ocean view .

[Deleted]

Was it only two in the afternoon? Orla questioned as she read the LED glare of her iphone for the second time, a frown splitting her forehead into three. It's not two, she turned to her company, lifting a bloody mary to her lips, feeling nothing but the chill of ice. Her mind felt light in heat, or maybe it was the amount of alcohol she'd be consuming since they arrived in the hotel morning. Whatever it was, there was a glossy sheen atop her aqua eyes, a numbness to the tips of her fingers, and an absence of weight where her brain should be. The morning had been cast in mixed drinks, shots of polish remover (or something that tasted similarly), and green vapors. I hate these, Orla set the glass on the circular table beside her seat, stretching her long legs on the ledge of the balcony, before removing a stem at a time. Make me a drink that doesn't taste like canned soup, she spoke to no one in particular, fingers gracefully folding marijuana into a paper and sealing it with a lick of her tongue. She felt annoyed with herself, her undertones grouchy, she was sure her friends were becoming irritated by her pettiness.. if she were on opposite ends of the spectrum, she would be wearing thin. The skinny blonde rose the joint to her lips, taking a few puffs of it before handing it to a neighboring Seven. Her hand softly cupped the girls face in her hand, looking deeply into her eyes before passing it off. You take care of this as if it were your own flesh, inhale, and exhale, do not disappoint me. The girl sauntered into the main room, her movements loose and less controlled than usual. She stopped at the counter, wobbling on the tips of her toes as she routed through the bottles of alcohol. Clinking them together as she dismissed possibilities. There was so much alcohol, piles of it that she had no doubt they would finish over the course of the weekend. Eyes squinted while reading a bottle, shrugging her bony shoulders, pouring some of it in a shot glass, and most of it on the counter. As Orla slung back the shot, her face scrunched, and her finger pointed dramatically at the stereo. No more Blurred Lines, Sinthia, Kanye West was playing, no more. Making her way back to the balcony, and lifting her joint from her best friend's fingers to her lips, her voice exclaiming with a slight giggle, it's only two.. I'm fucked. music jay-zzzz location miamiii notes i'm sorry, i don't know how to write tagged @sinthia seven elisabeth harper @ithika @charlie

[Deleted]

Here she was, caught with her panties around her ankles. Literally taking the piss, or a piss. The usual stark cleanliness of the hotel room was dialed back, the bathroom thrown into darkness as she had no desire to turn on the light. Her haze was thick, that of alcohol. She'd skipped breakfast, lunch, and dinner of the previous night, content with the warmth of should have been considered a dangerous drug. The blonde's head slumped, her limbs attempting to support it as they balanced precariously on her thighs. Her eyes were glassy and glossed, her entire frame swaying in a manner that really spoke to how drunk she had become since .. when? How long had they been there? Days? Hours? Her lips fettered around her tongue, moist suddenly with a swipe of warm pink. Sinthia kicked her panties aside, considering only momentarily that it was pointless to have them, dress falling back down around her hips and she cleaned herself and stood. But Orla's voice filtered under the door of the bathroom, causing a momentary roll of her eyes. She shook a package of soft white from her bra. Shut the fuck up, Oral. I don't even like Blurred Lines. Her voice was hoarse, drunk with the heat of the day and no doubt a considerable amount of goose. Speaking of, however, her brow furrowed at the straight and narrow shapes she had made on the counter. It never hurt. It made her teeth grind. She bent once, quiet as a mouse as the water ran to mask whatever sound she'd make. But she inhaled them down in her silence, a grin forming on her lips as the dollar bill rolled from her tight grasp and unfurled on the counter. Her hands shook momentarily as she reached for the door knob, hair a mess atop her blonde head, smiling in a way only her mouth could manage as she stood. The width of her body (which was too thin, if anything) found the wall outside the bathroom for support. What a stupid, stupid grin. Charlie, baby, do you have a boner? Her finger tips dance across his shoulders as she slips by him, sinking into a chair and propping tanned legs up on the windowsill. The thin cloth of her dress fell up her thighs from pure gravity, and she dangled her head back, unaware entirely of the music and the background noise that it provided. Digging yet more treasures from her bra, her fingers were cold and jittery as she lit her own joint, casting a dark look at Ithika. Mommy, don't tell on us, we won't make you smoke any. With that she leans over until her face is level with Seven's, mischievous, pupils dilated to a ridiculous darkness that consumes any hint of blue. Her head jumps from side to side, mouth forming the ups and downs of syllables. I know there ain't wrong with me. Something strange is happening. music blood on the leaves - kanye west. location miamiii notes stealing code sorta

