м у ѕ т ι ƒ ι є ᴅ

Juliet Simms | Twenty-Nine | Dreamer Part-time gypsy. Lover & spiritualist. Florida native, California resident. Former vocalist for Automatic Loveletter. Secretly a snake in disguise. |tracking blxckinkrevenge| / R O L E P L A Y / This is a work of fiction. I am not in any way, shape, or form Juliet Simms, nor am I affiliated with her.

[blxckinkrevenge]

“Ah’m fine,” he says.

[soundertunes]

Visit Original Link

[ofbloodandarmani-blog]

[ofbloodandarmani-blog]

The knock at his door had woken him with a start. Anxious fingers ran through his black, cropped locks and colbalt darted over to the clock: 1:06AM. Who could been there at that time of night? He hadn’t been expecting anyone. Or had he? With a throaty groan, he lifted from the couch, fists reaching up to to rub his bloodshot eyes. Fatigued legs led him to the door in merely seconds; expert fingers unlocking the door and pulling it open partially. Levi looked the crack, a gently gasp escaping him - eyes wide at the vision on the other side of the threshold. If he hadn’t been completely sober, he would have thought he’d been imagining things. The dealer ripped the door open, sending it knocking loudly against the wall. Slack jawed, he spoke softly, his voicing shaking with each syllable.

        “J-Juliet?”

[blxckinkrevenge]

The moment she heard the door click, instinct told her to run. Instinct told her to run, emotion kept her grounded. She was frozen where she stood, clutching the small gift box at her side so tightly she started to worry that she might crush it. A stream of profanities circled her head as the door swung open, her heart nearly lurching from her chest as soon as she saw him.

By the look on her face, one might have thought it was Levi that had paid her a surprise visit in the middle of the night.

What did you say? How did you explain to someone why you were on their porch at 1AM on Christmas when the last interaction you’d had with them in two years had been anything but pleasant? She could hardly explain it to herself. Swallowing thickly, peridot transfixed on him like a doe in headlights.

          “In the flesh...”

[blxckinkrevenge]

God, what was she doing here?

There was a moment’s hesitation where Juliet had almost considered turning away before she knocked. But she hadn’t. And now here she was, for better or for worse, tugging anxiously at the hem of her dress. Anything to occupy her hands and keep them from shaking.

     “Fuck, what am I doing?”

                        { @ofbloodandarmani }

[angstmemes]

worried starters

trigger warnings apply! ( mental illness, drugs and alcohol use, self-destructive behaviours, and vomiting )

“You haven’t slept for days, have you?” “Are you eating properly? You don’t look it.” “Why do you keep stumbling over your words? Just how tired are you?” “You need to think about yourself every once in a while.” “I know your work is important, but you’re going to end up in hospital if you go on like this!” “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” “You look so… empty. I’m worried for you, please talk to me.” “Are you alright in there? You’re so quiet.” “How did you get these bruises? Please don’t lie to me.” “There’s something bothering you that you’re not telling me and I can see it slowly destroying you. What happened?” “You’re sleep deprived and you haven’t been eating. Why do you think you’re feeling dizzy?” “I can give you some pills to help you sleep. They aren’t healthy, but this is even less healthy.” “If you didn’t just blink I would’ve sworn you were dead, that’s how sickly you’re looking. Go to bed, please!” “Have you drank all of these bottles in one weekend?!” “I know you don’t want this, but it’s for your own good. Sign the papers so they can pick you up tomorrow and you can get clean.” “What the hell are you doing?! Did you do that to yourself?!” “When was the last time you left the house? Or opened the curtains for that matter.” “Here, just keep breathing. It’ll be okay. Better out than in…” “This can’t go on like this! You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, you barely talk!” “I’m sorry. I went through your room and found this. Explain what the hell this is doing in your room!” “I thought you’d quit! How long have you been lying to me?” “I’m only trying to help and right now I think I have a much better idea of what you need than you do.” “Did you take anything? Why are you passing out? Hey! Stay with me!”

