#character-driven drama

[captaingimpy]

The Pitt: A compressed, dramatic, but realistic look at the vice around emergency medicine 

The Pitt is a gripping 15-hour plunge into the chaos of emergency medicine, unfolding in real time over a single shift at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital. Created by ER veteran R. Scott Gemmill and anchored by Noah Wyle’s commanding return to the genre, the series delivers a raw, unflinching look at the human cost of a broken healthcare system. 🚑 Real-Time Urgency, Real-World Stakes Each of…

[ulkaralakbarova]

Film Review: "Daddio" - Journey of Intimate Conversations and Personal Revelation

Dakota Johnson as “Girlie” in DADDIO, Photo credit: Phedon Papamichael, Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 5 out of 5. It is indeed true that some of the most poignant conversations occur as a taxi passenger. The confined space and the temporary nature of the passenger-driver relationship create a unique environment that allows the passenger to share their thoughts and emotions…

[spoke9]

EPISODE 2 | PLAYLIST – “RECAST”

1. “What’s It All About, Alfie?” – Cilla Black (instrumental) — Cold Open / Jules’ scene 2. “Glory Box” – Portishead — Scene 1: Interview prep / Alfie getting ready 3. “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” – Nina Simone — Scene 2: Rae & Sofia 4. “Doll Parts” – Hole — Scene 4: Lyla planning Nova’s campaign 5. “Motion Picture Soundtrack” – Radiohead — Scene 5: Jules’ poem flashback 6. “Bitter…

[brekker-by-brekkerr]

The potential for found family in the Avengers was something that drew me and so many others to the MCU in the early days. Those Avengers Tower fanfics where they were just hanging out were everything to younger me. But in the actual movies, we barely got close to that. There's the Shawarma bonus scene in the first Avengers movie, and we get crumbs in other places (personally I'll always be an Age of Ultron lover if only for getting to see them hanging out for a bit), but it's not a lot in comparison to the total screen time of the MCU.

And then there was Eternals. And they were actually found family. We got to sit with these characters in a way the fast pace of the Avengers movies had never allowed. We didn't have to rely on a post-credit scene to see them spending normal time together; we got to see them bantering around a kitchen table like family! We saw them at their jobs, in their normal lives. Sprite and Sersi chatting on their nighttime walk. All of the past flashbacks. So many moments where you're like yes! This is a family! Like Druig passing the box of Twinkies to Ikaris, the whole reunion scene with Druig, etc.

Sure, I would have loved to know even more about these characters, and a TV show would have given us space to flesh them and their relationships out more, but we didn't get a TV show; we got a movie. For a movie that takes place over centuries and has this huge Celestials plotline going on, I'd say they did a pretty great job introducing us to these characters and their dynamics. Also just the fact that there was still such a huge, save the world, high-stakes plot and YET. And yet we still got to take our time with these characters. We had this character-focused, philosophical, morally complex story (with the best cinematography of any MCU movie) and on top of all of that, more found family than the Avengers movies ever had.

[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 !

[quillver]

Agency is Choice

Not just rebellion, but deciding within limits:

to accept, resist, or adapt.

In historical fiction, agency means navigating boundaries with purpose,

finding quiet strength within constraint.

Writing tip:

Portray characters shaping their path not only by breaking chains,

but by choosing how to live within them.

True agency breathes complexity, not just defiance.

[reachexceedinggrasp]

The very first set photos are feeding my delusions hopes

[incandescentflower]

"Be my family" is such a wonderful way to declare/ask for commitment. It's such an adult way to confirm the status of a relationship. It makes me love Doctor Slump even more.

[rwby-confess]

Confession #473

[houseofdissension]

⸻ 𐄁 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 [ 𝑉𝐻-𝟶𝟶𝟷–𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄-𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 ]

This log was diverted from Vincent Harrow's Personnel Registry and secured under what is now known as Operation Echoroot. Access is granted solely to embedded Resistance assets with proven allegiance.

Vincent Cael Harrow—once the Lead Dissension Surgeon—has endured what should have ended him. Hunted, hollowed, and left for dead, he did not vanish. He recorded. Every fracture. Every failure. Every second he stayed breathing. Across years of ruin, he documented his descent—not to be remembered, but to understand what remained.

Now, beneath the bones of Desmond Den, he operates a surgical bunker stitched from ash and vengeance. Six experimental Reversal Procedures. Two survivors. Four bodies buried by his own hand. His mission is unflinching: to unmake the Procedure from within, to restore what was stolen, and to face the cost of remembering.

