bishopkirbcy:
“How the fuck is my sister with someone as tedious as you?” The words came out before Bishop could stop them. Drugs had a habit of making him much more unfiltered than he really liked, but at least he was calling a spade a spade. Might as well go all in, “Like, I can understand not wanting to be a part of all,” Bishop gestured with his hand to the pretentious party that was unfolding before them, “this fuckery. Status symbols, the microscope. But, you’re like this hipster construct that has consumed too much kool-aid of what you think is supposed to be ‘relaxed’ and ‘cool’. It literally blows my mind that my sister married such a jerkoff.” Ben wanted to be friends, but Bishop didn’t. He figured if he just kept being his normal asshole self, it would play out like he wanted.
He watched Bishop go on a rant about him. And just like that, he felt his hand squeezing his bottle as his nostrils flared. Fuck Bishop. He knew King was out of his league, which is why he never even tried to pursue her back in the day. But running into her in Italy was no coincidence. “You know what?” He said before he paused as he moved closer towards Bishop, “You don’t have to get it but you need to accept it. I love King. It doesn’t matter what you think, or what your parents think. You can say what you want about me, but don’t say shit when you don’t even know what our relationship is like.” He didn’t care about being friends with Bishop, but he did care about King. He didn’t like anyone bashing their relationship. And if he wasn’t King’s brother, Ben would’ve thrown at least one fist towards his face already. “If I were you, I’d be there for King,” He lectured, “That’s what siblings are supposed to do.” Ben didn’t care if he was overstepping his boundaries, Bishop fucked up calling him a hipster construct.
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
quinnxarchibald:
Quinn couldn’t believe that this was happening, that this was his life. If it had been any other day or any other event, he might have played it cool, acted like none of this bothered him. Tonight though, with alcohol running through his veins, Quinn didn’t care about the consequences. As soon as Ben spoke, as soon as he tried to act as if nothing had happened, as if the past two years were nothing, Quinn saw red. Before he knew it, he’d already drawn his his fist back before letting it connect with Ben’s face.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He practically yelled as he took a step back from Ben, mind still reeling. He couldn’t believe that Ben would walk in here acting like he hadn’t ruined Quinn’s life, like he hadn’t just disappeared and left Quinn to fight on his own.
He knew Quinn pretty well. Ben thought his own face was safe. “Fuck,” He said, cupping his face as soon as he felt the skin split open. He wasn’t sure what the hell to do now. Ben wasn’t going to hit him back, not when he deserved it. However, a part of him felt his fists tensing up. They were supposed to be talking this out, not using their fists.
Ben wiped off the blood on his white cuffs, not caring if he ruined them or not. He should’ve blended in with the damn walls as soon as he spotted Quinn. He always pinned Quinn as a lover and not a fighter. That shows how much he knew about him now. He wanted to egg Quinn on more, knowing that he deserved it. A part of him hoped he’d feel less guilty once Quinn was done. But what was a good fight without Ben at least hitting him once? As soon as Benjamin made contact with Quinn’s, he immediately regretted it. “Shit, are you alright?”
what's it like being back in the city?
“It’s starting to feel like I never left. Shit goes down around here that wouldn’t happen anywhere else.” Sometimes he felt like New York was suffocating. “And it wasn’t this cold in some areas of Europe.”
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.”
kirbcy:
The moment Blur burned down was the moment that Bishop went missing. Well, in spirit. His body was present at every meeting, his mind spewing nothing but business, curbing any condolences with a glance that kept it business. His phone was a log of unanswered messages and emails from friends and family. The only hope they had was to turn it into business and he may answer, but only in regard to business. This holiday was the first time he had been to a social event since Celia’s death, and bitterness was on his tongue just like the scotch. This was an attempt to get some bearing back on his life, despite the fact that he was not ready to face any of it.
Benjamin found himself loosening his tie a bit before stretching out the kinks in his neck. He did not miss all of these people, but he sort of did miss the partying. Once he spotted Bishop, he walked right on over to him. He had a soft spot for the Kirbey’s for some reason.“Hey, Bishop,” He said nonchalantly. Ben didn’t want to sound like he was sucking up to his brother-in-law. Even if he was. Sue him for wanting to be liked. Wait, no, don’t sue him. “Are you enjoying yourself so far?”
arlovasquez:
“I mean I’m sure someone could smell it on me, but because it’s Europe, no one really cared,” he said with a smirk. “I think he did have a beard later on in life. Well, there’s a self portrait oh him with a long white beard and I assume that’s what he actually looked like at the time? But yeah, there’s a theory that the Mona Lisa is actually just da Vinci in a dress. Maybe that’s why it’s so famous? Cause I honestly don’t know either.”
