smoketasticman

Hold your head up high, We were born too old and afraid to die, ‘Cause the light is fading out of your eyes, I give it all, I give it all, Come on feet don’t fail me now, ‘Cause I fall too hard if I hit the ground, And these worn out souls are all broken now, I give it all, I give it all. Ooooohhhh Oooooohhhh I’m afraid, I’m afraid, I’m afraid that I’m falling apart, Oooooohhhh Ooooohhhh If I don’t see you ever again well where do I start? So come along, So come along, So come along… Paddle deep into the night, ‘Til you leave the scent of the show behind, And the great white peaks of

The whistle had been blown, the sharp, screech-like sound ripping through the clammy air at a deafening volume, yet was still distant to Felix Arvid Ulf Kjellberg's already ringing ears. To him, the outside world was nonexistent, and all that existed was him and the man whose soft, warm lips he had his own pressed tightly against, wishing to never let go, to never part. It felt like hours, yet it was only minutes. A second whistle was blown, and the guards began to call out for the two men to move apart, a few pushing through the bustling crowds and hurrying over to make sure the order was followed as the the train prepared to depart. But F

"Pewdie, bud..." It was no use. He was completely crashed out, curled up next to Cry, his sky-blue eyes tightly shut. Felix groaned, burying his face into Cry's neck, causing the brunette to blush a bright crimson beneath the stark white mask that was hiding his face. He couldn't bring himself to push the man away. They had both been sat on either side of the couch, beside each other yet at a comfortable distance. Now the two men had ended up in the current position, Felix having dozed off halfway through the movie they were watching. Cry quietly reached for the remote, switching off the TV while making sure not to wake the sleeping Swede.

“Thank you,” the young man said as I flashed him a brief smile, placing the steaming cup of coffee into his outstretched hand, his other gripped tightly onto a long white cane. Using the device to find his way around the café, he settled onto one of the couches and gently nudged the circular, dark-tinted glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose back into place. The building was empty but for me, the blind man, and a few other guests scattered here and there around the little coffee shop - it was a quiet and uneventful Tuesday. It had been in this state for a few hours now, and I wasn’t expecting any new customers a

Oliver could feel the endless miles of water sloshing below his feet through the old, wooden boarded floors of the galleon. And being more of land-person than a sea-person, this was not a feeling he wanted to experience for days on end. Certainly not in a very small, cramped area surrounded by rows of rusty metal bars, with nothing to listen to except for the constant white noise in your head. All one could do in such a situation was hope that some miracle would open a door to freedom. Except, Oliver was done with hoping, after several months of sitting in a cage in the middle of the ocean all day with no news whatsoever of where they were he