[Deleted]

A bottle pressed to her lips, something that tasted vaguely of... smoke? No, that wasn't right, but her tastebuds seemed to have taken a vacation somewhere around dusk. Everything after that seemed to blur together in a haze of cigarettes and various liquors that had been thrust into her palm. She would hate herself in the morning for behaving like this. She would try to argue to herself that it was the influence of the others - their loss of inhibitions infectious - but it was the Ithika that she had tried to bury with some facade of new found morality that should have come with motherhood.    For tonight, she would bob on the balls of her feet, dancing to whichever beat happened to vibrate through the speakers, sending the occasional embarrassing text to one person or another. How long had she been doing that now? "Fuck off, Sinthia." The words were past her lips before she even registered what Sinthia was talking about, coming automatic the second she heard 'mommy. She wanders over, leaning against the back of the other's chair. "Sorry, sweetheart, I was cranky the other day. I'll buy you a big rock to make up for it."  Maybe - if she remembered. "Forgive me?"     Before she even gets an answer, she's pulling back and falling onto the large couch in the main room, draping her legs over the back of it and abandoning the bottle of -- oh, "Tequila." No wonder she felt like such shit. An arm drapes over her face, heaving an overly dramatic huff. "Did we really come here to sit in a hotel room?" She was whining, not that she cared. She hated being trapped inside, no matter how much fun it may have been for the time being. They needed to go out and what better way to go out than as a group of drunks to do something they would regret tomorrow?  notes     wow this is awful & i ripped your code.

[Deleted]

Sobriety was slowly slipping away from Charlie McCarthy. He knew this because edges were blurred, voices softened, and Ithika looked even less like a human being and more like a Greek goddess than ever. It was a pleasant drunkenness, a drunkenness that made the sun on his skin feel like a warm body against his, a cool breeze dragged up by the sea and whipping away any trace of humidity. A cold glass stood sweating in the sunlight, neat gin being slowly diluted by ice. He lifted it and knocked it back, ice cubes crashing against his teeth as if in protest. "It's like seven in London," he said, turning to look at Orla as she lazed against the balcony's edge. A walking GQ editorial. "Do you even have a sense of time anymore?" He leaned over, swiping her abandoned bloody mary.  "Go throw every color of rum in there into a glass, throw in some pineapple juice, a little brandy, some lime... drink. Stop bitching." Heaving himself up, he took the drink into the kitchen for fixing. Despite issuing instructions as if he had expected Orla to do it herself, he placed the thick red concoction on the counter and set about making her a classic Zombie, following his own loose instructions from earlier. Then he set about chucking every spice he could find into the bloody mary, giving it a quick stir with the straw before tasting. The warmth of chilli cut through the previously overwhelmingly earthy taste of tomato, the spices working together to mask its flavor as much as possible. It was palatable enough. Going to return, he was suddenly faced by Ithika-- a fact that made his mouth run a little dry. Thankfully he was saved from having to utilize the function of speech - a function rendered out of use by her company - by her flouncing onto the couch. Slumping back into his chair, he pushed the glass full of amber liquid across to Orla. "She's right. I can't wait to get a white suit on and hit this town like it's 1982, since it seems to be stuck in it." Sinthia's appearance only made him drink faster, granting her an eye roll as he finished off his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah. Skinny white girls do it for me every time, it's so well documented." music not blood on the leaves. notes stealing the code for consistency not bc i'm a lazy asshole. c: this was short and atrocious.

