jaydrawsart:

Every day he was there. A boy with no known name, eyes like bowls of milk, and with a soft singing voice that lulled in even the toughest people of the city. You’d pass him daily when heading to the closest cafe to home to catch a view of the wondering citizens and a warm cup of brew over a piece of homework or one of your short stories, but over months you began obsessively watching him. Who was he? Why was he there so often? You were left to wonder as you’d took note to his guitar case holding only maybe three or four dollars a day. From the way he always looked, its like he slept in a pile of news papers and dirt.

Please full view!

I was working on an AU last night for homeless Cronus and hipster writer Eridan who’s aggressively trying to figure that guy out without directly talking to him. Feel free to ask about the AU if you want to know more.