Benvanderbilt - I Don't Care About Being Good.

monty-santos‌:

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried to check out more than two at once,” Monty chuckled, as he started looking around and picking and picking a direction, “Going to Times Square is pretty much the opposite of the point of wandering around.  It’s way too crowded,” he said as he shoved his hands in his pockets, “And think about it. Most of them have vacation time that they can have whenever they want, so they’ll try to go in what they think is the off-season, which is why they’re here.  Or it’s the only time that they can get off.  Either way it’s not the same ones every day, and I’m sure that there were people who thought the same thing about you when you were traveling.  I just try to let them do their thing, because they’re happy and not really hurting anyone. Plus they boost the city’s economy and that’s always a good thing.”

“You should try that next time and see how many they let you take,” He suggested. “Let's go to the library first and do it.” Ben always likes to test the limits and see how much he can actually get away with. Although that shot him in the foot on New Year’s Eve. “But New York City? Out of everywhere? Why not the Keys or the Bahamas? Who would want to vacation here?” Maybe it was because he grew up and he wasn’t very fond of the city. The city has always been the place where he has fucked up the most. “I never looked like a tourist,” He argued, “I fit in all around Europe.” He insisted. “I mean the economy would be fine without a billion tourists. It costs five bucks to get water at some places here. And people around here will pay for that. I think it’s more of the desire to live here.”  

finnsmythe‌:

“Dude, seriously? ‘Probably hard for Americans to grasp?’ Don’t be so fucking pretentious,” Finn rolled his eyes. “And you are American if you forgot that fact,” he said and took a sip of his own drink. “I’m not surprised you brought beer by the way. Not after your rant at O’s Christmas party.”

Of course, Finn had to something to say about this. The Golden Boy that Ben’s mother wishes she biologically had rather than a runaway fuck up. However, he bit his tongue. “It’s been about two years since I’ve celebrated New Year’s here. It’s a bit different in other places.” He wasn’t even buzzed enough to be completely honest towards the other man. “Why didn’t you bring beer too?” He asked, “We could’ve had a competition,” Ben offered, remembering their conversation at O’s, “How’s that drink of yours treating you?” 

@oatanas

It wasn’t fun living with two people who seemed pretty mad at him. He knew why King was mad at him. But O too? He wasn’t used to living with two pissed off women. If she was here, Chessie would’ve spoken to him. Or at least he assumed she would. He was tired of all of the awkwardness. He just wanted to break the silence with O. There was only so much quietness that he could take before he felt like he was going to explode. He was desperate for interaction. “You know, one of these days, I could make gyros for all of us. Have you ever had one?” It was a Greek dish that had made it’s way to the states, but he didn’t know her eating habits. “As a thank you for letting me stay here.” He added. He was staying here on free room and board. Who knew how long that was going to last?

quinnxarchibald‌:

Quinn couldn’t believe that this was happening, that this was his life. If it had been any other day or any other event, he might have played it cool, acted like none of this bothered him. Tonight though, with alcohol running through his veins, Quinn didn’t care about the consequences. As soon as Ben spoke, as soon as he tried to act as if nothing had happened, as if the past two years were nothing, Quinn saw red. Before he knew it, he’d already drawn his his fist back before letting it connect with Ben’s face. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He practically yelled as he took a step back from Ben, mind still reeling. He couldn’t believe that Ben would walk in here acting like he hadn’t ruined Quinn’s life, like he hadn’t just disappeared and left Quinn to fight on his own.

He knew Quinn pretty well. Ben thought his own face was safe. “Fuck,” He said, cupping his face as soon as he felt the skin split open. He wasn’t sure what the hell to do now. Ben wasn’t going to hit him back, not when he deserved it. However, a part of him felt his fists tensing up. They were supposed to be talking this out, not using their fists. 