His cause grows under his leadership—quiet, loyal, dangerous. He no longer fears sacrifice. He has become it. And the repurposed machines that hum in the dark? They don't just reverse the Procedure. They prepare the reckoning.

[  𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗢𝗪 / 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗦𝗨𝗥𝗩𝗜𝗩𝗔𝗟 𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗦 / 𝗬𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗗𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡  ]

╰──   AARON PIERRE,  36,  CIS-MALE,  HE + HIM  ]  ＞  𝙾𝙱𝚂𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙴𝙳  𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙴𝚃  𝙻𝙾𝙶:  The  individual  known  informally  as  [  VINCENT CAEL HARROW  ]  has  been  noted  for  presence  within  the  Downe’s  Hollow  parameters.  According  to  behavioral  estimates,  they  present  at  approximately  [  THIRTY-SIX  ]  and  have  been  under  evaluation  for  [  FIFTEEN YEARS  ].  During  scheduled  daylight  hours,  they  are  recorded  operating  in  the  role  of  [  REVERSAL DISSENSION SURGEON  /  NON DISSENTED  ].  Community  observation  reports  suggest  notable  behavioral  markers:  prone  to  [  OBSESSIVE  ]  under  stress,  yet  reportedly  [  METICULOUS  ]  in  collective  settings.  Volner-issued  residency  placement:  [  DESMOND DEN / HIDDEN UNDERGROUND BUNKER  ].  Echo  archetypes  detected  in  personality  patterns  include:  [  Blood on steel. Eyes like surveillance: tired, unblinking, sharp. He walks through shadow with a prosthetic hiss and a surgeon’s grace. Savior, saboteur, ghost in the bunker light.  ].  𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂:  under  continued  observation.  Decompression  tolerance  uncertain.  Reintegration  probability:  TBD.  

𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗘𝗩𝗔𝗟𝗨𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡.

⸻ 𐄁 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾𝚁𝙾𝙾𝚃 / 𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙻𝙳 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼 𝟺𝟾-SECURE ARCHIVE / V. HARROW – CONTINUITY LOG This began as a whisper in a motel room. Now it's a war cry stitched in bone. We don’t ask for confessions. We ask what you’re willing to lose. Be precise. Be honest. If you remember who you are—prove it.

1.  Please  describe  the  circumstances  of  your  initial  transition  into  Downe’s  Hollow.

VIDEO LOG: VIN_C.HARROW / ENTRY 0001 / DATE: 11/11/2021 "Log one. This is the first tape since I lost everything." already there is a grief in the way he sits—shoulders sunk, spine, unspooled slightly from precision. he used to be straighter. now even his silhouette is full of sorrow. his prosthetic leg hums against the hollow floorboards with a sound that is almost shy. a ghost asking permission. outside, the storm doesn’t scream. it seeps, like rot does, like truth. he doesn't look into the lens again. not yet. instead, he studies the corner of the table like something might bloom there: something small, maybe forgiveness. "I used to log everything. Back then it was academic—case studies, procedure failures, neural graft responses... but this… this isn’t for the files. I’m answering the same questions Volner-Downe made me record fifteen years ago—back when they still pretended to care what I felt because I need to see it for myself now. Frame by frame. I need to watch what’s left of me on camera. I need to know exactly when the surgeon became the wreck." the motel walls exhale with mildew. behind him, a television flickers static on mute; a nothing-channel for a man who no longer needs stories because the worst one already happened. "They gave me purpose after my injury. I was twenty, lost my leg saving a kid who didn’t make it on tour, thought that was it for me. Then Volner-Downe stepped in, paid for my education, handed me mentors, a prosthetic that moved like memory. They revived me, sponsored my education. I owed them everything. I was so thankful and loyal to their cause because of it. Learned, then performed the procedure thousands of times over five years. Clean, perfect—until Marion Saint. I took care of her like every other patient, and what I saw—what I’d done—" his voice gives a little, as if it had taken place again right there and then. "I’ll never forget  it. I quit the next day, ignored the warnings and walked out anyway. After that, there wasn’t a transition. That implies choice. This was a fall." he speaks like each word has teeth, but no appetite. like the words themselves are trying not to scream. "They died on a Wednesday. I left on a Thursday." and that’s the closest he comes to breaking. not in the voice, not in the line but in the shift of his hand—one finger dragging, slowly, across the grain of the table. like he could rewind it. like if he touched it softly enough, time would forgive him. "I—I just packed one bag and everything else stayed behind. The fire was called an ‘incident,’ but it was retribution. Calculated and clean. The kind of tragedy you file  under insurance claim." his laugh isn’t a laugh, it’s the inhale before intense pain. strong fingers press into the tabletop of the nearly dilapidated motel like he's trying to anchor himself inside the moment—but even now, he drifts. "I ended up here somehow," &* he does not flinch when the wind outside throws something against the window. he’s already used to the sound of collapse. he’s speaking in present tense now—the way some people sleepwalk. not because they want to, but because memory insists on walking them back through every room. "I don’t know why the fuck I’m still here. Some days it feels like breathing is just inertia, like my body didn’t get the message they’re gone. I’m not living. I’m just… fucking existing." the final pause is a full breath, not relief but something that pretends to be. and when he does finally look up, the camera doesn’t just see him—it sees  through him. the places grief hollowed out, the places love used to live. "Only six days have passed and I'm bleeding here. Every step forward is a cut. I thought about joining them. Then I thought, maybe, if I walk far enough, I swear I’ll find the artery and when I do—Volner-Downe will bleed, too. Anything to put their souls at rest, then maybe I can finally be with my family again."