[ofbloodandarmani-blog]

The bartender had been tapping and calling out to the drunken male for at least 10 minutes to no avail. If he’d made any sudden movements, there would be a huge cleanup to be had. Sweat beaded across his pallid flesh, the red velvet of his Santa suit sticking to it. His gloved fingers trembled. Levi was a mess - inwardly and for the first time in a long time, outwardly, too. Pull yourself together, Leviathan. Ya look like fuckin’ joker. He mused, lifting his head only slightly. But before he could even attempt to gain his composure, a tap on his shoulder and a sweet, familiar voice interjected. Hey, dude, you okay? The dealer was sweating even more profusely now, and his hands began to shake violently. Apparently he wasn’t as incognito as he’d thought. His head lifted slowly from the bartop, completely unaware that his false beard was hanging halfway off of his chin. His heart began to rattle his chest. Azure hues quickly met her glistening peridot pair; a huge drunken grin gracing his face.

        “Helllooooo, beautiful.

[blxckinkrevenge]

The longer the pause between her question and a response became, the more worry started to surface on her face. Peridot eyes shifted from the back of Drunk Santa’s sleeping -- dead? -- head to the bartender, who simply offered a mirrored stare of concern in response. “He was awake and talking all of about ten minutes ago,” he muttered as both pairs of eyes returned to him now.

Was he dead?

Wait, no -- were his fingers moving? They were. A lot. “Thank God.” The words doubled as a sigh of relief, a hand resting on her forehead for a moment. She was almost convinced that things were about to take a grim turn. “Hey, you alri--” Cutting her question short was the pair off all-too-familiar glossy, cobalt eyes that stared back at her. Had she been second guessing and passing this off as a case of mistaken identity, the Southern drawl -- thick even through his muddled slurring -- assured her that this was, in fact, who she thought it was.

“You,” she hissed.

It was all she could manage initially, before fury crept up the back of her throat in the form of bile, the acidic taste that spread over the back of her tongue enough to have her forcing back a gag. Now, it was her hands that shook. The smile wasn’t mirrored, in fact, her face held the opposite. Already, she could see the bartender scrambling to find something to occupy himself with at the other end of the bar. Far, far away from the storm that was brewing.

Without so much as a second thought her hand swiped out, latching around his bicep to all-but drag him off of his bar stool and as far away from the sea of charity goers as possible. The possibility of a manslaughter wasn’t exactly in the spirit of things. As soon as they reached pseudo-privacy, she released his arm, tossing it away from her, voice hushed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

[blxckinkrevenge]

I owe:

ofbloodandarmani: 1 therighttohxte: 1

[therighttohxte-blog]

As soon as the pain settled in his head, it was enough to wake him.

It was like someone cracked him in the skull with a hammer, the way

it caused his eyes to snap open in the midst of whatever dream he may

have been having – he didn’t remember. Nausea churned in the pit of

his stomach, but that wasn’t unsettling for Gage, who was accustomed

to hangovers by now. It was rare that he didn’t wake up feeling like this.

Not so rare, however, was waking up with no idea where the hell he was.

His eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t move or shift. He simply let his eyes

dart around, taking everything in. A hotel room. Suddenly the wait of

the mattress shifted, causing Gage’s stomach to turn with a completely

new sense of dread.

          Classy, Gage…

What did he do last night? Who was resting beside him? The breeze along

his spine told him exactly what he did, but that was one question answered

out of the hundreds. His mind flickered briefly to Harley, who he

didn’t even remember saying good bye to. Gage’s last memory was

stumbling around outside the venue with a few band mates, as well

as some of the other bands on the tour. They were climbing around

and rough-housing last he recalled, and now he was here.

Moment of truth. With a small sigh through his nose, Gage held the

palm of his hand to his forehead and turned to look at the person beside

him. If every emotion in his arsenal had an outlet to manifest itself, it

would have, but the mixture left him stunned instead. Of all people.

Every person in the world, and this was who he ended up sharing a

drunken night with?

     “What the hell…”

Gage and Juliet split five months ago when he was arrested, shortly

after announcing plans to marry the following year. He disappeared without

a trace and when he and Harley returned to America, they each opted to sever

old ties to keep from being caught. Unfortunately, this measure hadn’t managed

to block out everyone. When they came face-to-face on tour, explosive couldn’t

even begin to describe their brief interaction. And every interaction after that seemed

to be the same, so what changed? If Gage wasn’t close to throwing up before,

he was now. He was too dizzy to stand – and maybe too embarrassed now – but

if he could have, he’d have made a B-line for the bathroom. 

