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eternally-daydreaming · 11 months

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even when i don’t feel whole, i am enough

With Pete, Vegas begins to heal.

• this one's for you, wren 🫶🏻🤍

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The moon taught me

there is beauty

in darkness too, that even when

I don’t feel whole

I am enough.

***

For a while, Vegas floats in some intangible plane of existence. He isn’t really there, though, not consciously.

His mind is, for once, clear of any thoughts—worries anger desire pain despair—as his soul is carried along, ping-ponging between life and death.

And then all at once, he’s falling, hurtling towards…he doesn’t even know. All he knows is that there’s something pulling him down, down down down, he’s racing towards the bottom, any second now he’s going to crash into it—

Vegas wakes up.

His eyes stay closed as awareness begins drifting back in. Either it’s daytime or the lights are on judging by the faint glow coming through his eyelids. He’s resting on something soft, half-sitting up with his back propped against what feels like mounds of stuffed linen. There’s a rhythmic beeping off to his right, the muted sound of footsteps walking around him. Then the footsteps stop, as if hesitating, before his left side dips a little as someone sits next to him.

Vegas opens his eyes.

It’s Pete, Pete sitting on the bed, frozen before him, brown doe eyes rimmed red as they stare at each other. Time stretches for what feels like hours, although it could’ve only been seconds.

Vegas feels his bottom lip wobble, and that’s all it takes for Pete to envelop him in his arms as they weep into each other’s shoulders.

(“I almost lost you,” Pete will shakily whisper to him later, when their voices are hoarse and the sky outside is dark. “I had just gotten you back, and you were nearly ripped away from me. I…I’ll never be able to forget it, the way you just crumpled to the ground…”

Pete’s voice will trail off at the end, breath catching in his throat, and Vegas will wordlessly tighten his grip around the other man. He will squeeze his eyes shut, the echoes of four gunshots booming in his ears.)

.

It takes nearly three weeks for Vegas to regain a fraction of his mobility after suffering major trauma to his abdomen. He can only really shift on the bed a few centimeters at the start, before his body erupts in flames and he’s hissing in pain. Gradually he’s able to sit up and lay down, albeit slowly with help from Pete, and soon after that he’s standing and walking around carefully with Pete’s arm curled protectively around his waist.

He had tried moving after a week of being bedridden due to his injuries, even though he knew damn well his body wasn’t ready yet. Maybe it was because he just wanted to prove a point. Prove it to who, well…Vegas didn’t know.

He managed to stand up next to the bed, though it involved a lot of cussing, wincing, and pained gasps. He’d been about to try taking a step when the door to his room opened and Pete caught him in the act.

Pete took one look at him weakly standing up before leveling him with a severely unimpressed look.

“Walk then,” he had said, jerking his chin towards Vegas. “Come on, walk towards me. I bet you can’t even take a step.”

Vegas doesn’t even complete one step before pain forces his body to buckle in on itself. Pete catches him in his arms before he can hit the floor.

It takes another three weeks for doctors to deem him healed enough to go home and finish his recovery there. For the entire six weeks he’s in the hospital, Vegas clings to Pete whenever he can, though it’s worse when he tries to sleep, when the dark and quiet of night tortures him with visions and sounds of getting shot.

Only with Pete next to him, their bodies nearly touching from forehead to toes, does the torture cease.

.

It’s the first night home—in a faraway wing of the minor family compound—when Vegas gasps awake in the middle of the night.

Flashes dance behind his eyelids, loud bangs echoing in his ears as his heart threatens to beat right out of his chest. He goes to get up, to get some fresh air on the adjoining balcony, and notices his hands are shaking.

Vegas stands there for a long while, leaning over the railing and watching the trees sway in the wind, the moon painting their shadows. Eventually he hears rustling, then feet pounding against the floor as they race towards the balcony. Towards him.

The footsteps stop just short of the doorway, as if hesitating, before they come closer. Vegas feels the remaining warmth from sleep radiating off Pete’s body.