2.  At  the  time  of  your  arrival,  what  were  you  running  from,  or  toward?

VIDEO LOG: VIN_C.HARROW / ENTRY 0002 / DATE:  6/13/2022  "Log two. It’s been about seven months and somehow I'm still alive." his voice lands soft but steady, like it’s spent months folding itself back into a body that no longer fits right. like he had to learn how to speak again without breaking. before all this, there was nothing to hide from: just memory, loss, smoke that wouldn’t clear. &* now, by some miracle, there’s progress. now there’s hope he doesn’t trust, now there are files that matter, faces that might still be saved and that kind of weight has teeth. "So… what have I been running from since?" he doesn’t blink when he says it. just keeps staring like he’s looking into something farther than the lens. "I was running from the silence. From that fucking silence after I lost everything. Running from the smell of our house burning down like a body. From the shit I let Volner do with my hands, but I was also chasing something I couldn’t name yet. The weak spot. The place where the system buckles under its own delusion. I knew if I kept listening, eventually it’d come to me." his fingers brush a surgical cable coiled on the desk, thumb resting against copper like it might warm. behind him, the lab rig hums: alive, waiting. "I don’t know if it will be enough. I still don’t, but I’m here and I’m close. I’m not running anymore."

3.  Do  you  believe  you  chose  this  life,  or  were  chosen  for  it?

VIDEO LOG – VIN_C.HARROW / ENTRY 0193 / DATE: 10/11/2022 "Log one-nine-three. Four months since the last. I’m still in the underground bunker, safe, things are coming along nicely. The system’s holding. The rig’s holding. I’m almost ready. I’m not sleeping but it’s coming together. " the question lingers like smoke. he doesn’t speak it aloud. doesn’t need to. the words are already inside him. he’s been thinking about it for days, ever since the figure in black showed up—silent, unarmed, threaded with presence. they didn’t come like a threat. they came like permission. he hasn’t asked their name. not yet. maybe he’s afraid he’ll know it. maybe it’s better if he doesn’t. "Did I choose this? No. I chose out. I chose to stop cutting people open so a corporation could bury their pain deeper and call it mercy. I chose to leave. I chose to grieve, but that choice cost me every name I ever prayed for and after that—I don’t think anything I’ve done was really mine. Anguish makes architects out of people. Makes blueprints out of blood." there are six monitors to his left, all running simulations. the latest reversal prototype stabilizes at 68%. better than last week. not good enough. not yet. the figure visits sometimes. leaves no name, no trail. but each time they speak, they speak in we. he doesn’t know who we is. but part of him wants to believe in it. "I think the moment I saw Marion Saint dying on my table—I stopped being a man. I became a response. A scar reacting to pressure. This isn't the way I thought it would be, but I'm choosing to go forward with the offer."

4.  When  you  envision  the  person  you  used  to  be,  what  part  of  them  still  lingers  in  the  current  design?

