inevitable process and increase the suffering. Either way, Russian re-imperialization is destined to fail.

Since Putin has thrown all his resources and political capital at the war against Ukraine, stopping him there means stopping him and his re-imperialization project everywhere. As much as defeat will induce some in the Russian elite and general population to reconsider questions of empire, there is, alas, no reason to believe that Russia’s imperial ideology will meet a quick end. Rather, it will be long-term decay that guarantees that outcome. Russia will become a more or less normal, non-imperial nation-state only if it continues to lose territory it has occupied, and not just in Ukraine—a prospect that seems perfectly possible if Russia loses in Ukraine, the Putin regime collapses, and Georgia, Moldova, Belarus, and even some of the non-Russian peoples in the Russian Federation decide to escape the resulting chaos by retaking their occupied territories or otherwise cutting ties with Moscow. In the absence of defeat, a militarily and economically weak and misgoverned Russia will remain in thrall to the ideology and attempt, yet again, to re-imperialize—all but certainly with the same results: failure, death, and destruction.

[dissensionads]

𝑺𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆.

Welcome  to  Volner-Downe  Inc.,  where  progress  is  not  just  measured—it  is  curated.  You’re  about  to  embark  on  a  journey  toward  personal-professional  harmony,  powered  by  our  proudest  innovation:  the  Dissension  Procedure™.  This  patented,  board-approved  neurological  separation  offers  participants  the  ultimate  gift—a  life  unburdened  by  labor  or  personal  pains  better  left  at  home.  Imagine  waking  up  refreshed,  unaware  that  another  version  of  you  has  been  contributing  tirelessly  to  society’s  advancement.  No  stress.  No  guilt.  No  pesky  memories  of  filing  reports  or  sitting  through  time-inefficient  meetings.  Just  you,  at  your  best—half  the  time,  all  the  reward. We  understand  that  new  developments  can  raise  questions,  even  mild  emotional  fluctuations  ( don’t  worry—we’ve  accounted  for  those ).  Please  know  that  all  Dissension  participants  enjoy  top-tier  medical  observation,  plush  ergonomic  seating,  and  curated  social  interactions  designed  to  maintain  morale  at  industry-leading  levels.  Should  any  adjustment  period  occur—say,  a  brief  disorientation,  the  occasional  mirror  hallucination,  or  a  strong  emotional  response  to  sunshine—our  Cognitive  Reintegration  Specialists  are  fully  equipped  to  assist.  Such  incidents,  of  course,  are  exceedingly  rare,  and  often  resolved  with  herbal  tea,  light  recalibration,  or  a  brief  nap  in  our  Reflection  Pods.  We  take  pride  in  rewarding  exceptional  behavior,  whether  that’s  through  commemorative  pins,  snack  vouchers,  or  a  featured  spot  in  our  quarterly  Employee  Luminary  Ledger. We  at  Volner-Downe  believe  that  one  day,  humanity  will  see  the  Dissension  Procedure  not  just  as  a  milestone,  but  as  a  moral  obligation.  Why  suffer  from  the  weight  of  dual  responsibility  when  we  can  tidy  it  up  for  you?  The  self  is  a  luxury  that  was  never  meant  to  multitask.  So  relax.  Unclench.  Your  Outie  is  safe,  your  Innie  is  productive,  and  your  endowment  to  our  future  is  already  happening; so  we  thank  you  for  your  contribution—however  subconsciously  rendered.  Welcome  to  Volner-Downe  Inc.™:  Your  life,  organized. Please  note:  Volner-Downe  Inc.  is  not  liable  for  any  deaths,  surgical  irregularities,  loss  of  cognitive  integrity,  spontaneous  emotional  eruptions,  or  permanent  dissociative  consequences  resulting  from  participation  in  the  Dissension  Procedure™  or  any  adjacent  sub-protocols.  By  proceeding,  you  accept  all  terms  as  lovingly  implied.  Thank  you  for  your  service—even  if  you  don’t  remember  giving  it.

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒚. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚.

THE  HOUSE  OF  DISSENSION  is  a 21+  original,  psychological  horror, drama, and political  roleplay  set  in  a  retrofuturist  2028,  where  identity  has  become  a  product,  obedience  a  prescription,  and  silence  the  only  permitted  rebellion.  Inspired  by  Severance,  Succession,  The  Sims,  and  Control,  it  explores  corporate  surveillance,  manufactured  realities,  and  the  ghost-like  aftermath  of  partitioned  lives.  The  aesthetic  is  mid-century  modern  gone  sterile:  sleek  chrome,  synthetic  smiles,  and  cocktail  parties  hosted  beneath  the  glare  of  hidden  cameras.  Centered  around  profound  character  evolution,  embracing  dark  narratives,  intricate  personal  journeys,  immersive  world-building,  and  transformative  plot  developments  designed  to  challenge  your  character  and  reshape  the  very  fabric  of  their  reality. This  world  is  curated  to  the  point  of  collapse,  built  on  a  foundation  of  inherited  power,  manipulated  memory,  and  the  slow,  aching  horror  of  being  erased  while  alive.  More  information  is currently  being  declassified, pending opening date.  Until  then—remember  your  place,  repeat  your  mantras,  and  above  all  else:  we’re  happy  to  be  here.

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 & 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗩𝗘𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗔𝗩𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 !