[seven elisabeth harper]

Refusing anything but tequila was hardly working in the blonde’s favor. Shots for breakfast, a couple tequila sunrises for lunch. If it was acceptable anywhere, it was Miami, or maybe she meant Mexico. By this point thoughts were incoherent, the ocean somewhere visible off the balcony a distant blur, her company’s chattering going in one ear and directly out the other as she reached for her drink. The once ice cold glass met her plump lips, and the now warm and watered down drink went down. Eyelids clenched closed in reaction to the newfound disgusting temperature, and she slammed the drink to the table before her. Ugh, she moaned, rising to her feet, catching her own fall before attempting to stand up straight. It’s not two, is it two?, it’s two. This is what two o’clock in Miami looks like baby, she assured the equally, if not more, drunk blonde to her left, the words rolling off the tip of her tongue as she made her way to the bedside phone. All until Sinthia stopped her, clearly on a whole other high, Kanye West lyrics escaping her lips. Really? Cocking her head to the side, eyebrows furrowing. It was a quick second before she forgot what Sinthia said in the first place, and she remembered the point in her leaving the perfectly scenic balcony. The tequila sunrise. Do you know how to make a tequila sunrise? She asked Sinthia, who she was positive didn’t even register the question. Useless, she slurred as she plopped on the bed. Fingertips reached for the phone, pressing ‘0’ until she heard the concierge on the other line. I need a drink, a new cold one, she slurred to the poor woman on the other end of the line, who informed her of the full bar their room had to offer. I mean I get that, but I need one of those boys from the bar pool, the pool.. bar… a tequila sunrise! Thank you! The phone left off the hook and in light of the trail she made stumbling back to the balcony and right into Charlie’s lap. Ithika is right, she began, pulling a cigarette from the pack on the table, and perched it between her lips. No one is sitting here all day, I’m not sitting here all day. I’m going to go. A quick flick on the light and she inhaled the menthol cigarette, blowing the smoke directly in Charlie’s face. I don’t know where I’m going.. but I’m definitely going. music kanye playlist. so blood on the leaves. notes this is gross and i don't want to be their friend.

[Deleted]

Around her everyone was wearily intoxicated, their movements jagged and unplanned, like the cut of a bread knife. Orla watched them with her big jasmine eyes, her back leaning deep into the muskoka chair, her mouth lolling open absentmindedly. Sinthia meandered over, wobbly on her ankles, the blonde just listened to her babble lyrics incoherently. Orla lifted her hand, placing it on Sinthia shoulder, the experession on her face assuring the most wonderful idea, Sinny, sing me one song.. sing me... Missy Elliot. She pleaded for a moment, before tipping her head back to see Ithika behind her. Her reflexes had dimmed, she was almost unaware of the mocha skinned beauty. Can I also have a rock? she smiled lazily, laughing at her next words before they had even been spoken, like. A ruby, or a big meth crystal. Lifting the stuffed joint to her lips, she inhaled, a heavy fog sifted through her plump lips into the air around her. Her fingers glided along the rim of her freshly made drink, eyes fluttering to Charlie, you look like Tom Hanks from Castaway, where's Wilson? Lips curved into that of a smirk, lifting from the dish of the chair, to hover the rolled paper by the bearded boy's lips. Her eyebrows raised, and she nodded on for him to take a hit. Ithika is right , she repeated Seven, stealing the joint, taking her final puff and pressing the remainder into an ashtray. Orla Fitzpatrick climbed into her feet, taking a large gulp of her drink, the icy liquid burned her throat. I'm going to the beach.. after this drink, and shots, long stems took her back to the kitchen, drinking the rest of the golden liquid on the way, and placing the glass in the sink. The counter was a watery mess, glasses and alcohol strewn all over, it didn't take her long to find five shot glasses, a bottle of tequila, and limes which Seven had so intelligently cut up before they dined on substance. She once again sloppily poured tequila into five shot glasses, sucked back her own, and chomped on a lime. Drink, change and let's go. Drinking was easy, changing was easier. Sifting through her bag in the open space of the living room, it seemed she had packed very little wardrobe that wasn't swimwear.. but after being told they were leaving for Miami in a few hours, little came to mind. She wasn't shy about changing, lifting her top off, and undoing her bra to revel a bare chest. Orla fished a black bikini top out of her bag, and managed to tie the strap on her neck, but struggled when it came to the next. Thirty seconds of trying, she was defeated, and looked at her friends with begging eyes, tie me up, my fingers hurt. music fire walker - black rebel motorcycle club notes boo boo booooo

