Chessieabernathy‌:

quinnxarchibald‌:

@benvanderbilt

While the night had started out quite poorly, Quinn couldn’t help but feel that things were looking up. He felt like he could rule the world, like he could do anything. Rationally, he knew that was the coke running though his veins but it didn’t stop him from still feeling invincible. Meandering through the halls, not caring who saw his bruised face, Quinn explored. He wasn’t sure why he’d been so worried before about everything. It seemed so small, so insignificant. Quinn could take on anything, including Ben. 

As he thought this, Quinn stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening before he turned on his heels and made his way back through the apartment. After a few minutes he found who he was looking for. Ben. Not caring about who the other male was talking to, Quinn grabbed the brunet’s arm and pulled him aside. “We need to talk.” He demanded.

Ben’s attention moved towards Quinn as he pulled Ben away. Fuck, he hoped he wasn’t going to hit him again. He didn’t want to fight him again. The last thing Ben wanted to do was hurt Quinn even more. He looked up at the other man, studying everything about his demeanor. 

Why did that need to talk? He had nothing to say to Quinn. He had nothing he could actually say to Quinn. “Do you really think that’s a good idea to do here?” He asked, wanting to delay their conversation to another day.

You ever get in a Mood where you just wanna poof off to another country, erase your history, re-write your identity, and become a mysterious figure who’s never been photographed but occasionally appears in paintings done by unknown artists

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.”

monty-santos‌:

“Well…” Monty said as he tried to think, trying to think of suggestions other than his usual of volunteering.  “Typically what I do is go to the library and get a couple of books, which tends to work for me. Or we could wander around and see what sort of things we can find, I used to do that all the time when I had days off in France.”

Of course, Monty would suggest books. Unfortunately, Ben hadn’t leisurely read in years. He never really was a book fanatic, to begin with. Mainly because he associated books with school. And doing schoolwork was not fun, in his opinion. “How many books do they let you take out at a time?” He inquired, mainly because he pictured Monty with a dozen books at a time. Ben’s ears perked up when he mentioned France. “As long as we avoid Times Square, I would be up for an adventure,” It would be good to get his mind off of everything. “When do you think we’ll be rid of all these tourists? Don’t they have jobs?”

buffy-seymour‌:

Bottle of Malibu in hand, Buffy pushed her way through the crowd. With recent events, she was in desperate need of damage control. Which was why she was wearing white to a party. Luckily this early in the night it was easy enough to duck out of the way of swinging beer cups but the difficulty was only going to increase the more she emptied her own bottle. Her eyes settled on a familiar face and Buffy slid up beside them, a wide smile stretched across her lips. “Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Now on his second beer, Ben turned towards Buffy. He was not someone she really kept up with, she wasn’t part of a legacy family on the Upper East Side. “Wow, you seem very excited,” Ben joked, “Was 2018 that rough for you?” He asked. He honestly wasn’t sure he wanted to leave 2018, he hated odd years. At least they had a few more hours left of 2018. 

kingkirbey‌:

“I wouldn’t be surprised considering you’re already halfway there.” King chuckled and ran a hair through her husband’s dark mane, giving him a smile so he knew she was kidding. She was well used to his excess of hair by now and in all honesty, she was a pretty big fan of it. It made him look scholarly, or so she liked to think. “Well, people who make resolutions are exactly the type of people I don’t ever want to be in the presence of, so maybe we should dip out early.” The prospect of leaving early intrigued her, but these days, that wasn’t a surprise. Would they ever manage to go to a party without complaining and wanting to go home a few minutes in? “Traveling through the city pre-ball drop is probably not going to be an option, though.”

He knew she liked his hair and honestly, that’s what really mattered. “You’re supposed to tell me how handsome I look,” He joked, it wasn’t like he didn’t know that she liked it. His hair wasn’t really something that those on the Upper East Side donned although it wasn’t like that really mattered to him. As far as he was concerned, New York seemed pretty foreign to him at this point. Hopefully, he would be able to make amends with Quinn and they’d be back and traveling in no time. “There are probably plenty of people who already have here. At least we know resolutions aren’t real. That’s one of the many reasons why I love you,” He pointed out, “I’m sure we could find a place to eat some burgers too.” Okay, he really missed American burgers. And sure he tried not to eat red meat but it was New Year’s Eve. “That sounds like my ideal New Year’s Eve.” As long as he was with her, his night would be the best. It was so easy to be around her. “Not unless we take the subway,” He suggested, “Even Spain’s metro is better than ours,” He pointed out before continuing, “Or do you think people are partying it up down there as well?”

seboriley‌:

“That is what I’m here for, my friend,” Sebastian assures, clapping his hand down hard on Ben’s shoulder blade, tapering it off with a couple more pats as he prepares a couple of the aforementioned shots with two easy pours. Well, easy if you didn’t pay too much mind to the little puddle forming beneath them, slicking up the bottoms of the glasses. “I’m a lot younger than that tower,” Seb mocks, feigning a cheap English accent he’s definitely learned from Harry Potter marathons. “Ugh. Can’t it be your New Year’s resolution to take shots without a chaser or something? I’m getting very tired of tracking them down for you.” His temper dissipates just as quickly as it forms, though, and he’s already turning towards the kitchen to start a hunt for limes, shot glasses balanced between his thumb and forefinger on either hand. “But, since it’s the holidays, I’ll make an exception.”

He wanted to be as drunk as Sebastian was at this point. A shot or two would for sure send him that way. “You need to work on your accent.” Ben could probably do a better accent than him at this point.  “Can it be your resolution to stop complaining so much? I’m asking for one thing. It’s good that you’re exercising that brain of yours.” He teased. If Sebastian was going to tease him, he was going to do it right back. “I’ll take pretty much anything at this point, my regard for taste is going out the window.” 

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.” 

finnsmythe‌:

“I didn’t know that, but that’s super interesting,” he said, sipping his own drink. “Maybe Santa can’t get drunk. Maybe because he’s immortal, his body temperature is too high and just burns off the alcohol immediately.” Finn was probably thinking too much into it. “If Santa goes to America first, though, he’ll have a nice cookie base to soak it up. I’m pretty sure the reindeer do most of the flying anyway.”

A part of him was a bit jealous of Finn. Not that he’d ever show it. Ben didn’t get jealous. He didn’t even tell his mother that he was back nor did he feel the need to. If anything, he pitied Finn. Yep, that was it. “He’d go to the UK first, South and North America are the last places that he goes to. At least that’s what it says on the Santa Tracker every year. He’d probably mix up gifts and things once he arrived over here,” It felt weird talking about an imaginary figure. He wanted to ask how his mom was. However, Ben looked down at his feet instead. “How’s... your drink? How’s your drink?” He asked, much more smoothly the second time.