all-night girls whisper of escapades (CHELSEA)

[gabbie]

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Surprisingly, tonight it had only taken eight drinks to get here. Not that this happened often-- sure, more often then for your average person-- but it had certainly happened before. Last time it was after the tenth shot line that everything became sort of blurry, and Marilyn had a self-proclaimed "epiphany." Tonight was rather different but the same. After the show, a couple of guys had thrown a party (pretty standard around tour), composed of some crew members, band freaks, and the like. It had turned out to be mostly guys, who'd invested in a gluttony of beverages. Green apple vodka, Bacardi rum, Smirnoff Ice, Keystone Light, and Jack Daniels. Marilyn had ended the show on a bad note, mostly literally and figuratively. Earlier, some girls had noticed her arms, badly scarred, while she was signing autographs and a few fans had the audacity to say things. This infuriated her. And, in the final song Barbie the Dyke performed, Marilyn fucked up the last note. It wasn't too bad, but she nearly burst into tears over it, sensitive from her lack of sleep and constant purging and cutting as of late.

Of course, once Marilyn saw the stash, she was in a bad enough mood that she couldn't help but to help herself to a little bit of everything. A mango Smirnoff to start, downed fast, followed by a bit of rum&coke, then two shots of vodka... Needless to say, it went on. Marilyn was getting relatively trashed when the same epiphany came again.

She needed a new tattoo. Needed. Not want, but needed as in, it was an absolute necessity at that moment. She disappeared without saying a word to the guys, grabbing her bag and heading downtown. She wasn't precisely sure what city she was in at that moment; she was far too gone to figure that out. Instead of bothering to find out where she was, she merely walked up to the nearest guy (still clothed in her stage outfit), who recognized her and pointed her along to the nearest tattoo parlor. At that point, she was swaying and giggling to herself. She pulled out her phone and texted the first friend who came to her mind: Chelsea.

Chles, meet me @ Piratecity tatoo!! lil drunk xx

Knowing her message might be riddled with spelling mistakes but not given a shit, she pushed send and swung open the doors to the tattoo place. As a budding alternative star, she got a lot of recognition. Plenty of people didn't recognize her, still, but even then she had that look of fame that was so obvious and peculiar. Eyes glued themselves to her as she made her way to the receptionist, a girl who was obviously a fan; before Marilyn could say anything the girl pulled out a paper and pen and geekily asked for an autograph. Marilyn obliged; drunk, she loved attention. Then she told the girl what she wanted, sat down on a waiting chair, and drunkly stared around her and hoped Chelsea would join soon.

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words: 510
outfit: clickclack

[CHELSEA HOPE-ARTEMIS PAYNE,]

THERE'S A VULTURE
on my shoulder
AND HE'S TELLING ME TO GIVE IN
always hissing right in my ear L I K E I T S C O M I N G F R O M M Y O W N H E A D
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"Come on somebody, why don't you run? Ol' Red's itchin' to have a little fun. Get my lantern, get my gun, Red'll have you treed 'fore the mornin' comes," a small brunette sang, leaning against the wall in the bathroom. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail as she leaned forward, making eye contact with her reflection. Chelsea sighed, fixing the over sized flannel shirt that draped over her body. She never was quite happy with the shirt, yet at the same time she was. It never fit right, but at the same time it held good memories. And covered terrible ones. Taking a deep breath, she pushed up the sleeve of her shirt and cast her eyes down onto her revealed arm. Intricate pink lines that ran together, intersecting at points and branching off to lead away from the crook of her elbow and down to the raised scar in the middle of her wrist. They were a map, tracking her pain and heartache from high school. Chelsea slowly lifted the hem of the shirt and rolled down her waistband. Letters were scarred there, forming the words that people had loved to call her, along with slander from gossip. Wearily, her eyes drifted to the counter, glancing at the razor sitting beside the sink. A year clean, and yet she still longed for it; she needed at that point. Stress was taking over and some girl, who's name she refused to remember, was flirting with her husband in front of her whenever she could, along with calling her by the names scarred on her hips and forcing her worse nightmares to be drawn to the front of her mind. The sudden sound of Yellow by Coldplay startled her, snapping her out of her thoughts. Chels snatched up her phone and clicked on the new message, to avoid waking up the boys. She smiled slightly. Marilyn had texted her and that's just what she needed, some girl time.

The twenty-one year old slipped out of the bathroom and snuck over to her clothes, blindly yanking out a batman shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans. Throwing on the outfit and her infamous yellow converse, she was out the door and on her way.

Her hazel eyes scanned the street for the tattoo parlor, smiling as she found it. "Hey pretty girl," she smiled, walking in and seeing Marilyn. "What are we getting?"

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TAG marilyn
WORD COUNT 410
STATUS complete
OUTFIT Read the post till I make the outfit xD
NOTES n/a
CREDIT justlikefalling @ caution 2.0 
LYRICS fixed at zero, VERSAEMERGE

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