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&& start again

@discardtheoldregimes-blog / discardtheoldregimes-blog.tumblr.com

Bentley Morrill. 30. Survivor. Carries a hatchet. Has a weakness for Red Hots. *Indie OC for TWD FC: Jackson Rathbone
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                                  whispers into the void:                                            Does anyone but me miss this guy?

#outofredhots
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goxinsane

goxinsane:

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Lillian herself had travelled near and far for a read worthy story. Sometimes she’d worry enough that she’d believe that’s she would be out of a job soon enough, even before she could plead with the words “Give me one more day and I’ll find a good story.” There was plenty around, decent ones that is. But one thing out of walking around the streets in the mornings for air and a fresh cup of coffee was that there had always been on thing that caught her eye. 
Everyday she had seen this man, playing in the market with his guitar. To her he just seemed like a decent bloke, not one for a big high end job, or lack or money but enough to just get out there and play- see what happens. Lillian wasn’t used to her surroundings, with a job as a journalist it required the woman to have to move a lot. She was alone, away from her life with her parents in England. It hadn’t bothered her as much, she was too preoccupied on the job rather than to seek a relationship. But one day, one day it could happen. 
As she walked, she stumbled upon seeing the man again, playing his heart out. With the change she had, she gently squeezed her way through people to place the bills in the case, along with a flashing and genuine smile to the man. Although her own self had begun to get nervous, she still attempted to be nice. Lillian stood there, tapping her feet to the music as she grabbed out her buried pen and pad from her purse. Her own self looked casual, not too precise and posh but enough to see like a nice lady. She waited upon for him to be done before asking an itching questing. He was indeed her next big story, or so she hoped. What was the difference between him and other musicians? Perhaps it was the fact that the others gave up after awhile. Lillian wasn’t going to assume. 

It was easy to recognize the hustle and bustle of the crowds now, familiar faces within it - a couple that would meet up at the coffee shop every morning at precisely 8:15 - the businessman that always gripped his briefcase too tightly as he nearly barreled through others on the sidewalk. The woman that looked like she was searching for something - What, Bentley wasn't certain... but he knew that look. His had mirrored it not long ago. It was this morning, however, that she had placed a few bills in his case - seemingly now, waiting for him to finish up his number. Curious. Still, he was grateful for her tip -- and flashed her a smile to say so as he sang.

Finishing up, Bentley thanked anyone that was lingering about listening to him. There weren't many, but that didn't matter to him. He wasn't particularly looking for fame - just making someone feel something with the notes he plucked. The lady though, was still there, pen and paper in hand.

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"You alright?" He asked, crouching down for a moment to pick out the coins and bills in his case in exchange for laying his guitar down and snapping it shut. Squinting a little in the sunlight, he gave her a smile, "Need directions to somewhere? I don't know everything but I'll do the best I can."

#goxinsane#v:before#;happy just to be there
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mostloquaciousarchive-blog-deac

muse a is a new single father, a teenager at that living in an apartment complex with his newborn. it’s one of those apartment complexes in new york city, where everyone kind of keeps to themselves. muse b lives on his floor and has heard this newborn baby crying at ungodly hours, distracting her from her cramming for midterms. she had complained to the landlord about it and one night, she hears the baby crying again. stepping outside in a fit of rage, muse b is about to yell at whoever is the parent to this bastard child until she spots muse a, pacing the hallway with the child in his arms, his hair disheveled and his eyes giving away the sleep he’s been lacking. she feels sympathy instantly; she had no idea muse a lived on her floor, much less was he the father of this child. so, at 3 in the morning, muse b offers to help muse a get the baby back to sleep. and muse b becomes some sort of baby whisperer to muse a, and he continues to go to her for help and they start to dig each other and this is just so cute please

***you can completely switch the genders it works either way, m/f m/m f/f whatever you wish!!!

#I love single dad bentley. cause he adopts a little one in one of my verses. HIT ME UP.#though not a teen. BUT STILL YEASSS
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discardtheoldregimes-blog
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betterluckwithabeer

                                So that which is GOOD may f l o u r i s h                                                                       [Originally est January 2014]                                                                   

#once more with feeling
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betterluckwithabeer

                                So that which is GOOD may f l o u r i s h                                                                       [Originally est January 2014]                                                                   

#promo#[queue ball]
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