#tsymstarter

[marryy-bowderxoxo]

Text: Open

Liz: So i'm lost...HELP?

[therhettlandon-blog]

“And I think that, maybe, the best thing would be to --” A loud crash sounded on the other side of the street. Despite Everett’s knowledge that the noise’s source was probably something mundane, he jumped, voice cutting off in the middle of his sentence. It had been years, two to be exact, since he’d returned home and yet, even with counseling and self-help books, he was unable to shake the effect sudden loud noises had on him. Anything unexpected  -- a dog’s bark, thunder, the clatter of shattering glass -- sent his mind reeling. The former soldier glanced over his shoulder at the commotion before attempting to refocus his gaze on the person he’d been speaking with. He feigned composure, yet his panicked eyes and clenched fists told all. “S-sorry, I... um. What?”

[marryy-bowderxoxo]

Worst thing when you move...you have absolutely no food in your house. It sucks,  But i’m Elizabeth, nice to meet you. 

[itsbenjistone-blog]

Taste of the Night | Subplot Para

                        Ben hated going out. He hated the noise of the bar and the sound of shouting, laughter and screams that filled his ears as the music pulsed loudly through his body. He hated his coworkers and their loud guffaws of laughter. They could be back at the morgue right now, there were four funerals tomorrow that they had to get bodies to, and none of them were done. If he had any hope of becoming a coroner like he wanted to be, Benjamin knew he needed to work at this like crazy. But he also knew he needed these people. They called him friend, and he hoped one day he could say the same for them. So he downed three shots in the first fifteen minutes, following those up with two rum and cokes and some fruity drink a man down the bar bought for him and then stumbled off to the bathroom.

          Returning was the worst part. He ran his hand against the wall, head down as music counted to pound through him, finding his way to the small messy table in the corner of the bar. But it was empty. It took him a minute to realize this, sitting, eyebrows drawn together, Ben looked around the table, trying to find what it was that was bugging him about the sticky mess. Then, it dawned on him, and he dug into his pockets for his wallet, his phone. Clicking the home button repeatedly on his cracked phone, Benjamin realized that it was dead. He then checked his wallet. Only a twenty. Stumbling outside, Ben found a seat on a bird shit stained bench, putting his head in his hands and waiting for something, someone, anything, honestly.

[decidentis-blog]

“Who orders forty-eight assorted latte flavored cupcakes and then only decides to pick up fifteen right before closing? I don’t have room for any more sweets in my kitchen.”

[itsbenjistone-blog]

“Nothing good is open past midnight, so starts my dilemma. I’d kill for some pumpkin pancakes right now.”

[writingstephanieholmes-blog]

“Ah, what to do? Finish grading papers or sleep? Such a tough decision, but I think I’m gonna choose sleep.”

[arlo-banks-blog]

“Even on my days off from work, I still manage to find myself spending time in the coffee shop. I think this is a sign from above telling me I need to do other things besides work and blog.”