It wasn’t just a disgust that stemmed from being with Juliet. Once upon a time, he’d

been madly – obsessively – in love with her. That was why. He couldn’t allow

those feelings to return. He couldn’t afford them. Juliet couldn’t afford them.

Gage got through the tour pushing her away, playing his antics off as simply

becoming that douchebag rockstar type, but now he’d just ruined everything.

He’d shattered his own walls. 

Or rather – the bottle of Jack Daniels did.

Once Gage found it in himself to break free of the covers to find his clothes and

get dressed (a chore in itself considering the state of their hotel room), he sat down at

the edge of the bed, raking his fingers through his hair. As he looked over their hotel room,

he wondered not only how he’d decided he was going to pay for it, but how two people

could make such a mess in just a few hours. Wrappers, beer cans, more bottles of alcohol.

There was a spot on the nightstand where Gage’s vices were very clear.

Rule one: Never mix alcohol and drugs. Why was it so hard to remember that rule?

     “Well, I’d say this is sufficiently awkward, isn’t it?”

Despite sounding facetious and a little light-hearded, even , his jaw was tense. 

His whole body was tense, but he couldn’t tell if that was because of the situation

or because he was trying to hold back vomit. The back of his throat burned, and he

could still taste the whiskey lacing his breath. The slight disorientation that had him

stumbling around the room while searching for his clothes assured him he was still

slightly drunk.

     “We won’t speak of it.”

[blxckinkrevenge]

What the hell...

Well, if that didn’t catch her attention. Immediately -- and regretfully, as she found herself having to hold back vomit from the sudden movement -- Juliet’s head snapped to the side. If there were ever a definition of ‘crazy eyes’ in the dictionary, it was likely that a picture of her expression in that very moment would have been pasted right next to it.

“Oh, fuck me. You’re kidding me. This is a fucking joke, right?”

Like daggers, her gaze pierced into him, the nausea that had been creeping up on her coming in full-force now. Repulsion wasn’t the only culprit in this toxic cocktail of sickening emotions. Hurt, confusion.

L o v e.

Once upon a time, Juliet and Gage had been almost picture-perfect. Sweet nothings and warm kisses were shared between crass humor, nights spent drinking together, and an innate ability to have a hell of a good time no matter what they were doing. They were best friends as much as they were lovers, completely head-over-heels and inseparable. And then just like that, he had disappeared without offering so much as a goodbye. For months, she had thought he was dead. The many conversations that she and Harley had prior shared on the topic were still crisp even in her hazy mind. Gage loved her like he’d never loved in his life. So w h y?

    Harley...         Fuck, what was he going to say about this?

She was drawn -- yanked, rather -- from her thoughts by the sound of his voice. It grated on her already worn-thin nerves, further souring her face.

“Yeah, it’s fuckin’ awkward,” she spat, now moving so quickly to find her clothing that she’d almost forgotten how hungover she was. Almost -- until she bent over to pick up her underwear and shorts. “Gage Devereaux, master of observation everyone,” she muttered, derision dripping from her lips.

While Gage was at least making an attempt at easing the growing tension of the situation, Juliet’s anger never faltered. The spent expression on her face, even as she pulled what she could find of her clothing -- somewhere in the shuffle, she’d managed to lose her bra and a sock -- back on, never changed. That was, until his remark dug its way under her skin, leaving her blood to boil. Won’t speak of it? Not that she was one to kiss and tell as it stood, but what the fuck did this look like to him?

“The fuck am I, dude? Some kind of two-cent fuckin’ STD riddled whore? Are you really that ashamed?” As she spoke, her arms waved about, hands clapping against her thighs as they dropped to her sides.

Maybe she was overreacting, if only slightly, but Gage was pouring salt in a fairly fresh wound. The only evidence that she wasn’t only speaking out of annoyance were the tears glossing over her eyes as she sat at the end of the bed to pull on her boots so that she could get out of that trashed room and away from him as quickly as possible.

