TITLE: Fool Me Twice, Shame On Me. LOCATION & DATE: Arlo’s Place & Early New Year’s Day (1/01/19)

kirbcy‌:

Bishop was supposed to be nice, but the feeling of even being a little tongue in cheek had long since left his demeanor. Something about Ben, standing there, pretending to even give a little of a shit fundamentally irritated the shit out of him. “Then why are you talking to me? Because here’s the way I see it, Vanderbilt. You’re attempting to do whatever this is in attempt to smooth over the fact that you married my sister without so much as a thought to her brother who may want to fucking attend. Further, I doubt you even pushed her to talk to me, or say anything, or come the fuck home. No. You don’t get to slither into my life pretending to be a friend when you’d rather remind everyone how much you’d rather be in Europe or some bullshit. Go back then. Or at least save me the act.”

“I’m not talking to you out of guilt, trust me,” Honestly, he didn’t feel bad about not pushing King to come home. Not when he didn’t want to come home in the first place. Was New York even considered home anymore? “If it makes you feel better, no one is invited,” It was a spur of the moment thing. Ben wouldn’t have wanted a wedding with family members in attendance anyway, he liked the spontaneity. “I get it, you’re pissed at her, but she really does love you,” He reminded Bishop, “I’m talking to you because you look like you could use some company, Bishop. This party’s supposed to be fun,” This was ironic considering Ben was usually the one who was being miserable. “Oh we’ll be going back, I just have to take care of a few things first. It’s nice over there since we don’t have people at our throats all the time.” If Bishop wanted to push him away, he was going to go along with it. At least he could tell King he tried.

@monty-santos

It was that strange time between Christmas and New Years Eve which meant plenty of tourists. Even on the Upper East Side. They were everywhere. Over the course of the past week, he had been thinking about Monty and his offer to volunteer. He’d never volunteer, ever. However, it didn’t hurt to at least check out one of the shelters he was talking about. And by checking out, he was just standing near it. When Ben was a bit tense, his automatic response was to take out a cigarette from his pack and light it up. He was still uncomfortable in the city, he felt like all eyes were on him. Whether that was the case or not was yet to be determined. 

Speaking of the Devil, or rather Angel in this case, Ben perked up. What were the odds? He threw his cigarette on the floor dramatically. For some reason, he wanted to be good for Monty. Or rather when he was around him. Sort of like how he was with King. He liked to think that Monty was a good influence. “Hey,” Ben tried to act casual, as if it was the norm to see him around here. “I’m really over this weather. I wouldn’t mind if the weather did a complete one eighty,” And that was true. He missed the warmth. “What are you doing around here?” He asked, hoping Monty wouldn’t inquire about him. 

finnsmythe‌:

“I don’t doubt that. You seem pretty scrappy to me,” he grinned a little. At the suggestion of a shotgun competition, Finn laughed. “Oh my god, yes! I used to do that all the time with the guys! And I did that in college before I dropped out. You’re on. If this fucking blizzard wasn’t happening, and we’d be able to get a case of beer, we’d definitely do that!” Finn was competitive as hell, and he would do all he could to win that challenge. “Yeah, we’re a thing,” he nodded. “I’ll ask O about it. See if she’d be down.”

He wasn’t scrappy. Only he was allowed to call himself that. Or King. That was about it. “I gotta compensate for the height somehow,” He wasn’t ignorant, he knew he was pretty small. “There should always be a case of beer around or a keg. I really need to show Chessie and O how Europeans party,” He thought he was better than everyone because he spent so much time abroad. It was pretty pathetic. “Maybe we could do a bar crawl.” He considered that pretty romantic. See, romance isn’t dead. 

What is your favorite holiday memory?

“My father ruined the myth of Santa Clause for me when I was six and he asked why I still believed in that man. So that Christmas, my mom must’ve told him to make it up to me and I got a Rolex because he thought that was appropriate. I was able to sell that when I was abroad and let me tell you, definitely worth it. Thanks dad.”

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

☯✉

send me a ☯ for a youtube video or vine about your muse from my muse

(x), (x), (x), (x), (x), (x), (x), (x) he is adam in this vine

send me a ✉ for three texts from my muse to yours

[the og rowan]  we have a lot to catch up on.[the og rowan] i’m glad to see you aren’t letting the ues get to you.[…][the og rowan] can you help me have a white christmas?? do you still do that? do the fight club rules still apply?

chessieabernathy‌:

Chessie couldn’t stop herself from staring out the window – Even though the sun had gone down, the city lights made it easy enough to see how much snow was beginning to pile onto the terrace. It made her nervous, filling her with dread as she thought of how she’d have to trek through it tomorrow morning. But rather than worry about what’s to come tomorrow, she saw it sit to enjoy herself tonight. “You look like you need a drink,” She comments easily to the person next to her, smirk on her face. “What’s a party without champagne?”

He forgot how commercialized Christmas was in America. People would die to spend Christmas in the City and yet he’d pretty much rather be anywhere but here. It sucked having a guilty conscience. He preferred warmer climates now, one that didn’t require him to wear so much clothing. How did she know? He did need a drink, especially to get through this party. “A good one,” He joked. “I can’t be the only one that thinks champagne tastes pretty awful. Do you have any craft beer?”

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.”

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 sounds beautiful, I’ll have to make sure to go there sometime,” Monty smiled, even though he had no idea how he would ever be able to afford it.  Though it still was on his list.  “See I don’t know if the idea of being a third wheel is super appealing, but thanks for the kinda offer,” he chuckled, “plus I didn’t really have the money to just go off and travel.  The volunteer work I did gave a little bit of a stipend, but it was mostly just for clothes and food and basic living expenses.”

“I’m really surprised you haven’t been. I feel like it’s on everyone’s bucket list,” Ben said with a shrug, “Are you sure? We’re a lot of fun. One minute we’re in Portugal and the next, we’re in Spain,” Ben exclaimed. He liked traveling and not being tied down to one city. “They should give you a nice vacation for helping out. What sort of volunteer work is it anyway?”