Ben wiped off the blood on his white cuffs, not caring if he ruined them or not. He should’ve blended in with the damn walls as soon as he spotted Quinn. He always pinned Quinn as a lover and not a fighter. That shows how much he knew about him now. He wanted to egg Quinn on more, knowing that he deserved it. A part of him hoped he’d feel less guilty once Quinn was done. But what was a good fight without Ben at least hitting him once? As soon as Benjamin made contact with Quinn’s, he immediately regretted it. “Shit, are you alright?”

wrenabernathy‌:

Wren knew the appropriate response was to say he’d prefer beer, but he didn’t. And, when he was feeling fine he could easily just agree with what he should like best and leave it at that, but when he was stressed he slid into type A personality overdrive and he followed his daily schedule even tighter than usual. “I’d have to go with the milk, actually,” he said, but then gave an apologetic smile to the other - letting him know non-verbally that he wasn’t trying to be a buzzkill on purpose. “Anyway, uhm - Chessie told me you’ve been holed up here for the past few weeks. How’s that going? Did she and Ophelia drive you crazy yet?”

What was with no one around here liking beer? He just figured that he was extremely cultured compared to the rest of them. “You’d voluntarily drink milk? Only nutcases do that,” He added. “Are they supposed to be driving me crazy? I’ve tried to not be too much of an intrusion on them since this is their place.” Ben tried to be as respectful as he could in their penthouse. He felt like an intrusion less now but O still scared him a bit. He was getting along with Chessie pretty well. “I’m just thankful for a bed and some coffee in the morning. Your sister’s a pretty good house host.”

oatanas‌:

O’s facial expression slipped to one of amusement and disbelief momentarily but she recovered quickly. “Yeah, I mean, that’s what happens when you go off and do your own thing for a few years, anyway.” She didn’t mention the fact that people more or less thought of him as a ghost these days. Someone they thought was gone forever and who had magically shown up out of the blue again. Not that it mattered to her, anyway. She knew that there was history between him and Quinn but the details were unknown and truth be told she barely knew him before he left. “I do say so. Now what you guys do owe me for is not inviting me to the wedding, and especially for not letting me design my best friend’s wedding dress.” While O is joking and more or less over the fact, that wasn’t going to stop her from being dramatic about it until the day she died. “Another drink would be great.” How many was that now? Didn’t matter, did it? “What about you?” 

Going to Europe meant that the expectations for him were thrown out of the window. He was free. There was no looking back for him. Well, if it wasn’t for Quinn and his own wrongdoing to the poor man. “It was amazing. Not going abroad because I had to or for a family vacation was exactly what I needed. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Would he really leave Quinn high and dry like that again? “In our defense, we were pretty much the only two people there,” He liked that they pretty much eloped. He liked the spontaneity that their relationship had. “And the goat farmer, but that’s because he officiated it,” Who even knew a goat farmer could officiate a wedding? “It wasn’t like Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s wedding or anything.” In fact, he thought it was way more intimate and special than that. The least he could do for O was get her another drink. “Trust me, I could always use another drink. I’m just trying to get used to these parties again.” He admitted. 

seboriley‌:

Sebastian stares… and stares… and stares some more. Finally, he works up enough energy to blink his eyes—more a harsh squint, like he’s trying to recalibrate—and maintain a pained expression on his face. “Okay,” he says finally, raising his palms as if to seize the moment with the gesture. “It is way too early in the night for you to start getting philosophical—wait… What does being American have to do with understanding time? Is it because we don’t have Big Ben staring us in the face like they do in Europe? ‘Cause we’ve got a big Ben of our own.” With that, he delivers two swift, feather-light jabs to Ben’s gut, grinning and chuckling to himself before reconnecting some… now awkward eye contact. “You want some tequila shots?”

Was he getting theoretical already? Someone should tell Ben that he wasn’t Aristotle. “Fuck, stop me. Don’t let me start telling you shit until I’m a few bottles in.” He was dead serious, Ben only wanted to be a philosopher when he was wasted. He then stared at Sebastian, wishing that he had made a different pun. No one joked about the Big Ben like that in England. “I’m a lot younger than that tower.” He had a dry sense of humor for the most part, and really only laughed at the expense of others. "Do you have any limes? I’m not sure my mouth can handle tequila without it.” Say what you want but that shit hurt.  

iamrenanpacheco

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.”

He felt like human wrapping paper wearing his festive suit. If he was put under the tree, he could probably have passed as a present. When he was younger, he loved Christmas. Well, until his father told him that Santa wasn’t real. He was still trying to adjust back into the Upper East Side party manner. At least he had alcohol as a social lubricant. “You know kids in England leave Santa some beer. Do they not think he could get drunk?” He asked, “Imagine consuming that much alcohol in a minimal amount of time. He wouldn’t legally be allowed to fly that sleigh.”