“You know what?” Her eyes stayed straight ahead as she pushed herself from the bed, snatching her purse from the desk opposite from them. Briefly, however, her eyes darted toward him to lock onto his face. “This was a mistake. This was a monumental fucking mistake.” As quickly as she’d averted her gaze to him, she made a b-line toward the door, nearly tearing the doorknob off in her haste to leave the room. She was already halfway out of the door and preparing for it to slam behind her by the time she spoke again. They were the last words she wanted to speak to him, if she could manage it.

“Go fuck yourself, Gage.”

[blxckinkrevenge]

"I love you, I love you so - so fucking much and you just - you just don't see it. What the hell am I supposed to do???"

Long, categorized ask meme. [ x ] || @ofbloodandarmani;;

“I just don’t see it?”

She almost scoffed. There was a heavy, aching weight on her chest, his words digging around beneath her skin like a needle trying to find a vein. Trying and failing. With each passing second, the pain blossomed. There was a catch in her throat when she attempted to speak again, leaving her to purse her lips and shrink back into her thoughts. Tears stung at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She couldn’t exhibit that kind of weakness, not again. As a form of reminder, the newly developed bruise that Levi had left on her cheek throbbed, the dull ache making her flinch.

It brought her back to reality.

Teeth grit together, her jaw tensing as she found anything to focus on but the monster standing in front of her, begging for forgiveness like this would be the last time. Juliet knew better; they both knew better. A suffocating silence hung in the air; a pin dropping would have sounded like a gunshot. Despite her best efforts, a tear slid down her cheek, leaving behind a hazy, gray trail as her gaze landed on the bags piled by the door.

“You bastard.”

The words barely broke a whisper. Like the hands that she’d balled into fists at her side, they shook. When her head finally swung to get a good look at him, her eyes pierced into him the way that she wished she could when he put his hands on her again.

“Where the fuck do you get off acting like I’m so fucking blind to the way you feel about me? This--” There was a quick swipe of her hand to motion around her face. “--is not love. Having to live in fear of the man that would’ve sooner killed me than allow me to give birth to a life that we created together is not love.“ The words dripped like acid from her lips, burning as she spoke them. The kicker? She did love him. God, she loved him with every ounce of her being, so much that she’d given him another chance -- she’d allowed him back into her life against her better judgement. When his question finally registered with her she fell quiet again and lowered her eyes to the floor, a subtle shake of her head and a broken mutter all she could offer.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before.”

[inkaholix-deactivated20140218]

[ofbloodandarmani-blog]

I promised you that I’d hurt you…

[rentedworlds]

[ofbloodandarmani-blog]

She put on happiness like a loose dress, over pain I’ll never know. “So the peace you had-” she said, “I must confess, I’m glad to see it go.”

[alexsrpshit]

What you are saying by not reading and/or ignoring an RPers rules.

I don’t care about your triggers

I am selfish.

your preferences and needs don’t matter to me

I don’t care that you don’t ship certain things, won’t play certain things, etc.

 I am lazy.

I am not a good RP partner or friend

I do not respect you or your character.

There is never an excuse to not read someones rules. I have memory and vision issues and I make a point to re-read or communicate to my potential partners that I may not have caught everything. If you’re on mobile you can ask them to give you a link and open it in your browser.

Read. The. Rules.

[theluckydoctor-archived-deactiv]

THIS NEEDS MORE NOTES!

[surgeonofthenorth]

Put an “UNF” in my ask and I’ll answer these.

If you snuck in my room I would:

[] Go back to sleep

[] Kick you out

[] Cuddle with you

[] Be like wtf?

[] Let you sleepover

[] Beat your ass

[] Sexy time

If you kissed me I would:

[] Kiss you back

[] Smile & laugh

[] Be shocked

[] Slap you

You are:

[] Cute

[] Adorable

[] Pretty

[] Beautiful

[] Okay

[] Sexy

[] Hotass Motherfucker

[] Ew

I Would:

[] Smash

[] Pass

[ofbloodandarmani-blog]

Juliet Simms Live @ The Los Angeles Theatre! The ad in the paper read in big, bold, red ribbon letters. No, it couldn’t be. Levi’s could feel his heart sink into the pit of his stomach the moment he saw her name. How long had it been? A year? Maybe two? He’d lost track, drowning himself in liquor and work - a little stick and poke in between. Anything to drown out the deafening silence of his lonely apartment. There was no warmth there. Not since she had slipped out on him.