VIDEO LOG – VIN_C.HARROW / ENTRY 0271 / DATE: 06/11/2023 "Log two-seven-one. One year, six months since I vanished. Eight months since I stopped being alone." the question comes soft. but it bites. he lets the silence stretch for five seconds, maybe more, like he’s waiting to be interrupted by the man he used to be. no voice answers. "I used to be methodical. Precise. People said it like it was a compliment. Like I was a surgeon made of focus. Truth is, I was scared of fucking it up, of failing someone again. So I over-corrected. I clung to order like it could resurrect the dead and I guess… that part’s still here. The part that counts backward from five before touching anything, that memorizes every set of eyes in a room before speaking, or that rechecks every equation even when I know it’s right. What lingers is the part that wants to control what’s already gone." he looks past the camera now, toward the second cot. toward the three dossiers pinned like nervous systems to the wall: a field engineer, a codebreaker, and a former innie. each one found him because someone whispered his code. each one stayed because he didn’t lie about the cost. "But that’s not all. There’s still a part of me���small, buried—that wanted to fix people because I believed they were worth fixing. Not just systems, or minds. People. And I don’t know what that makes me now. Maybe naïve or dangerous. I don’t trust it but it’s still there. Still looking for something to stitch together. Even if it’s only what's left of me. Even if it's just in their memory."

5.  In  your  current  state  of  clarity,  how  would  you  describe  your  belief  in  the  Dissension  Procedure?

FINAL VIDEO LOG – VIN_C.HARROW / ENTRY 0394 / DATE: 06/11/2025 "Log three-nine-four. Been a long time. Too long. No apologies. Been busy making gods bleed." he doesn’t look worn out anymore. not like before. exhaustion’s turned into structure. he’s efficient now. focused. grief turned artifact. sharpened. the reversal has been performed six times. four bodies buried in silence. two still with him—broken, trembling, beautiful in their fight to stay real. he spends hours guiding them through the blur, stitching memories back together like shattered teeth. "Belief isn’t the right word for me anymore. It gives the Procedure too much grace, too much myth. The Dissension Procedure isn’t an ideology. It’s an engine; a weaponized lobotomy that pretends to be salvation. What it does to the brain—what it does to self—it doesn’t erase pain. It multiplies it, turns people into storage units for suffering they’re not allowed to understand." a screen flickers behind him—one of the survivors moaning softly through overlapping speech. they call him multiple things. they see multiple rooms. they cry for a mother who never existed. he watches it all. not detached. disciplined. "I don’t believe in the Procedure. I study it. I map it. I dismantle it inch by inch, like a tumor with a thousand roots. They called it progress. They sold it as mercy. What it is—what it’s always been—is rupture. Artificial amputation of consciousness and i’m here to undo it. No matter how many times it kills the people I’m trying to save and the ones who are trying to help me save them, including my own. This suffering will end."

⸻ 𐄁 𝚂𝚄𝙱𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙻𝙳 𝙻𝙾𝙶 / 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚆–𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃

You were not born to be partitioned. You were not made to forget your name.

This world—this corporate monument to obedience—tried to carve you clean, to strip you of memory, choice, pain. But pain is not failure. Memory is not flaw. What they fear in you is the very thing that survives.

I do not lead for glory. I lead because no one else would cut the artery. I will tear down every floor, every protocol, every lie stitched into your skull. Not for vengeance. For reclamation.

You are not broken. You were broken open. And now, you are a signal.

Meet me where the silence cracks. 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝙴𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚝 will now commence. We are the cure they never meant to create. We are the Reversal.

[captaingimpy]

Review: CBS’s Watson (2025) – A Familiar Framework That Finds Its Own Voice

CBS’s Watson repositions the classic world of Sherlock Holmes by centering the story around Dr. John Watson, played with grounded intensity by Morris Chestnut. Set six months after Sherlock’s presumed death at the hands of Moriarty, the show follows Watson as he steps out of his former partner’s shadow and heads up a clinic in Pittsburgh that specializes in rare disorders. Medical Drama Meets…

[msperfectsheep-posts]

non i7 mutuals this is your sign to watch IDOLiSH7. please 🥺🥺🥺

[sodafrizzocs]

Hell made him a monster. She made him a father.

HELLBOUND

A game about found family, violent pasts, and the hope that even the damned can change.

[dissensionads]

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆.

