Benvanderbilt - I Don't Care About Being Good.

text @ everyone (wren's entire contact list)

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

Ben: what the hell is this??

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.”

monty-santos‌:

“That actually sounds pretty dangerous, but considering the magic involved I’m sure that if Santa were real there’d be some sort of spell that kept him from blacking out,” Monty shrugged, “though in France the kids fill their shoes with carrots because Santa has a donkey instead of reindeer. Which I guess is a lot healthier than the options they give everywhere else.”

"It wouldn’t be much of a stretch from mall Santa’s,” Ben added, “I feel sorry for whoever’s forced to sit on their laps,” One of the perks of growing up wealthy was never having to sit on a sketchy man’s lap. “Do you know what they give Santa or does just his donkey get stuff?” He asked.

kingkirbey‌:

King watched Ben work himself into a state, hating how helpless she felt. As much as she wanted to tell him that Quinn would eventually forgive him — that he had to — she knew her words would be empty. Quinn was practically a stranger to her, she knew only as much about him as Ben had told her, and she definitely didn’t know how quick he would be to forgive something that had taken such a toll on his life. “Being here is trying. And if he doesn’t see that you’re doing what you can to make it right, maybe his friendship isn’t meant to be.” King hated to be so blunt about the situation, but in her eyes it was the truth. If Quinn couldn’t see the obvious effort Ben was making to make things right, then screw him. “As much as I would really, really love that, I think it would be rude of us to ditch this party when the hostess’ are letting us crash in their guest room and drink all of their coffee for free. But we could take shots out here until your face doesn’t hurt anymore?” Moving to the counter, she plucked a bottle of tequila from the mess of half empty alcohol bottles held it up with a triumphant smile. “Isolating ourselves in the kitchen doesn’t technically count as ditching.”

Out of everyone he’s ever known, King could always cheer him right up and get him out of his own funk. Who knows where he’d be now if she didn’t find him in some shit bar in Italy? Having to accept the loss of such a close friendship wasn’t something Ben could swallow. This wasn’t supposed to end like this. Then again, what happy ending ever happened to him? “You’re right,” He admitted, at least he was offering Quinn an olive branch. It just sucked that this wasn’t going to work out. He slid off of the stool he was on and dragged his feet as he walked, “Damn us for being so polite,” He joked, “And for having a coffee addiction,” He rubbed his hands together in excitement at the mention of shots. “If we were in Germany, we’d be having Cinnamon with these shots, I miss tequila oro,” He pointed out. No one would probably miss them in here anyway. “Here’s to getting punched in the face.”

finnsmythe‌:

“Well, that would make sense if he starts there because of time zones and all that,” he shrugged. “My drink? It’s good. Chessie and O always get top shelf shit, so it’s really great whiskey to ruin with Coca Cola,” he laughed and took another sip. “Enjoying the party so far?” 

“I’m surprised it’s not rum and coke.” He knew that was an American favorite. “I’m not sure I’d say I’m enjoying it. I already got into one fight, already had one gin and tonic because they have no beer here.” He said with a shrug, “How about you? I hope it’s been better than mine.”

@kingkirbey

Being here just made the knot in his stomach worse than it had been at overseas. He’d much rather be in Greece right now, having a Piraiki than stupid liquor. He was supposed to be tying up lose ends and potentially making amends with Quinn. That shit didn’t work. Now he just felt like a spineless asshole. And when shit hit the fan, he just needed King. Ben spit onto his shirt, trying to get the blood out once he found her for the dramatic effect. “That didn’t go well,” He admitted as he looked at his wife, “I just got pummeled by Quinn. I didn’t even know he was capable of doing that,” Ben sighed as he looked past her, “Can you please tell me again why this was a good idea?” His question was geniune, the purpose of their arrival blurred over the fact that his friendship with Quinn seemed broken beyond repair.

arlovasquez‌:

“It wasn’t too busy when I was there. Or if it was, I don’t think anyone was going to push me around because I must have looked really deep in thought.” He chuckled. “I’m a firm believer that the Mona Lisa was actually da Vinci on drag. I don’t know why I believe that, but I do.”

They probably really thought you were taking a good review of the painting. Little did they know you were just high as fuck,” He joked. “What did he even look like? I always pictured him with a really long beard.” Ben said with a shrug, not that he thought of da Vinci a lot in the first place. “Is that a real theory? Honestly, I don’t even know why a portrait’s so famous.” 

chessieabernathy‌:

Chessie had come to enjoy the company of both King and Ben. And with O having been gone, she’d become accustom to sharing her coffee pot and a cigarette with Ben in the morning. She held him in high regards – Mostly because what she knew about him was second-hand from Sebastian years ago. The latter had adored the other man, so Chessie had no reason to hold a grudge. Or create one. “Craft beer?” She took faux offense to his comment about champagne, before a loud bark of laughter passed her lips. “We drink liquor in this house, Ben.”

Ben quickly shook his head at her. “Chessie.” He could barely speak, in shock that someone would insult craft beer. “Have you ever had a beer before? Because you should know nothing else compares to some ice cold beer,” He insisted. “However, if I have to have some liquor,” He tried to give a bit of a fancy accent with the last word, “I’d prefer anything but champagne. How can we make that happen?”