Why do humans have to go through the nine circles of hell just to be able to fall asleep compared to how so many other animals sleep? Ten thousand turns and wiggles and limb placements later and you're still only able to fall asleep in a way that's just so... meh. Other animals magically transform into an orb for some reason and just pass out and they look SO comfy doing it too. I wanna do it too. I wanna be able to turn into a magic sleep ball and have the greatest comfiest naps ever...
Legit just a snippet of Troy with a trick. No actual smut. Was trying to get into the frame of mind where they met, because fun fact, this month as basically made delicious wreckage of all of the flashbacks that got cut from Satellite.
I’m glad they’ve found a home.
He tears eases himself away from Tyreen to go out that night.
Troy has little concept that he ‘shouldn’t’ be hooking, that his is a fool’s errand into the night.
He kisses his sister on the scars across her nose and it’s fine.
He gets something that he wants and people pay him for the privilege. Some of them pull his hair and some of them cry all over him. It’d be about the same if anybody came to him without him enticing them over vodka and streetlights.
He might have a bottle open by midnight. He might be dancing with some other person given the next thing he remembers, but the guy’s on him like a sandstorm, grabbing the bottle and trying to kiss even though they’re fresh out of a bar and it’s really late.
Troy kisses him back for the tip.
The guy is thin and tall, armed like he’s going to war despite the shine of his boots. He’s a redhead too, a real one, so far as Troy can tell, and he’s grown that hair down to his ass. His lips are so soft. He smells like sunshine on fresh dew.
As he says: “Put that thing away. I’ll buy you till dawn and the math’s whatever.”
That’s a lot of hours and a lot of incidental nonsense intruding. Troy doesn’t know if he wants this: this moment, this person, this situation between the two of them and the moths in the corners of their vision.
The guy presses closer. He smiles, imploring. “However much you want. I don’t find a lot of guys taller than me.”
He doesn’t even seem that tall, but Troy nods. He lets him take his hand.
They sway together over bugs and rotgut poured into a much nicer bottle than it once belonged to.
The guy puts hits hand to Troy’s face, tracing out the weird, sharp marks of it.
He smiles like a spilled bucket before the next kiss falls. How he’s managing to push out of his high-heeled boots of his, that’s anybody’s guess.
Troy starts to remind him: butchers used to wear high heels, but that as longer ago than humans had space travel for their own and also who cares.
Troy doesn’t care at all, even given the thick and drunken embrace between them; given the words. “How are you like this.”
Troy insists as he has since he came to Pandora. “I was born this way.”
The same as that, no questions follow. The guy takes his hand. Nobody asks which way. It must be his room waiting at the end of all things.
In the moonlight between the streetlamps, his hair shows no color. Red’s the first color to vanish given the right wavelength where any colors show up at all.
Troy swallows as he’s lead along by this person. He swears he seems him in slow-shot stutters of a camera. He looks like a model and he looks like nobody at all besides the person holding his hand, squeezing his fingers.
“You know, I didn’t catch your name if you’ve got one,” he says.
“I go by Troy, but you know, whatever, not like...”
They swirl to a stop at what would be a street corner in a real town. The guy presses one finger to his lips and he says: “Troy, I’m Mikael.”
What third kiss follows wells up drowning deep. Troy almost drops his bottle. But ah, he’s at work She shouldn’t. He won’t That would complicate tomorrow when it comes.
Like the fact Mikael tastes so hard of cherries and tobacco.
verso and knowing damn well he's lying to everyone basically all the time but still being like. very, very genuine with everyone at camp as they begin to trust him and he begins to trust them. when he realizes he isn't going to lose them instantly and have to bury them. those connections are all genuine. and i think because of that, his mind was almost changed, twice.
tbh I appreciate likes just as much as reblogs on my drawings. Any interest in my art is amazing to me but if it’s not something someone want on their blog, I can’t fight em.