Not even his beloved little Crow, whom was curled up in his lap, could bring him much joy.

Azure eyes scanned further down the page, he read the fine black print aloud. “Christmas Charity Event! One Night Only! December 8th, at nine o’ cl-” He had nearly fallen from his seat. The paper slipped from his , now trembling, grip and onto the tabletop. “Holy shit, Crow. That’s in an hour!”

He had to see her. He had to speak to her.

But there was no way…not if she knew it was him. She’d run. She was afraid. At least that is what she said in the letter she had left him the day she had vanished from the face of the Earth. A throaty moan escaped his plush pair and he lifted his tuxedo cat from his lap and placed him carefully on the floor.

He knew what he had to do.

And in less than an hour later, after a drink or two…or ten, he was stumbling down Hollywood Boulevard and into the theatre, all decked out in red and a false beard; looking like something straight from a Tim Burton movie. If his svelte build didn’t give him away, his stature sure would.

The crowd was large. Much larger than he’d expected. (He’d clearly underestimated her.) “Ho ho ho. Move the fuck out of my way. Santa comin’ through.” Levi inched through the sea of teenage girls in ugly Christmas sweaters, careless stumbling over people. Good thing he was almost unrecognizable in his Santa getup, or there would be trouble.

He made his way to the bar so he could get a full view of the theatre. “One ginger beer, please.” Christmas lights and fake icicles hung from the rafters. Large scaled Christmas toys decorated the main stage and the smell of Christmas cookies and eggnog hung in the air. And a large, twelve foot tree practically illuminated the entire venue m. It reminded him of the first Christmas they had spent together. M a g i c.

The nostalgic feeling, however, was short-lived. Broken by the familiar shrill screams of teenagers. She was there. Levi sunk down low, a lump rising in his throat as she spoke into the microphone. God, how he longed for that voice! Longed for it more than anything in the world - even more than the Monster.

The dealer watched intently as she moved gracefully across the stage. Her long hair following closely behind her. She was so beautiful, so perfect. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Before he knew it, the set had ended and she was walking off the stage. Levi turned toward the bar guzzled the remainder of his ginger beer and plopping his heavy, drunken head onto the counter.

[blxckinkrevenge]

Still caught up in the rush that the crowd had left her with, Juliet was beaming. The turnout was so much bigger than she’d expected, and for what? To watch her perform a small handful of holiday classics? Her heart was soaring, her head was buzzing. In her high, she’d forgotten to do a sweet of the room for Drunk Santa while she still had a vantage point up on the stage. She couldn’t turn back now; it would have been as ridiculous as it would obvious.

“Fuck.”

The curse fell from her lips in the form of a sigh, head spinning almost as though it was on a swivel as she tried to scan the crowd from ground-level. This was going to be impossible. How hard could it be to spot an ambling giant in a Santa suit? Apparently harder than she would’ve guessed. Face after face passed by her vision, but none donning that awful fake beard. What if he’d changed? Oh, God, what if he’d gone rogue? Fuck, fuck fuck.

She was anxious now, heart hammering as she wove her way through the crowd, muttering the odd apology as she shouldered someone out of the way. Determination was lit behind her eyes; this was a serious matter. Even if Drunk Santa wasn’t out to get her, she couldn’t rightfully bypass her curiosity and push him out of her head, could she? She had to know what this guy was all about.

All she could hope was that his story wasn’t a sad one.

Ten solid minutes she’d spent searching the crown with no trace. Just as she was about to give up hope and all off her search completely, she caught sight of the lump of red and white at the bar. Could it have been..? Of course it was. It wasn’t like there was a Drunk Santa the Sequel running --stumbling, rather -- around the venue. This had to be him; it had to. And, off she went, the heels of her boots clicking against marble flooring as she broke into a jog. Thankfully, her overzealous outburst was mostly drowned out by the buzz of collective conversation around them.

