Oatanas‌:

text @ everyone (wren's entire contact list)

Wren: https://66.media.tumblr.com/2fa9e3cfa39b79f0cc3f8f34deaefe90/tumblr_pkbc48jjna1wrvxqxo1_540.jpg

Ben: what the hell is this??

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.” 

kirbcy‌:

Bishop was supposed to be nice, but the feeling of even being a little tongue in cheek had long since left his demeanor. Something about Ben, standing there, pretending to even give a little of a shit fundamentally irritated the shit out of him. “Then why are you talking to me? Because here’s the way I see it, Vanderbilt. You’re attempting to do whatever this is in attempt to smooth over the fact that you married my sister without so much as a thought to her brother who may want to fucking attend. Further, I doubt you even pushed her to talk to me, or say anything, or come the fuck home. No. You don’t get to slither into my life pretending to be a friend when you’d rather remind everyone how much you’d rather be in Europe or some bullshit. Go back then. Or at least save me the act.”

“I’m not talking to you out of guilt, trust me,” Honestly, he didn’t feel bad about not pushing King to come home. Not when he didn’t want to come home in the first place. Was New York even considered home anymore? “If it makes you feel better, no one is invited,” It was a spur of the moment thing. Ben wouldn’t have wanted a wedding with family members in attendance anyway, he liked the spontaneity. “I get it, you’re pissed at her, but she really does love you,” He reminded Bishop, “I’m talking to you because you look like you could use some company, Bishop. This party’s supposed to be fun,” This was ironic considering Ben was usually the one who was being miserable. “Oh we’ll be going back, I just have to take care of a few things first. It’s nice over there since we don’t have people at our throats all the time.” If Bishop wanted to push him away, he was going to go along with it. At least he could tell King he tried.

what's it like being back in the city?

“It’s starting to feel like I never left. Shit goes down around here that wouldn’t happen anywhere else.” Sometimes he felt like New York was suffocating. “And it wasn’t this cold in some areas of Europe.”

finnsmythe‌:

“Rum gives me a headache,” he explained. “Though it is a classic combination. Oh… that was you fighting? I heard the commotion and decided to stay out of it. God knows I don’t need to get into any more fights,” he shrugged. “No beer? That’s kind of bullshit. But maybe I just think so because I’m used to being around guys who could down pitchers by themselves. We should Postmates beer or something,” he laughed. “It’s good, yeah. I’m glad I can be here for O.”

“I would’ve gotten a lot more punches in if Monty didn’t break it up. I normally do more damage,” Ben had his fair share of fights in bars, while he was high, basically anywhere and everywhere. Nowadays he was a bit calmer and looked towards his wife to keep his impulse control in check. “Fuck yeah. I’d like to see you try to beat me in a shotgun competition,” Ben challenged, the competitive side taking over a bit. “Oh yeah, you guys are a thing or something,” He remembered hearing about that, “We should do a double date. It’s not really my thing but maybe O will enjoy it.”

bishopkirbcy‌:

“How the fuck is my sister with someone as tedious as you?” The words came out before Bishop could stop them. Drugs had a habit of making him much more unfiltered than he really liked, but at least he was calling a spade a spade. Might as well go all in, “Like, I can understand not wanting to be a part of all,” Bishop gestured with his hand to the pretentious party that was unfolding before them, “this fuckery. Status symbols, the microscope. But, you’re like this hipster construct that has consumed too much kool-aid of what you think is supposed to be ‘relaxed’ and ‘cool’. It literally blows my mind that my sister married such a jerkoff.” Ben wanted to be friends, but Bishop didn’t. He figured if he just kept being his normal asshole self, it would play out like he wanted.

He watched Bishop go on a rant about him. And just like that, he felt his hand squeezing his bottle as his nostrils flared. Fuck Bishop. He knew King was out of his league, which is why he never even tried to pursue her back in the day. But running into her in Italy was no coincidence. “You know what?” He said before he paused as he moved closer towards Bishop, “You don’t have to get it but you need to accept it. I love King. It doesn’t matter what you think, or what your parents think. You can say what you want about me, but don’t say shit when you don’t even know what our relationship is like.” He didn’t care about being friends with Bishop, but he did care about King. He didn’t like anyone bashing their relationship. And if he wasn’t King’s brother, Ben would’ve thrown at least one fist towards his face already. “If I were you, I’d be there for King,” He lectured, “That’s what siblings are supposed to do.” Ben didn’t care if he was overstepping his boundaries, Bishop fucked up calling him a hipster construct.

bishopkirbcy‌:

There was not edge to Bishop’s voice when he glanced to his brother in law in question, “Do you ever not do that? The professor and holier-than-thou routine?” Ben wouldn’t be wrong if he voiced his opinions that Bishop wanted little and less to do with him. But here he was, for whatever reason. Maybe he felt bad, who knew. Not even Bishop really knew at this moment, there seemed to be no ulterior motives. “Entertaining, yes, but then everyone would have a picture proof of your dick size, the shape and everything and some things are better left up to the public’s imagination.”

"It’s how I talk,” He said with a shrug. “If you don’t like it, no one’s stopping you from walking away.” He was done trying to impress King’s family. That shit was so far out the door. He had better things to worry about. “Do you always have this ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude?” He asked back, “I wouldn’t mind proving I have a big dick, though. I know I’m small but I know how to carry around a package.”

chessieabernathy‌:

There was a presence about Ben Vanderbilt that made Chessie think of him as an older brother, one that didn’t press her talk about her feelings, didn’t care – or in Ben’s case, mostly didn’t know – about her fuck ups. He was someone to have a drink or a smoke with, and shoot the shit. “Being a Vanderbilt can’t be much worse than bein’ an Abernathy. Go into any state in the Bible Belt and you’ll get swarmed.” She pointed out, attempting to keep the bitterness out of her tone at the mention of her family. “Don’t hold your breath,” she happily changed the topic, laughter at her lips. “Who knew you were such a romantic, B.” Chessie couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his comment, but appreciated the sentiment. At the mention of gin, she lifted a brow, giving him a look. “And what might that be?”

“That doesn’t seem like the Southern hospitality that everyone’s told me about. I figured you’d get swarmed because of popularity, ” He pointed out, “At least no one gives you a double take while you’re here.” He at least assumed no one did. Well, not in the way that they did to him now that he was back. Some people stopped in their tracks and obviously stared at him. It was very hard to ignore. “You’re more likely to be a psycho if you prefer gin,” He stated as if he was unconcerned, “It’s some unspoken alcohol rule.” Except people did speak about it. “See? no one thinks that about my beer. When are you gonna give it a chance?”

buffy-seymour‌:

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “Let me guess, you studied philosophy in college, didn’t you.” She was simultaneously too drunk and too sober for this conversation. “Here’s the thing, time has a definition. Time can be measured. One-one thousand.” Buffy held up a finger. “See? One second has passed. And  scientists have studied time. Your pretentious pessimism is also a social construct but nothing’s stopping you there, are they?”

“I wish. I don’t think my mother and father would’ve been very happy about that,” He was tied to their command when they paid for college. “How do you even know that that is real?” He insisted, “Seconds could be fake. We could think that time is moving on when it’s really not.” Her words then really began to sink in. Pretentious. That wasn’t the first time he was called that tonight. “I think it’s time for me to open up another beer.” He said as he began to shuffle his feet before walking away.