Arlovasquez‌:

kirbcy‌:

“Then don’t,” Bishop said with a jerk of his head. The word help ground under Bishop’s skin and he laughed, shaking his head, his hand splaying as he gestured. “I don’t want or need your help, Vanderbilt. I’ll say it again, just because you married a blood relative of him, that doesn’t mean anything. Water is thicker than blood for you two, that’s clear. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I don’t trust either of you, so just save me the bullshit. You want to small talk, fine, but don’t pretend like you give a shit about me.” Bishop was tired of the fake friends and fake shit, at least when people unbridledly hated him he knew that it was real.

He was right to not trust Ben. Ben wasn’t trustworthy, he knew that. He wished that life was too short to hold grudges because he knew people had plenty of them against him. And now, Bishop was one of them. “Look, I’m not here to be all buddy-buddy with you,” So maybe at first he was but not now. “I mean I’m not pretending. You are King’s little brother whether you acknowledge it or not,” And he did care about family, “I give plenty of shits about you.” How did Ben even express that he cared? “I know shit is fucked right now and we were never really close but let me hear about your problems. Hell, take all your problems out on me.”

rowan-tandel‌:

send me a ★ for a facebook status from my muse to yours

send me a ☂ for three tweets from my muse directed at your muse

send me a ▲ for an instagram picture from my muse about your muse

send me a ✿ for a snapchat from my muse to yours

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

send me a ☏ for one voicemail left by my muse on your muse’s phone

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

quinnxarchibald‌:

“I dunno, called me? Sent me a facebook message? Something!” Quinn replied, throwing his hands in the air in frustration and surrender. “Why? Why did you come back for me? Wasn’t leaving bad enough?” He snapped. “You had your life over in Europe, why throw that away?” He then asked, hating that Ben wasn’t looking at him. Hating that this was what their relationship had become. He needed answers though and couldn’t wait for Ben to be ready to talk.

“I don’t use social media and I didn’t know if your number was the same,” It was a lame excuse but he figured it was also better to talk to him in person. “Because I screwed you over, Quinn. That’s why. I fucked your life up,” He admitted, “That night... what I asked you to do, it’s all I can think about.” It was eating him up inside. It took months and months of convincing. He knew that talking to Quinn was eventually going to happen. He just didn’t want to do it at a party.

@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. 

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.”

quinnxarchibald‌:

Quinn was starting to feel thoroughly overwhelmed as he walked through the unfamiliar rooms, making small talk with people he really wanted to avoid. He had no idea how he’d ended up on the guest list, or how he’d been convinced to go to the party in the first place but here he was, trying not to sulk in a corner. He’d already seen Wren and had been busy trying to stay out of his way. Seeing the other male made his stomach twist in painful ways that made him want to drown himself in whatever the closest alcohol was.

After another near run in with his ex, Quinn was on his way to the bar when he ran into someone he felt stupid for forgetting. Ben. Of course Ben was here. Chessie had told him that the brunet was living with her and here Quinn was, being an idiot and walking right into the house. 

It took a moment for everything to sink in, for Ben’s words to really register, but once they did, Quinn’s eyes narrowed and he scoffed. “Yeah, it does. Are you gonna runaway this time too?” He asked coldly.

He felt like Quinn was closer to him than his own brother at one point. Until Ben fucked it all up. When he was a damsel in distress, Quinn swooped in and saved him. He literally risked his reputation for Ben and Ben paid it back by leaving the country. It was something that seemed right at the time to him. Now looking at Quinn, he knew it was all wrong. He tarnished their friendship. 

He nodded at Quinn’s comment, knowing that he deserved it at the very least. Ben deserved a lot more than that. Honestly, he would’ve run away if there was any room to. However, he felt virtually trapped. 

“No, I’m not,” He replied as he wiped his hand down his cheek nervously. Ben should have told him that he was back in town. Now here they were and he was feeling as tense as ever. Ben wanted to tell him how he should’ve mentioned he was back in town but he was too much of a coward. Instead, he’d continue with the small talk. “How has the city been treating you?”

monty-santos‌:

“It’s just a mass-produced postcard type thing that the post office makes, so it’s nothing fancy,” Monty pointed out with a little shrug, “But I think it depends on what you’re doing there.  I actually lived mostly in France for nine years after high school and I found that if you tried speak the language and learn the customs and don’t just do the tourist thing they weren’t as ugh it’s an American.”

“Well, of course, they liked you. You’re Monty Santos. I can’t imagine anyone not liking you,” He admitted. Who could ever say something bad about Monty? Not him. “It probably didn’t help that I was inebriated most of the time. I wasn’t sober enough to understand their customs. Not to mention I never really paid attention in French. I just know how to tell them that I don’t know. You, on the other hand, you must’ve been very popular there.”

bishopkirbcy‌:

There was not edge to Bishop’s voice when he glanced to his brother in law in question, “Do you ever not do that? The professor and holier-than-thou routine?” Ben wouldn’t be wrong if he voiced his opinions that Bishop wanted little and less to do with him. But here he was, for whatever reason. Maybe he felt bad, who knew. Not even Bishop really knew at this moment, there seemed to be no ulterior motives. “Entertaining, yes, but then everyone would have a picture proof of your dick size, the shape and everything and some things are better left up to the public’s imagination.”

"It’s how I talk,” He said with a shrug. “If you don’t like it, no one’s stopping you from walking away.” He was done trying to impress King’s family. That shit was so far out the door. He had better things to worry about. “Do you always have this ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude?” He asked back, “I wouldn’t mind proving I have a big dick, though. I know I’m small but I know how to carry around a package.”

monty-santos‌:

“I guess that we’ve got some very different philosophies there because I don’t think that I do anything just to see if I actually can,” Monty chuckled, though that was really a concept that he’d never really been a fan of.  He’d always been the kind of person who never really thought to take more than he needed.  “Just because he did that doesn’t mean that the history isn’t here. And I think everyone would rather not have the tourists here, but it’s just a part of living in New York. You just have to find the best places to hide from them.”

Monty was way too good. A part of him wanted to see if he could corrupt him but another part of him wanted Monty to always remain the same. It was a mystery to him how Monty was raised here and yet he was so freaking good and innocent. Ben could not relate. “I always like to do things that people tell me I can’t do. Reverse psychology works too well on me.” He admitted with a chuckle. “It’s just annoying when they stop in the middle of the street,” Ben said with frustration.“Have you ever been to Dive 75? I bet tourists don’t go there.” 

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.