Benvanderbilt - I Don't Care About Being Good.

chessieabernathy‌:

“I’ll save it for tomorrow morning during the hangover breakfast,” She held up her hands to show she meant no harm. “Not trying to have a bad time? You could’a fooled me, B. All you’ve done since got here is mop.” She rolled her eyes at him, finishing off her champagne before abandoning it on the end table. “Now you’re speaking my language,” Chessie perked up at the mention of gin and tonic, her go to drink. She didn’t wait for him to follow along, instead – Chessie began her way to the bar. “C’mon, the bartender asked for my number, so I think I can charm him into pouring heavy.”

"As long as I still can get my morning smoke in, do whatever you want,” He insisted. “It is your place after all. If I were you, I’d be walking around here pantsless always,” He chuckled, “Hey, I have not just moped around here. I’ve done more than that. I’ve looked out the window a few times,” He really should get out more. He just didn’t want to. 

Alcohol tasted pretty damn bad to him. Beer was an acquired taste but gin was not his favorite liquor out there. “Fine,” He agreed as he followed her, “Wait, did you give it to him? If he asks for my phone number, I’m gonna tell him I don’t have a phone.”

arlovasquez‌:

chessieabernathy‌:

“S’lot better than pot,” Chessie confirmed with a nod, laughing lightly. Had she gone into this moment without having downed a bottle of vodka – This would have been… stranger. Her, Arlo, and Ben Vanderbilt? The latter would surely cause a rift in their shared home by tomorrow – Chessie didn’t know much about him and King, but as far as she could tell, they’d given up on drugs. At least, it’s what she could assume, based on second hand stories she heard. It should have concerned her more, that she was introducing Arlo to the substance, just like she had with Quinn. That guilt would find her soon enough. 

At their questions, Chessie nodded – “Powerball is the lottery, dumbass.” She began first, giving Ben a pointed look, before explaining. “It’s supposed to like, take the edge off, ya’know?” The explanation didn’t come out quite as clear as it sounded in her head, words still slurred even with her lifted mood and sudden burst of energy. “Ro’s just being an idiot, as usual,” she grumbled to herself, pulling a dime bag from her purse. “I’ve never tried it before,” Chessie spoke honestly, words trailing off as she gave the bag a wide eyed look, “Lets just –” she continued, created a fist with her free hand, pouring a small pile onto it before holding it out to Arlo. “You try it first,” She suggested with a smile, “Consider it a late Christmas present.” 

It was kind of fun for a moment to sit back to watch the other two banter a bit, laughing as Chessie corrected Ben about the Powerball. 

“Take the edge off? I usually wouldn’t say no to anything that helps with that,” Arlo said with a smirk. He curled his legs under himself and watched with rapt attention as Chessie poured the substance onto her hand. Rising to his knees, he shifted closer, lowering his head and sealing off a nostril and inhaled. 

There wasn’t really a burn this time and Arlo almost immediately felt the affects take hold. 

“Merry fucking Christmas, then…” he said quietly, eyes closed from the euphoric feeling crashing over him. When his eyes fluttered open at last, he shifted his gaze upwards to Chessie and smiled softly.

“Mmm. Lovely.”

“It’s fucking powerball,” He insisted. They had a certain type of banter, but at the end of the day, he still considered her somewhat of a friend. Back in the day, Ben was a bit more experimentative. His frontal lobe wasn’t fully developed yet, he thought that he was invincible. However, he had never speedballed before. Now, his judgment was as poor as it had been previously. He was up for anything and everything. The consequences were well past his thoughts. 

He then watched Arlo inhale, a smirk on his face as he did so. He missed this a lot. And now, he couldn’t wait for his turn. He felt like a little kid waiting for his share of candy. Now it was his turn and he tried to contain his excitement in. 

“And a happy new year.” He cheered before tipping his nose down and inhaling the drug. “All yours.” He said to Chessie, indicating that it was only fair if it was her turn now. 

buffy-seymour‌:

“What can I say? I like new beginnings.” There was something hopeful about New Year’s Eve and the new year. It was full of potential and hope and change. “Actually, 2018 was a very good year for me. I’m just excited for 2019 to be even better.”

