Buffy-seymour‌:

kirbcy‌:

“Then don’t,” Bishop said with a jerk of his head. The word help ground under Bishop’s skin and he laughed, shaking his head, his hand splaying as he gestured. “I don’t want or need your help, Vanderbilt. I’ll say it again, just because you married a blood relative of him, that doesn’t mean anything. Water is thicker than blood for you two, that’s clear. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I don’t trust either of you, so just save me the bullshit. You want to small talk, fine, but don’t pretend like you give a shit about me.” Bishop was tired of the fake friends and fake shit, at least when people unbridledly hated him he knew that it was real.

He was right to not trust Ben. Ben wasn’t trustworthy, he knew that. He wished that life was too short to hold grudges because he knew people had plenty of them against him. And now, Bishop was one of them. “Look, I’m not here to be all buddy-buddy with you,” So maybe at first he was but not now. “I mean I’m not pretending. You are King’s little brother whether you acknowledge it or not,” And he did care about family, “I give plenty of shits about you.” How did Ben even express that he cared? “I know shit is fucked right now and we were never really close but let me hear about your problems. Hell, take all your problems out on me.”

kingkirbey‌:

The second she saw Ben, King gravitated toward him, taking in his bloodied face and stained shirt. She hadn’t seen the fight but she’d heard about it immediately, the news traveling fast through the penthouse. “Jesus.” It was all she could manage to get out as she pushed him back into the kitchen and onto a bar stool. Wordlessly, she went to grab a rag and wet it in the sink, coming back to press it to Ben’s nose. She worked in silence for a few moments, tending to the crusted blood on his face before she took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “This was still a good idea. You know it was.” It was hard to look at him and believe her own words, but she knew the guilt he carried with him would end up hurting him much more than any punch Quinn could throw. “This obviously isn’t a great start to the conversation. But.. it’ll get better with him. At least you’re trying.”

These parties never ended well. Shit always went down. Here he was thinking he was past all that drama, thinking he was way too mature for this shit. “I don’t know if I’m even trying. I couldn’t say anything to him. It was hard to even look at him. I just froze like an idiot and asked him how things were,” Ben just wanted to disappear. No, fuck that, he wanted to run. His face hurt, his hands hurt, everything fucking hurt. “What if it doesn’t? I fucked up. Quinn still seems pretty damn mad,” He just wanted to go back with King to Italy or Greece, hell even Lithuania. But part of him was doing this for her. He didn’t want her having to deal with his guilt all their lives. “I’d rather just back to our room and drink with you for the rest of the night.” That would really make him forget about the whole fight. 

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire ~ JK Rowling

arlovasquez‌:

chessieabernathy‌:

She hardly hears what the say, focus taken by the small bag they’re passing around. Part of her immediately regrets letting Arlo take the first hit, purely from her own impatience. It’s a bad idea, intentionally taking something laced, especially given her current state – But thanks to the high she’s already riding, Chessie doesn’t care. With a smile, she takes the bag from Ben, staring at it for a moment with bottom lip caught between her teeth. 

She cuts a line, and takes it with ease. Eyes falling shut soon after, she wipes at her nose to get rid of any excess, sniffling in the process. Breathing deeply, she nods, “S’fuckin’ lovely.” Chessie settles with, words slightly slurred, as she turns to Arlo with a grin, confirming his words from a moment ago. “I wish I would have got more,” she continues, a certain dizziness finding her after. Had the room always been spinning? Trying to disregard it, Chessie dips her finger into the small bag, picking up the last of the contents to rub against her gums. Trying to enjoy the moment, she takes a deep breath in, pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ears – Instead of commenting on how hot the room had begun to feel, or the way her heart was slamming against her chest. 

“Honestly? I think I’m okay without any more. I feel absolutely wonderful and like I could do anything,” Arlo said, leaning himself back to lay on the floor. 

When he got high with marijuana, the room would become less focused and almost whimsical in a way. Things would shift ever so lightly but everything would feel light to him in the process. With cocaine, however, he was finding himself sharp and focused, a welcome difference. 

“I can hear the music really well,” he said pushing himself up to stand. “Chessie, you should dance with me!” He extended a hand towards her. 

Could she really handle more? Damn, he was impressed. Here he was assuming Chessie would be the lightweight out of all of them when it was really him. That’s what he gets for not doing this shit for two years. He was pretty content for now. He felt like he could be anything he wanted to be at this point. King Kong, Jeff Goldblum. Whoever he wanted to be thanks to Chessie and Arlo for sharing their stash. 