“You weren’t in bed,” Pete murmurs. Vegas hears his underlying words: you weren’t clinging to me, and that’s not like you. “What’s wrong?”

Vegas sighs, shoulders slumping with the weight of the world on them, heart twisting in his chest.

Volume near-silent, Vegas voices the thoughts that have ravaged his mind since he woke up in the hospital. “What I can offer you, and what I feel toward you, are two totally different things.”

Pete doesn’t say anything in response, so Vegas turns his head to risk a glance. The other man simply gazes back at him, head tilted to the side in thought.

“What do you feel towards me?” Pete asks. A gust of wind billows by, ruffling his sleep-mussed hair.

It comes out soft and featherlike. “I adore you, Pete. I want to protect you, I want to have you here for as long as you’ll want me…I want you happy and smiling because it’s what you deserve. I feel how much I love you. All these things I feel, they threaten to suffocate me everyday because they’re so intense.”

Pete tilts his head the other way. “What can you offer me?”

Vegas growls under his breath, frustration bursting at Pete’s steady tone, the care in his voice. How can he care about Vegas, after everything that’s happened? “Pain, despair, darkness, a pathetic excuse of a man—”

Suddenly Pete snarls, “Don’t listen to that voice inside your head,” and Vegas shuts up instantly.

His face, his tone, softens then, brown eyes imploring. “Listen to mine.” He reaches out and laces their fingers together, even though Vegas’s are cold and Pete’s are warm. “The things you feel towards me, are the things you can offer me. They are one and the same.”

Sobs climb up Vegas’s throat, wrap around his windpipe, choking him. Tears burn in the corners of his eyes. He shakes his head, voice cracking on his words. “I’m so sorry, Pete. I’m a mess, you shouldn’t have to deal with this—"

“Hey, shh,” comes the soft whisper of Pete’s voice. Never once letting their fingers untangle, he steps closer and embraces Vegas, forehead to shoulder. “I’m here because I want to be, Vegas. I’m here with you, everything’s alright now.”

Vegas sobs brokenly, fingers clenching around Pete’s where their hands are trapped between their bodies. “But i-it’s not—I’m not okay.”

“You will be. We both will.” Pete’s fingers squeeze around Vegas’s where their hands are encased by their hearts. “I promise you.”

The nighttime wind breezes gently past, the moon casting its soft light, as if both are coming down to speak to them.

You will heal, they whisper. You are enough.

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Available on AO3

Collection Masterlist

#saturntracks #kinnporsche fanfic #kinnporsche the series #vegaspete #vegas theerapanyakul #pete saengtham #short fiction #fiction collection #stars by the pocketful

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faggot-friday · 10 months

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going through the hottest 100 rn. why are there so many covers?

my brother in christ it is the like a version hottest 100. they’re all covers that’s the point

#aesks #stars by the pocketful #ex-wife >:(#this is so funny to me

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quietimtryingtostudy · 1 year

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Am I streaming the entire Midnights album when I'm supposed to be getting things done? Yes.

Am I doing said things to be done while streaming the entire album? Also yes.

#snow on the beach #how can one song be so beautiful #taylor swift #stressed desi high schooler content #daily padhai updates #stars by the pocketful #you wanted me tonight #feels impossible #midnights #red #1989 #reputation #folklore #desi academia #academia #can this be a real thing can it?

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gelpensfountainpensandquills · 1 year

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weird, but fuckin' beautiful

#taylor swift #snow at the beach #gaylor swift #midnights #vibes #stars by the pocketful

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that-wasnt-very-versace-of-you · 1 year

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#snow on the beach #taylor swift #midnights album #midnights #lana del rey #stars by the pocketful #2022 #lyrics

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starsbythepocketful13 · 2 years

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i may have just changed my username after fucking forever bc that imagery she used in snow on the beach was just too good and I can’t get over it somehow