"It’s not really a new beginning. Time is just a social construct. We might not even be living in the actual year 2018,” He lectured, “And there’s no way of knowing. So really can you be optimistic about a concept?”

wrenabernathy‌:

Wren Abernathy had not been raised to discuss problems in public. Actually, he had not been raised to discuss problems, period. Many families tried to keep up appearances for the outside, but in the Abernathy family it went well beyond that, to the point where it had been nearly impossible for Wren to even talk to Chessie since she’d moved in with him. Of course, he checked up on her, made sure she ate and spent his evenings sitting in front of her bedroom door. But if he was being honest with himself, he’d been avoiding talking about what had happened as much as she had been avoiding him.

So, when Ben asked about her, all he did was dip his head and then look back up with what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “She’s okay,” he said, his intonation falling flat indicating Wren’s response was anything but an invitation to discuss Chessie. “How are you?” he asked, hoping that would be enough to change the subject. He liked Ben well enough, but he hadn’t exactly sought out the most clandestine table in the entire place to still have to talk about what had happened.

Despite his mother’s efforts to always tell Ben it wasn’t polite to be nosy, it never worked. He was always looking at drama from afar and never really trying to get into it himself. The latter was inevitable with a last name like Vanderbilt as well as having a knack for vices. It wasn’t his fault, it was in his blood. At least that’s what he told himself. 

“Good, glad to hear that,” He caught on that this was something Wren wasn’t particularly open about talking about, which was fine. He just liked hearing that she was okay. “I’m fine. I couldn’t be better.” He lied, not wanting to delve into any more details. Ben was a private person, he was taught to swallow his problems and put on a happy face when he was growing up. That was one of the few things that carried over into adulthood for him. “How are you?” He asked, returning the gesture. “Did you have a better New Year’s than the rest of us?”

I like airplanes. I like anywhere that isn’t a proper place. I like in betweens.

Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 7: Brief Lives. (via thequotejournals)

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?”

seboriley‌:

“Dude, I’m kidding,” Sebastian assures, a little laugh bubbling up his throat as he tries to soften the blow. “What, they don’t bust your balls in Europe like they do in the good ‘ol U-S of A? We still got that on ‘em?” He offers a clipped but not insincere thanks, grabbing the handle of the knife and working it through a lime. “Well, might as well have some. No point in wasting a perfectly good lime. But if we’re going all out, we gotta find the salt…” He starts pulling open cabinets with reckless abandon, finally catching sight of a shaker and pulling it out. “’Kay. Lick your hand, Benny boy.”

He was always a wound up drunk. He did things he wasn’t supposed to and got angry at useless things. However, he was going to laugh this one off. “No one in Europe even has a sense of humor,” He joked. He waited patiently for the salt that Sebastian was looking to discover. “Too bad we aren’t taking body shots.” He hadn’t done that in years. It seemed like a younger Ben thing to do, especially when he was crossfaded. “To the New Year,” He cheered before he moistened the back of his hand. He poured the salt on his hand and licked it, realizing that his hands were probably pretty gross. Oh well. Germs take a break on New Year’s Eve. He threw his head back as he took the tequila shot. He then began to suck on his lime. “I’m ready to do another one, not gonna lie.”

duchessb‌:

   “They might let them believe in Santa longer then. Beer is more accessible to most father’s sitting around wrapping presents for kids. And to be honest let’s think about this… children with dads did have a Santa Klaus if you think about it because it’s some man who drinks and shows up to give you presents and acts like he’s owed something for it.” A shrug lifts Beau’s shoulders as she glances over to Ben, pursing her lips for a moment. She wasn’t sure what caused her to go off on that tangent, but she could blame Chessie’s plying her with Champagne, if nothing else.

“Or their father might just tell them the truth.” That’s what Ben’s dad did after he moped one too many times about not being able to see Santa deliver gifts. “Good for them for still being able to wrap nicely. Maybe we should just be getting rid of the Santa myth and giving the load of work to dads. ” Were all dads that fucked up? “Yeah, that’s the difference between milk and beer. Milk makes Santa seem so pure, I guess and beer makes me think he has an alcohol problem.” Ben said with a shrug. “At least if he was having champagne, it’d make me think he was a man of superior taste.”

iamrenanpacheco

rowan-tandel‌:

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