[Deleted]

They knew her better than she thought they did. All of them, even Charlie, who couldn't keep his cool around Ithika for a second, Sinthia watched his movements, his stares with big, wide eyes -- not from the fact that she was doe eyed and lovely, but because the drugs made them that way. No, as beautiful as Sinthia was, there was no poetry to her movements, no glamor. She was threadbare, careless, tousled and slightly mangy. The laugh that left her mouth at Ithika's words were almost oafish, a cackle of some sort, and she lifted her middle finger at the brunette, tipping forward towards her as she landed without ceremony on the floor. Are you going to put a rock on my finger, baby? Or are we dealing in the rocks that I prefer? Like a child under a table, which was a perfect description of what she was, Sinthia reached above her head onto the table to clasp at the class and knocked over her drink in the process. Yet that didn't seem to matter, and as the liquid began to spill over the mahogany edge towards the floor, the blonde opened her mouth wide and allowed it to fill the gaps between her teeth. Orla, where can I get nips like yours? Her fingers come into contact with the blonde's thigh, remembering almost too late that she wasn't wearing underwear and crossed her legs at the ankle for good measure. Although Orla stood, begging for someone's help, Sinthia hardly noticed, unable to quite move from the floor. Mommy, are you going to get that? Baby needs your help. Yet another, nearly hideous cackle, and she seemed to roll away, snaking across the carpet before somehow scrambling to her feet. She dances over to Charlie, wiggling, but definitely dumping herself into his lap. She surveys his face with a cross brow, scowling as he often did in the presence of such white women. Your brows are really offensive. Like there they are, taking over the middle of your entire face, like an invasive species. But she doesn't stay there long, as Sinthia was a creature of movement. Although she hadn't voiced an opinion about leaving said hotel room, the blonde crawls towards her suit case, which is over loaded with clothing, a mess just as she was. For a moment she is quiet, something uncharacteristic for her, and she sits cross legged on the floor, back to her friends. Fingers pull at the bathing suit in the depths of the canvas suitcase, removing her dress in one swift motion. music way too cold - kanye west feat. dj khaled. notes poop.

[Deleted]

She had been growing increasingly restless for hours, fidgeting every half an hour so, itching to take a breath of the cold night air. So the first agreement of leaving the room was all the encouragement Ithika needed to heave herself into some amount of attention on the various conversations scattered around the room. Until that point, her attentions had been flighty, as was her nature, only tuning in when someone said her name or offered her another drink, sometimes pausing in her own little world to flash Charlie a look just to see his reaction or comment on the atrocity of the music vibrating through the room.     "Since Sinthia is being such a pain, I'll just get you a diamond and take you to Vegas," she doesn't bother trying to whisper the joke at the apparently topless and struggling blonde, her volume control seeming to have short circuited sometime after the third or fourth shot of the day. A dramatic huff escapes her, as if standing were the most inconvenient request in the world -- despite her own need to change -- but she gets to her feet and wanders over to snatch up the dangling strings. "If we were in France, you could just go topless." How many times had she made an 'if we were in France' remark since they arrived? Too many for her to remember. "Maybe we should go topless anyway."    Her fingers fumble to tie a bow once, twice... and then gives up, practically knotting the strings instead just to hold them together.     When it's essentially accomplished, she's wandering over to her own bags that had been discarded in a pile by the door with enough clothes to last her far longer than they would be here. They were all lucky she didn't pack her entire wardrobe. "Now Charlie, you might want to turn around, I'm not sure any of us are in the right state to perform CPR." She winks, which probably looks more awkward than sexy, and goes about her business of pulling on her bikini. Despite her words, she's being so much more discrete than the others, using her dress to cover herself until she has to tug it off to get on the top. "Do you think they have sharks here? I always wondered if I would survive a shark attack."  notes     i only feel pity for chawlee.