With a nod, he agreed with Arlo, “I’m good right now.” He said as he leaned back more. “Ben watched Arlo invite Chessie up, perfectly content to stay on the floor. “Yeah, you two do that.” He said with a laugh, “In the meantime, I’ll be looking for my beer.” 

taterodriguez‌:

“Parties in the Upper East Side are the only good thing about Manhattan,” Tate had grown to detest Manhattan and everything it had stood for.  The drama and politics of it all had grown to be too much and sometimes they wish they had been able to abandon it all and leave the way Monty and Ben had done, but they had unfortunately set roots here.  “Honestly, don’t let them get to you.  They feed off of drama so just don’t give it to them.”  Tate gave a shrug of their shoulders before sipping their vodka.  “Don’t be a stranger, I’ve heard the food is pretty good.”  Tate boasted playfully.  “Only since you haven’t had the chance to taste my food.”

“King?”  Tate hadn’t been able to keep track of people these days especially if they hadn’t been around since their days of Nightingale Prep.  “Why does that name sound familiar? – Anyway, congratulations.  I’ll drink to that,” Tate chuckled before finishing their vodka.  “Please, I’ll never say no to that.”

"Have you been to SantaCon? That comes in a close second,” He had never been but he heard about it. People dressed in Christmas gear while drinking. Now that sounded like a good time. Tate was giving some good advice, advice that Ben should probably listen to. However, most of the time, information went in one ear and out the other for him. “It’s hard not to when I guess I’m this drama filled apparently,” He confessed to them. “I’m sure it is,” Was it as good as the food he had abroad, though? That was the real test. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“King Kirbey, she’s the hot blonde at this party,” He pointed out, shocked they didn’t know exactly who she was. “And she’s Bishop’s sister,” He added, seeing if it would ring any bells. “Thanks, I’ll drink to that too,” He decided. “How about we skip the chaser and go right for some shots?” Ben suggested. 

 chessieabernathy‌:

Somewhere past the sunrise, Chessie hadn’t woken with feeling a common feeling of being both groggy and mildly hungover. The combination always warranted a warm cup of coffee to ease her into the day – Even with plenty of party guests sleeping all over her home thanks to the blizzard, she didn’t miss a beat. Having changed in a short robe, pulled close, she brewed a pot, leaning against the kitchen counter as she scanned the room. “Morning, sunshine,” she comments quietly, giving the new addition an arched brow. “Help yourself.” Chessie offers, nodding to the pot next to her.

Ben started feeling more comfortable around the apartment that he was intruding in. It had been a few weeks and he finally was deciding he could take most things without asking. The one problem was that Ben wasn’t a morning person. He’d much rather sleep in than have to get up. But for some reason, he was up. It took him at least an hour to wake up, another thirty minutes to be open to conversation, it was a whole process. Add in the fact that he was hungover and his face fucking hurt. Not to mention that getting to sleep was a whole process. Maybe it was all of the guilt that he had to live with. It had to be cold and he had to sleep in just his boxers. However, he always made sure he was decent when he went outside of the room that he and King shared. After he rubbed his eyes, adjusting to some light, he trekked to the kitchen. He looked at Chessie, giving her a hand to at least acknowledge her. “Stop being so loud,” He told her in a whisper. “It’s hurting my head.” Since when did he get hangovers? It was this American shit. He took some coffee before he looked back at her, “Do you think we can get out to the terrace for a quick smoke?” He asked, not knowing the extent of the snow from the blizzard.

Ben was thankful for BYOB. He finally got to bring himself some microbrew. None of these people ever experienced how amazing beer was like he had. He donned a white suit. To the outside world, he felt as if most of them knew him as little pure Benjamin Vanderbilt. Or at least they did. He used his bottle opener to open his beer up and took the cap into his free hand. “By the end of the night, I think that I’m going to need to carry around a garbage bag for all of these,” He said as he showed his bottle cap to the other person. “Time is also just a social construct, but that’s another lecture for another day. It’s probably hard for Americans to grasp that.”

quinnxarchibald‌:

Quinn shook his head at the brunet, not sure what to say. He wanted to punch Ben again, this time for being so Ben. Leave it to his former friend to drain all the fight out of him. The way Ben was looking at him, like Quinn had kicked his child or told him that Christmas was canceled, made Quinn start to feel bad for him. He didn’t want  to feel bad for Ben though. This was the man who had left Quinn to face the world on his own. He should still be furious. “I don’t know what happened either.” Quinn finally replied, looking down at the other man. “I shouldn’t have punched you though. I’m sorry.”

This wasn’t going to be easy. Here he was face to face with Quinn and he wasn’t making any effort to apologize. After years of torture, this was an opportunity to at least open the conversation up. Ben winced when he apologized before he tensed his shoulders. It showed how easy it was to do such a thing. However, he felt like he had to show Quinn he was sorry too which was easier said than done. “It’s fine. I punched back too, it’s probably the alcohol. Let’s just forget about it, alright?”