Violetmood - Blog Posts

Felix shifts slightly in the hospital bed, wincing as pain tugs at his ribs. His eyes flicker up to Cassia, then down just as quickly, like he’s not sure where to look. The bruises and cuts along his cheekbone are darkening, and his arm is strapped tight in a sling. He wets his lips, swallowing before he speaks.

"Hey," he says, voice rough, like he hasn’t used it much. His fingers twitch against the blanket. "Didn’t think you’d—uh… that you’d come when they told me they called you." He glances at her again, then away, like holding her gaze for too long might make something crack open. There’s a hesitation in the way his good hand shifts, like he almost wants to reach for her but thinks better of it. Instead, he just exhales softly.

"Sorry they called you." He pauses. "But… I’m glad you’re here."

- open to: m / f / nb (mutuals and non-mutuals) - muse: cassia crocetti, mid-late twenties, dance instructor. firecracker, outgoing, but can be hot-headed. very loyal and soft. - based on this prompt. feel free to dm me if you'd like to plot !!

"no, here's what you don't understand — " her voice is shrill, full of emotion. cassia has never been one to hold back, especially in a situation like this. "i don't care if the fucking pope is back there. i got a call saying they were hurt, that it was an emergency, and i'm here now, so what's the hold up?!" cassia makes a mental note to apologize later. it's not the nurse's fault that there's security and cassia doesn't have any patience. truthfully, her heart is racing. she's not sure what to expect. would they be bloodied and bruised? unconscious? the phone call was vague. her anxiety is the real reason she's being so ruthless. the guard finally ushers cassia to follow him. clad in leggings with an oversized hoodie, hair in a messy bun atop her head, she cautiously follows. he knocks at the door. "you have a visitor," the guard saunters off and cassia steps into the room, eyes glued to the hospital bed. "hey... they, um... they called me."

Astrid stared at the door, from the couch. Waiting to see if her visitor would disappear. The knocks sent a dull thud through her skull, each one landing like an unwelcome heartbeat. She knew it was Roman.

Of course, it was Roman. No one else cared enough to physically come to her apartment to check on her.

She hadn't meant to disappear—not really. But the weight of everything had settled in thick, pressing her into the couch, into the mattress, into the silence. Days blurred. Maybe weeks. She couldn't remember the last time she responded to a text.

Another set of knocks. His voice, firm but not unkind. Her fingers curled tight around the edge of a blanket she hadn't realized she dragged from the couch as she made her way over to the door, still not opening it.

Her throat was dry. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked. “what do you want?”

- open to: f / nb (mutuals and non-mutuals) - muse: roman serrano, mid-late twenties, twitch streamer who's just gotten pretty popular, lover boy, golden retriever type of guy. - based on this prompt. feel free to dm me if you'd like to plot !!

knuckles wrapped at his neighbor's door. it's out of the ordinary for roman to have the confidence to go to someone's door unannounced. he's always been the type to shoot a text when he's on his way and usually expected his guests to do the same. he was a private guy. roman couldn't help but worry, though, when his neighbor seemed to stop coming around. he hadn't even seen them at the mailboxes or in passing aside from once or twice and they didn't look good. while he used to hear laughter, talking, and more than one voice. he can only assume that there's been some sort of break up. he hates to think the worst, that the other person is dead, but he hasn't ruled it out. roman sighs and slides down the wall beside their door, sitting down. another three knocks. "i don't care what you look like or if there's cups all over the apartment -- can you just open the door?"