In  Downe’s  Hollow,  nothing  bleeds.  The  lawns  are  trimmed  to  quiet  perfection,  white  fences  curve  like  compliant  spines,  and  the  people—smiling,  waving,  eternally  composed—live  as  though  grief  was  never  invented.  But  behind  every  manicured  hedge  is  a  story  too  symmetrical  to  be  true.  Many  residents  are  married  to  those  who  vanish  into  the  tower  each  morning  and  return  hollow-eyed  or  not  at  all.  Children  grow  up  speaking  of  “work”  like  it’s  a  myth,  their  understanding  of  parenthood  split  into  absence  and  silence.  Some  lost  mothers  to  the  Procedure.  Others  lost  fathers  to  protest—spirited  away  in  the  night,  their  names  struck  from  records,  their  mail  returned  unopened.  There  are  still  wreaths  on  doors  no  one  enters  anymore. Beyond  the  perimeter  of  Long  Island,  the  rupture  spreads  like  hairline  cracks  through  porcelain.  Entire  countries  whisper  of  Volner-Downe  Inc.  like  it’s  a  new  religion—half  salvation,  half  contagion.  In  the  broader  United  States,  families,  lawmakers,  and  ethicists  tear  each  other  apart  in  courtrooms  and  comment  threads.  Some  states  hail  Dissension  as  an  economic  marvel,  pushing  for  nationwide  standardization—one  chip  for  every  worker,  one  clean  line  between  identity  and  output.  Others  call  it  a  quiet  war  on  consciousness,  a  chemical  leash  disguised  as  choice.  Fifty  states.  Fifty  fractures.  In  coffee  shops  and  campus  halls,  strangers  mutter  about  “the  illusion  of  consent,”  while  elsewhere,  glossy  pamphlets  show  grinning  Outies  brunching  beneath  words  like  liberation  and  balance. There  are  those  who  say  it  saved  their  marriage.  Those  who  claim  it  destroyed  their  children.  Some  whisper  that  the  Procedure  is  less  about  workplace  happiness  and  more  about  compliance  at  scale—a  new  infrastructure  for  making  citizens  forget  how  to  rebel.  Whistleblowers  describe  erased  lovers,  dreamless  nights,  husbands and wives  returning  without  warmth.  Others  praise  the  system  as  the  end  of  burnout,  depression,  and  dead-end  despair.  Why  suffer  through  a  job  you  hate,  they  ask,  when  you  could  simply  not  remember  it?  And  so  the  country  divides—not  by  geography,  but  by  belief:  between  those  who  fear  becoming  a  stranger  to  themselves,  and  those  who  already  are. Back  in  the  Hollow,  the  quiet  persists.  You  cannot  hear  a  nation  tearing  itself  apart  over  the  low  buzz  of  sprinkler  systems  and  evening  radio.  Children  draw  pictures  of  their  missing  parents  and  are  told  to  color  within  the  lines.  No  one  protests  anymore.  Not  because  they’re  content—but  because  the  ones  who  did  are  no  longer  here  to  remind  them  how.

𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌.

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 !

[quillver]

I don’t really write Anne as someone who wants to be understood.

She wants to be in control of how she’s seen, and what’s never seen at all.

That instinct is part historical, part adaptation, part mine.

Historically, Anne Boleyn was extraordinarily deliberate in how she shaped her image. She knew how to hold attention - with charm, wit, education - but always with intention. Her rise depended on it. Her downfall was shaped, in part, by how that intention was misread. Even in her final hours, she controlled how she went to her death. She couldn’t control the story, but she understood how it would be seen.

The version in The Tudors is more emotionally open, more reactive - and that’s not wrong. There’s real power in how Natalie Dormer plays Anne as someone who wants to be loved, and seen clearly, especially by Henry. But even there, you can feel her pulling back. The silences become heavier. Her stillness feels rehearsed. You can watch her begin to close the door, one look at a time.

My Anne, the one in A Crown of Thorns, doesn’t speak freely. Even when she’s under pressure - furious, grieving - there’s distance in how she shows it. She doesn’t want to be deciphered. But she does want to be read; correctly, deliberately, and on her terms. It’s not about deceit. It’s about survival. When everything else starts slipping - power, influence, safety — the last thing she can control is the lens.

Writing her means staying with that tension. What she feels versus what she reveals. What she could say versus what she chooses not to. What truths she keeps behind her spine, or her ink, or the moment she doesn’t answer.

That contradiction - between silence and self-definition - is what makes her hard to write.

And it’s exactly what keeps me writing her.

[soratatakano]

A Fire That Can't Burn Out

“You know, you still drive me crazy. I’m starting to think you enjoy it,” he said slightly amused.

You were sure he could hear your uneven breaths, no matter how hard you tried to mask them.

“Maybe just a little.”

“Part of why I wanted to keep you here is because I know you love diving headfirst into trouble. It’s driving me insane not being there to stop you.”

Damn, that's too much.

“Promise me you’ll start treating me differently, and I’ll stop.”

“No. This is better. I don’t want you to lose that fire, even if it gets under my skin.”

Trust isn’t built overnight.

You don’t even know if this is trust—just something close enough to keep you both from turning your backs on each other. Whatever it is, it’s there. A dangerous, unspoken understanding.

Silco can’t stop you.

He knows that.

He just wants to be the one keeping you in check.