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@silencedrage
SILENCEDRAGE ; an independent and highly selective multimuse roleplay blog featuring canon and original characters. written by arrow/30+. mutually exclusive and private ; duplicate friendly and extremely slow. will contain nsfw and triggering content and other mature themes // must be 21+ to interact and follow.
dead dove / proship / ykinmkato / whatever the youths call it these days
read this / muses doc / yj multi / hope / tvd multi / promo / memes
top 3 hobbies for young adults:
1. borrowing misery from future
2. carrying grief of the past
3. agonizing over the present
BEATRICE BRIDGERTRON asked "would i lie to you?" (@ghstlnes)
Agatha fixed the young woman with one of her trademark looks. Not a glare, not chastising, simply a raise of a single eyebrow because yes, Beatrice Bridgerton would lie to her. Surely, she would not lie about anything of real import, but members of the Ton had tried to keep their sordid secrets under lock and key since the introduction of the illustrious Lady Whistledown. Not that they were very successful. Beatrice's reputation as a rake was somewhat of an open secret in Grosvenor Square.
She let the stare linger for a few moments longer, simply to make the young Bridgerton squirm before a smile curled across her lips. Agatha remembered being her age, remembered believing she had been discreet when surely she had not. "Well, whatever it is, I am certain you are being mindful of the stress your dear mama is under this season," she said with a pointed look.
Lady Danbury had done decently well with her four children, set them up with good matches that would keep them comfortable and safe in this world. While society had largely accepted their elevation in society, there was always a fear in the back of her mind that this could crumble at any moment. The clear love that Violet had for her children was a luxury that Agatha had never fully been afforded, nor had it been common of the era. It was a treasure to witness.
Agatha looked Beatrice up and down before reaching out to straighten the young woman's collar before resting both hands atop the head of her cane. "Now, we shall take a turn around the room so you will not be accosted by mamas and their charges." She held her arm out expectantly for Beatrice to take.
'#anyways no one look at my muses doc' EVERYONE, POINT AND LAUGH
THIS IS YOUR FAULT
Agatha Danbury & Violet Bridgerton in Bridgerton & Queen Charlotte
not only does @silencedrage / @founderscouncil write beautifully, the mun behind that blog also has an amazing grasp on so many different characters with so many different voices and every post is so well thought out and very fun to read. very much blown away by the talent! <3
Happy birthday to @vrake, my twin in name, mood and soul. I am always so very grateful for your presence in my life, the steadfast loyalty you give to me, and the ability to just exist with you without pressure or stress. I wanted to grab this commission of our babies because you deserve to smile every day, but especially on your birthday. I hope you have a spectacular day and are able to enjoy yourself.
Credit goes to the inimitable @clover-fell-over, who delivered in incredible fashion. Thank you so much <3
Agatha Danbury, you are very important to me.
SEPIDEH MOAFI by Ken Medilo for Timid Magazine — March 2026
Got a commission done for Riley and I'm absolutely in love with it. I literally keep looking back at it and grinning like a fool because it's so perfect for them.
Credit to the wonderful @clover-fell-over who is fantastic and incredibly talented. Y'all should absolutely follow (especially if you like yuri).
i haven't had real muse for shaw in years and i still haven't watched a single episode of the pitt but the way my brain has lit up at the possibility of AU dr. shaw at PTMC interfacing with baran al-hashimi -- inject it into my veins
this started as a hehe haha, both of them appeared on the l word and seem to enjoy kissing women and i am a simple lesbian, but now i'm thinking about a crossover where they meet overseas and bond over their iranian heritage and dealing with different facets of the american military complex and how that affects their work
i haven't had real muse for shaw in years and i still haven't watched a single episode of the pitt but the way my brain has lit up at the possibility of AU dr. shaw at PTMC interfacing with baran al-hashimi -- inject it into my veins
@silencedrage asked:
Leaves snap under her feet, trees cracking with the force of the wind. It's bites against her cheek, and Desdemona dares it to break skin. It won't, she knows, for even the earth does not defy her. Skeleton hand wraps around a pale, cold ankle, effortlessly dragging whatever remains of Monsieur Putain through the forest floor. There are, certainly, better ways of reaching the property — But Desdemona enjoys the flavor of dramatics, and, she had to dispose the man's car.
The walk does not tire her, anyway. She basks in the bitter cold, savor the taste and scent of wet grass and damp barks. Animals are hurrying inside their nests, finding any shelter before the upcoming storm. (She always found peace in the woods. Memories of a life she holds dear, one she put behind countless walls and locks, feels less overwhelming when she has her feet touching dirt, and no sign of human life near.)
Well — All but one. Two, if she must be technical; but the boy is not alive, and Desdemona is certain he is asleep by now. (If not — Nothing a good punishment won't remedy.)
She opens the back door with enough force to make glass shake, uncaring for the trail of blood her guest is leaving behind. It is not she who cleans the floor. He is a sore sight, and Desdemona does not remember where she discarded his manhood. Somewhere between the first stabbing and the poisoning — His whines quite annoyed her, and she paid little to no attention on the way to the cliffs.
The headache was well worth it, she decides, dropping the body in front of Dahlia. A tilt of her head, eyes glinting in the dark. “Is this the man who called you a bitch?” It is, she is certain. That is why she if gifting him to Dahlia, is it not? — Why his tongue is gone.
The day has been quiet for the most part, as it often is when Desdemona leaves the cottage to accomplish her own goals. Dahlia rarely has reason to leave, one watchful eye on the boy and the other on the horizon as she waited for her better half. Desdemona did not say where she had planned to go, and Dahlia saw no reason to ask.
A pressure begins to fill the space, and some might call it oppressive, but Dahlia welcomes it like a weighted blanket. Within minutes, the back door slams open, but the witch does nothing blow lightly on the tea that she has poured for both she and Desdemona. Her companion's cup sits waiting at her seat, steam curling from the top invitingly.
The corpse that Des drags in looks worse than the last time Dahlia had laid eyes on him, but his face is unmistakable, even twisted in dread and covered in blood. "Indeed," she hums as she takes a sip of tea. Her foot reaches out to nudge at the man's cheek, the toe of her boot pressing carelessly into the cold flesh.
She does not remember why he had flung about such horrid words in her direction. Surely her minor comment of his inability to satisfy his wife couldn't have been so upsetting. After all, why else would the girl end up in their bed time and time again whenever her husband went on his distant travels? She would have to stop by to visit the newly-widowed woman soon, to give her condolences.
"Thank you for the gift. You are always so good to me," Dahlia smiles, setting down her teacup on its saucer and rising gracefully. She steps over the body lying prone on the floor. "Was he at least useful in his death?"
i started watching b-ton for ""research purposes"" and to no one's surprise, i'm most interested in the old woman yuri potential
that multi-muse feeling
Shabana Azeez and Supriya Ganesh at the Anita Dongre flagship store in Beverly Hills on 4th November 2025
a relationships that is built on obsession codependence and attachment. where the line between loyalty and destruction is blurred. when one person’s existence revolves around the other even when it hurts them both. trapping both in a cycle of obsessive need and toxic longing. No matter how much they push each other away, they always find their way back, trapped in an endless cycle of desire and control.