By the time she reached him, Juliet had damn near lost her breath. She’d blame it on the nerves. How strange she must have looked, running up to this -- possibly passed out or dead -- stranger at the bar. The look on the bartender’s face spoke for her. Last minute hesitation seized every muscle in her body for a moment, stopping her short just before she could tap his shoulder. What if this guy was nuts?

    “Ah, fuck it.” Almost silent.

         Reaching outward, she delivered a purposeful tap to the back of the shoulder.

    “Hey, dude, you okay?”

[blxckinkrevenge]

@therighttohxte

When sunlight streamed through an exposed window, beating down in the face of someone who had been almost impossibly intoxicated not more than a few hours prior, ‘glimmer’ was hardly an appropriate word to use. ‘Glimmer’ implied something peaceful, serene, like waking up in a meadow, or waking up to the sound of birds chirping peacefully outside. It was not being forced awake from barely enough sleep for a sober person when your head felt like it had been run over by a train several times over the course of the night; it was not the sickening nausea that pitted itself in your stomach every time you made an attempt to swivel your head too quickly. No, a more fitting word for that would have been searing. beating.

              Any and all of the above.

A groan pushed from Juliet’s throat, eyes squinting further shut long before she even thought to open them. It felt like she’d swallowed sulfuric acid -- she very well could have; she didn’t remember a damn thing. The last thing that she could even attempt to gather was searching out a place in the venue to get drinks with Dave and Matteo. Everything after was a blur. She didn’t remember ever having slept on such a comfortable bed at any point during the tour. So, she wasn’t in her bunk. It was curiosity that peeled her eyelids apart, though it turned almost immediately to regret.

         Curiosity killed the cat, and this time satisfaction did not bring it back.

For a split second, as her hazy vision adjusted to the blindingly bright sunlight, she had to force herself not to vomit. Potentially worse than the violent bought of nausea, though, was the realization that she was nude. And worse than that? You guessed it: the naked body under the sheets beside her. Hungover and naked in a hotel room with a stranger. Perfect. It was hard telling through the fog of having just woken up who was beside her. All she could make out was a mass of black hair. The palms over her hands pushed her up enough to sit upright, the chill of the air conditioning covering her flesh in goosebumps. She wasn’t all too concerned about her bare chest. Whoever was sleeping next to her had already seen them once in the last twenty-four hours. She didn’t have enough motivation to get up and search for her shirt anyway.

Breathing out a sigh, she brought both hands up to rub at her face, another groan slipping free. “Classic. Fuckin’ classic.”

[therighttohxte-blog]

ALMOST done typing shit up.

Tomorrow I’ll be able to send memes and replies.

<3

Sorry for the wait!

[blxckinkrevenge]

You suck.

[blxckinkrevenge]

     ℐuliet’s eyes had been glued to him since she’d stepped into the room. Donned in red and white, the man she had designated ‘Drunk Santa’ stumbled about, bumping shoulders with men and women alike. It almost looked as though he was prowling...though his intoxication had crippled his coordination to such a degree that prowling was no longer feasible. She almost felt sorry for him.

         Almost.

     Worse, however, than the sympathy was the constant, itching fear that if she were to turn her back on Drunk Santa for too long, she may have ended up in someone’s trunk. So, he was her main focus. Her attention was peeled away from him only long enough to take her place on stage. For the duration of three holiday classics, she’d lost track of him. Oh, God, what kind of trouble was that merry nuisance getting himself into? At least her performance was enough to distract her curiosity and concern. While it lasted, that was.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming out. It means so much to see all of you joining us to have fun and raise money for such a great cause. One-hundred percent of the proceeds tonight are going to go toward giving Christmas to those who can’t afford it this year, be it those without homes or those who are simply struggling. You’re going to put a smile on the face of someone who needs it. Merry Christmas and happy holidays, guys.” Warmth spread over her face as her lips curled into a bright, beaming smile, hidden beneath her hand for a moment as she blew a kiss. As she stood and made her way from the stage, ringed fingers tugged at the bunched fabric of her dress to pull it back down on her thighs, eyes scanning the crowd as she did. Surely he couldn’t have gotten far.