[Deleted]

Whole body lax with alcohol, he slumped further into the chair, barely feeling human but not in a bad way. Tension that had previously knotted up his shoulders had eased deliciously into slack muscle, his hand hanging off the end of the armrest, glass held in a perilously loose grip. The girls' voices blended together as each concurred with the other that this balcony was no place to spend their vacation, though in truth he couldn't see much of a difference. It took the surprise of Seven flopping her slight frame into his lap for Charlie to drop the glass, though he barely noticed it slip-- in fact, he'd forgotten he'd even been holding it barely a second later. Instead his arms slipped around her tiny waist, the smell of her perfume engulfing him for a moment, reminding him of clandestine trips to her house when he'd told his parents that he'd had to study late. Soothing as it was, he felt a fresh stab of guilt at having abandoned his sister in arctic New York. "Ha ha," he said dryly in response to Orla, ducking his head back to try and avoid her touch. "And you look like Barbie, an actual fucking doll." He shot a disparaging glance at her bikini perfect body, though accepted the joint gratefully, sucking in a deep inhale. As revenge he blew it out slowly in Seven's face, before prying the cigarette from her lips and dropping it in Sinthia's glass. "Didn't anyone tell you those give you cancer?" Before he could really register what was happening a shot glass full of clear, liquid lack of responsibility was placed before him, and before he could really stop himself it was gone. Cursing under his breath at the burn, his stomach momentarily threatening revolt but eventually deciding it would postpone. He picked up a quarter of lime and shoved it in his mouth, tearing the acidic flesh from the peel and chewing happily. "Gotta hand it to you Fourteen Divided By Two, Miami was a good idea. The tequila? An even better one, kudos Oral-B." And then Sinthia plopped herself down on his lap, sharing space with Seven. It was so perplexing to suddenly have two bronzed beauties draping themselves across him that he didn't even manage to process it as a positive, irked at being treated like furniture. He ignored her comment. Thankfully she was gone in a flash, leaving Charlie to defensively pull Seven closer, using her as a human shield from the others. This particular tactic was amped up when people suddenly started getting naked everywhere. "Woah, woah!" he held a hand up at the topless pair, pointedly turning to look at the scenery. "You guys are gonna make Ithika feel like she's still at work."  music joy division. notes blaaaaaaaah.

[Deleted]

Orla could feel herself loosing touch with the realities around her, sensations were numbing with that last shot of tequila, her mind buzzed comfortably. She watched the scene around her, and it felt like she was at the cinemas. Her eyes hazily filtering Sinthia as she lapped the alcohol that steamed down the edge of the small bay table. She looked like a child, the way she was sprawled out, her sheer dress fanning around her. A child at a tea party, but instead of tea cups there were whiskey tumblers and shot glasses, and instead of tea biscuits they had weed and pills. She felt a cold hand touch the base of her thigh, glancing down at Sinthia and rolling her eyes at the lost blonde, feeling a prodding irritation at the back of her mind. Her fingers toyed with the strings, pulling them taut, but failing to actually tie them. Those big blue eyes looked pleadingly at her company, struggling to keep her top on. I'd love to go topless, but apparently there's something wrong with that, she glared at Charlie, who pointed accusingly at her. She was truly the least apprehensive in the way that she exposed herself, polite enough to hold the black fabric over her breasts, but at the same time not caring if anyone caught a peak. Between shoots, change rooms, and sexual encounters, everyone here had seen her in the nude more than just once. Orla stood tall as Ithika fiddled with the strings, I meant to tell you Ithika..., she stopped mid-sentence, loosing her thought in the mugginess of her mind. Nevermind, I forget, what are you doing back there? She craned her neck to look back, but not caring enough to actually see what was taking her so long. She smiled thankfully at Ithika,  who appeared to be done, not marking the knots in the strings that replaced a bow.  What is love, baby don't hurt me, her voice carried back onto the balcony after pulling bikini bottoms on, lifting her purse from the table, don't hurt me, no more. Orla entangled her fingers within Seven's, attempting to heave her friend from the comfort of Charlie's lap, go change.. I'm leaving. And leaving she was, stuffing her feet into a pair of flip flops, and slinging her purse over her shoulder. Hagrid, come on, she addressed Charlie, fingers tweezing the hairs on his chin, pulling them gently like a leash. music third eye - tool notes sorry lexa. you lose.