Benvanderbilt - I Don't Care About Being Good.

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Their ex-friendship: (x)

Them now: (x)

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[text to quinn archibald]: i’m not sure you’re gonna get this. how does international work?[text to quinn archibald:] i’m in italy rn. spur of the moment trip.[text to quinn archibald]: uhh good luck. 

arlovasquez‌:

The days crawled by with little to no brightness to them; not in a physical sense but within his mind. Everything to Arlo was bleak and dark. He hadn’t smoked, painted, or done anything productive in days. This was the first day he’d actually gotten the motivation to put on regular clothes and head out for a walk.

And he walked for hours because he knew if he stopped, he wouldn’t want to keep going. But he needed to get something to drink, so he stepped inside a small coffee shop of 34th and ordered a black coffee, setting his stuff on a table near the window and gazing out.

“Fuck.”

It was just by coincidence that he had spotted Arlo. In fact, Ben wouldn’t dare set his feet in a “hipster” coffee shop. He was too good for New York Hipsters. However, he stopped in his tracks when he saw Arlo. Before he could stop himself, he was inside. And approaching the other man. 

“Arlo.” He stated, “You look worse than I do.” He wanted to ask how he was since everything went down. He hadn’t spoken much to anyone since the arrest. Maybe that was because he was also keeping himself in isolation. “How are you?” He finally blurted after the internal struggle his brain was creating inside. “How’s your place since everything went down?” He didn’t remember much about the cops coming in but he figured it would’ve been left a mess from them at least.

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 as he continued to pull Ben to the side, into an empty area of the house. “Nope. You’re not getting out of this. Don’t worry. I got the punching out of my system. Sorry about that by the way.” He replied, nodding toward the brunet’s face. Pausing for a moment to recollect his thoughts, Quinn continued, glaring at Ben as he did. “I’m still so fucking pissed at you. I had to hear from Gossip Girl that you were back. Do you know how shitty that is? You didn’t reach out to me once. Not even when you were back in New York. What the fuck?”

It was a shitty thing to do. Ben knew that. “What did you want me to do? Just show up at wherever you’re living and surprise you?” He asked rhetorically. “I came back. And I came back for you, okay?” Ben needed to do this on his own terms. “But seeing you and saying what I want to say and need to say is a lot harder than practicing in the fucking mirror.” He admitted, looking past Quinn. He couldn’t look him in the eyes right now. He wasn’t ready for this. 

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. 

nathaliexkirbey‌:

With a halfhearted smile at the barista in front of her, Nathalie handed over her money with one hand while the other clenched her phone a bit too tightly. Hanging up from a phone call with her mother where she endured the same questions about her wedding that she’d been answering for months already, all she could look forward to was getting a bit of caffeine in her system so she could keep her eyes open for longer than ten minutes. While she was waiting for her coffee to be handed over to her, she felt like someone was standing close behind her and when she turned her head to ask them to take a step back, recognized them. “Could you move back a bit?” Nat asked. “You’re hovering.”

Ben was a coffee guy now. He hadn’t been before Europe, but during that excursion he realized that most Europeans drink coffee religiously and smoke socially. Both habits he had picked up there. Wanting to get his fix, mixed with a lack of understanding personal space, he was fidgeting behind someone as he waited for his coffee. “Shit, sorry,” Of course he made a bad impression on a Kirbey. He was trying so hard for King, but this was hard for him. Immediately, he smiled at her, trying to keep the mood light. “Next time you can just push me back, I wouldn’t mind,” He said with a shrug. “What kind of coffee are you waiting for?”

chessieabernathy‌:

“We do,” she clarifies with a nod, “S’like the we’re the royal family when we’re in Alabama. Paparazzi crashed by tenth birthday party.” Chessie shrugged at his comment, before rolling her eyes at him. The latter was becoming common practice when it came to Ben, the motion never meant maliciously. “You missed the giant FREYA billboard with my face on it in Time Square, didn’t you?” She asked with a laugh, taking a sip of her drink. “I technically have a body guard, you know. The FREYA board’s worried I’ll get jumped my some insta-stalker, or something.” Chessie hadn’t spoken much about the former, finding it stranger to think of herself as an object rather than a person. “I gave him the night off, though.” The mention of the connection between gin and psychopaths pulls a loud bark of laughter from her, “Well, shit, B. Just call me Norman fuckin’ Bates, then.” 

“They were really on your ass. And that’s why I never want to live in the South,” He joked. Of course, if he did, he wouldn’t have been royalty like Chessie but he wouldn’t have been happy if anyone crashed his tenth birthday party. Or any party for that matter. “You’re lucky if I even look up. I don’t think I’ve taken in New York since I was twelve.” Everything felt old to him. Not to mention he avoided Times Square at all costs. “I’ve noticed most people in New York mind their own business unless they’re a crazed tourist. That’s who you probably have to worry about the most.” He looked at her with a tilted head, “You wish you were Norman Bates,” He laughed, “I’m not sure you could pull that off, Chessie. Not gonna lie. Would you be that dedicated to pretending to be your mother as well?” His filter was pretty much gone at this point.

ask me unconventional/random “TOP 3/5/10″ end of the year lists!

taterodriguez‌:

Tate was sure that when he spoke of unfinished business to attend to that it had something to do with Quinn and that Tate would get some type of earful about it later this evening.  “That doesn’t sound fun,” Tate said simply.  “You should come to a party because you want to, not because you feel like you have to.  It’s an opportunity to have fun and let loose,” Tate sipped from their glass again.  “Honestly.  Not a whole lot.  Running a restaurant, writing books, you know… nothing too exciting.”

“Wife?  You’re married?”  Tate gave a raise of their brow.  The last thing Tate would’ve expected Ben to return home with was a wife, if at all.  “I mean, O has a pretty big heart, so that doesn’t surprise me at all.  It’s good that you had somewhere to stay when you got back, though.”  Tate should get an award for the amount of civility they’ve been able to maintain because they’d imagined the day that Ben had the gall to return and what would happen.  But, they’d leave that to their brother.  “I’m sure she’ll find me somewhere,” Tate chuckled.  “I don’t mind.  You’re more than welcome to stay.”

“I haven’t been in the partying mood since I’ve been back here,” He admitted, “I’ll make a real appearance when I’m ready. I’m not prepared for all of the questions that people are going to ask,” They were so accomplished compared to Ben. All he did was travel, meanwhile, they had been doing actual shit. “Good for you. I’ll have to try out the restaurant one of these days. Although, I’m expecting some sort of special treatment when I’m there,” He was fully joking, he figured no one around here would ever give him special treatment again. Especially if Tate knew what he did to Quinn. 

He forgot that not everyone knew that. “Yeah, thanks to the dude that officiated it in Greece, he married me and King,” They arrived in New York without securing a place to live so it was really lucky that O took both of them in. “Thank you, I appreciate that. Do you want another drink?”

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?”