Quinnxarchibald‌:

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.

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. 

planning on running back to europe now that something has gone wrong?

“Where I go is none of anyone’s business.” He answered. He was a bit defensive when it came to running away. Yes, he was a wimp when it came to facing his consequences but that was for him and only him to admit to himself. “Right now, I’m staying here.” He was at least going to finish what he started here. Beyond that was a mystery to him. “I don’t know who this concerns anyways.” He’d keep King in the loop and well, anyone else didn’t matter. “Thanks for the concern, though.” 

chessieabernathy‌:

Chessie couldn’t help but find it ironic, at how many people chose to dress as ‘saints’, herself included. She’d settled on a white dress, unable to stop herself from staring at the other guests who took the theme a bit more literally – Donning angel wings, halos, horns, the like. It didn’t take her long to find Ben, who seemed to have the same idea she did regarding a costume. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as he spoke, “Living in Europe really made a douche, you know that?” Chessie lets out without question, a laugh following before taking a sip of her drink. “I think I’ll stick to my gin and sense of time.”

He enjoyed his routine morning smoke with Chessie for the past few weeks that he and King had been here. Maybe it was the bond of smoking that brought them together. However, he did like to poke fun at her. “Do you really think you should be wearing white?” He chuckled. “I don’t think it was living in Europe that really made me one,” He pretty much credited all that to where and how he was raised. “Gin makes me black out. Beer, on the other hand, is a social lubricant.” He tried to reply convincingly. “Weren’t you abroad for a bit? Shouldn’t you know that?”

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?”

Bemelman’s was always full of tourists who wanted in on a hitting up the bar scene. To Ben, that was perfect. He was tired of the looks, the whispers. He told himself he didn’t care about any of that, but that was far from the truth."I’m over everyone staring at me,” He mumbled, looking at the drink in front of him. “Tell me something though,” He said, turning his whole body with him as he spoke. “Why does beer always taste a lot better from the bottle rather than from the tap? I feel like I’m drinking expired apple juice.” He noted, giving his head a shake in disappointment.

monty-santos‌:

“I don’t know, not all mall Santas are that way.  Or I”m assuming, I don’t actually know,” Monty shrugged, though he couldn’t really imagine places hiring drunks for a job that required them to be around children all day, “I don’t think so, it’s jsut for the donkey.  Though any kid who sends letters to Santa gets a response, which I think is pretty cool.” 

He was just going by the reputation that mall Santas had. They were always a version of a bum. “Who the hell is writing all of those letters back to those kids?” Someone had way too much time on their hands. “I think France should be focusing on other things, if it were up to me,” Then again he wasn’t in the French Parliament. “I spent some time there, I would know. They also aren’t huge fans of Americans, especially when I told them that I was from the City.” 

Shit’s fucked. Which was why Ben was spending so muchctime away from O’s place. He knew King was upset with him. He should’ve known what vices he’d get into as soon as he stepped on the dirty concrete for the first time in two years. Now, he was right near Central Park, a place he hadn’t been to in years, looking at The Pond. Ben was extremely neurotic but sometimes watching water calmed him down to a certain extent. His impulsiveness pretty much trumped everything else. 

“Is it acceptable to go skinny dipping in January?” The lake looked a bit gross, but he’d do it. “I’ll give these tourists something that they’ll really remember.” Due to global warming, the body of water was pretty peaceful looking right now with no signs of ice. “I’d suggest going ice skating but I don’t think that’d work.” 

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(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?