“Yeah, they also smoke like chimneys over there. No one can probably smell anything.” Being European was its own culture for sure, especially being French. “I always think of that movie with the Looney Tunes because of that painting. At least I think that was a movie, I’m pretty sure I was a little out of it the first time I watched it.” He figured Arlo would know what he was insinuating. “Did they even have mirrors back then? How was he able to know what he looked like?”
chessieabernathy:
Ben didn’t pry, and Chessie gave him the same respect – It’s what made her enjoy their banter, knowing he wasn’t going to bother her about who she’d slept with recently, nor would she ask him about Quinn. She gave him an eye roll, a scoff following, as if he’d insinuated something beneath her. “I can name a few things I’d rather do than drink an ‘ice cold beer’, but I don’t want to scare the rest of the guests with graphics,” Chessie poked, before gesturing to the bar they had set up in the corner of the living room. “If you stopped your moping for half a second, you wouldn’t have missed one important detail.”
“Please don’t. Let's keep this party PG-13. It’s fine, no one around here could even come close to making the beer they had in Greece. It was amazing,” Ben was always reminiscing. “Hey, I am not moping. That’d mean that I’m trying to have a bad time and I’m not trying to have a bad time at all. I’m just waiting for the drama because I know it’s inevitable,” He considered himself above drama and all of the Upper East Side antics at this point in his life. “I guess I’m going to have to have a gin and tonic like a barbarian.” He was teasing her completely, only because he liked the wisecracks they were both able to deliver.
wrenabernathy:
Wren Abernathy had not been raised to discuss problems in public. Actually, he had not been raised to discuss problems, period. Many families tried to keep up appearances for the outside, but in the Abernathy family it went well beyond that, to the point where it had been nearly impossible for Wren to even talk to Chessie since she’d moved in with him. Of course, he checked up on her, made sure she ate and spent his evenings sitting in front of her bedroom door. But if he was being honest with himself, he’d been avoiding talking about what had happened as much as she had been avoiding him.
So, when Ben asked about her, all he did was dip his head and then look back up with what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “She’s okay,” he said, his intonation falling flat indicating Wren’s response was anything but an invitation to discuss Chessie. “How are you?” he asked, hoping that would be enough to change the subject. He liked Ben well enough, but he hadn’t exactly sought out the most clandestine table in the entire place to still have to talk about what had happened.
Despite his mother’s efforts to always tell Ben it wasn’t polite to be nosy, it never worked. He was always looking at drama from afar and never really trying to get into it himself. The latter was inevitable with a last name like Vanderbilt as well as having a knack for vices. It wasn’t his fault, it was in his blood. At least that’s what he told himself.
“Good, glad to hear that,” He caught on that this was something Wren wasn’t particularly open about talking about, which was fine. He just liked hearing that she was okay. “I’m fine. I couldn’t be better.” He lied, not wanting to delve into any more details. Ben was a private person, he was taught to swallow his problems and put on a happy face when he was growing up. That was one of the few things that carried over into adulthood for him. “How are you?” He asked, returning the gesture. “Did you have a better New Year’s than the rest of us?”
chessieabernathy:
In the short time King and Ben had lived with O and Chessie, the latter had become decently close to Ben. And after O was jetted off to international meetings and shows for two weeks, she had grown more fond of their visitors-turned-roommates, feeling as though the four were building a sibling-esque relationship. She’d begun to look forward to her morning coffee and cigarette with Ben, and while this morning was motivated by the inability to sleep, it was no exception to a rule. His words provoked an eye roll, though she didn’t fight his request – Her own headache was in full swing, as well. “I’m not sure,” Chessie responded quietly, glancing out the large balcony windows before continuing. “I’m not sure my nicotine addiction is bad enough to make me trek through snow, though.” She spoke bitterly, another eye roll following. “And going to change sounds like too much work.” Chessie couldn’t help but whine, slumping against the counter. “This coffee is so warm, I don’t know if I can move.”
He sighed at her hesitation. He’d probably go out and smoke by himself then. He was going to get a little stir crazy with all of these people in here. “Don’t be so dramatic,” He responded, which was ironic considering his own tendencies. “I’m sure it’s only a little cold out. I think you’ll be fine out there,” He gestured towards the window. “You mean your milk with a little dash of coffee.” Ever since he moved to Europe, he drank his coffee black. Everything else seemed way too weak to him now. “Put pants on and the smoke will keep you warm. I’ve needed a drag ever since I got pummeled in the face yesterday.”
quinnxarchibald:
Unable to stifle a yawn, Quinn covered his mouth with his hand before making eye contact with a person across from him. “I dunno how I’m going to make it to midnight at this rate.” He admitted with a small laugh. He’d hit a wall half an hour ago and suddenly time felt like it was stretching around him. All he wanted, at the moment, was to go back home and crawl into bed.
Ben wasn’t quite sure if Quinn was talking to him or not. Things were still unresolved with him, even after they spoke at the party. Once again, he would act as if nothing happened between the pair. “If you need to, go home. I’m sure Arlo would understand.” He responded. "Or maybe you just haven’t had enough to drink.”
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