#midnights #taylor swift #snow on the beach #stars by the pocketful

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rhythmlessseas · 3 months

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#snow on the beach #lana del rey #taylor swift #time can’t stop me quite like you did #stars by the pocketful #but your eyes are flying saucers from another planet #Spotify

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forecast0ctopus · 1 month

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bones he’s falling off el capitan he can’t hear you

#leonard mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #star trek #star trek tos #star trek tos fanart #star trek v #star trek v: the final frontier #pocket sketchbook bones……

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omaano · 4 months

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Touchy subject

"The 501st was one of the best legions during the war. I've lost a lot of good men over the years - some of them would have given even you Mandos a run for your credits. And my general... My general was a good man too, but that's enough of that, I thought you were too old for bedtime stories by now."

Din just tried to figure out what the colour of the clones' armor paint meant, and why he's never heard Rex mention his CO during all the wartime stories and lectures; whereas he's already got to meet Wolffe and his general and even heard Cody mention his every once in a blue moon. (Special thanks to @witchydom for helping with the "dialogue" :3)

The rest of my Star Wars meets Hades AU project is here

I'll take a bit of your time to give a bit of an explanation why I decided to put Rex in Skelly's spot:

During a playthrough when I was looking for screenshots to use as backgrounds the first thing that greeted me was Zagreus calling Skelly "Captain" upon entering the armoury, or whatever that chamber is called. And that really decided it, let's be honest. Rex is Captain, and that is the Captain's spot. End of story.

Reading "still got it" by qigiined even before I got into watching TCW was such a personality defining experience (seriously, this fic lives forever rent free in my brain), that I really had no other option but to put the few clones that I'm willing to work into this AU somewhere around home base (the covert) - so you can guess where Cody and Wolffe are situated. Or will be, hopefully soon enough. Rex needs to be able to hang out with Cody, that's just how it is. (Rebels and TBB canon who?)

Rex deserves to teach some uppity Mando bounty hunters and other warriors who think too much of themselves a few lessons in humility and some crafty tricks. I think it would be very good for him.

As a throwaway note since we are already under the read more section, I've been thinking about sigils and keepsakes (trinkets) and cthonic companions (I know that over a year ago I inaccurately but very self indulgently designed one for Din, Boba and Cobb, that is not the point now) and while Cody can have one shaped like Boga, and Wolffe can obviously get a stuffed loth wolf (and Bo-Katan a very squishy owl)... I have no idea what shaped companion Rex could have. If anyone has any suggestions and would love to share it with me, I'd be very grateful!

#captain rex #rex #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #tcw fanart #sw tcw #my art #hades au #star wars fanart #old man rex #star wars rebels #sw rebels #I grew to love his beard so much I cannot believe it #these two gave me so much grief but in the end I think I managed to pull them together #old man rex somewhat even looks like boba too which makes me really relieved I'm not gonna lie #but also boba looks so messy in comparison to these later drawings when I actually know what I'm doing orz #also new pocket rex look at him!#but not too closely please he is a little sketchy

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eternally-daydreaming · 11 months

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pluviophile

(noun.) a person who enjoys rain and rainy days, and who is fascinated by the sights, sounds, etc. of rain

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“Porsche! You’re gonna get sick!”

Porsche ignores Kinn’s insistent shouting from somewhere behind him, focusing instead on the way his arms are spread out at his sides, palms up, eyes closed, soft smile turned towards the sky as rain cascades down on him.

He’s always loved the rain, ever since he was a kid. The way it fell in droplets, or plunged to the ground in sheets, how it dripped rhythmically off objects, he loved all of it. There’s something cathartic about standing still and letting the rain fall down around you, sliding down your skin and clothes, cleansing your mind and soul.

“Porsche, honey, I love you but I really don’t want you getting sick,” Kinn calls again. Porsche lets his eyes flutter open, the beginnings of a grin stretching across his face. He drops his arms and turns to where Kinn is standing, under a tree with an umbrella over his head and a half smile on his face.

“Have you ever danced in the rain?” Porsche asks, cocking his head. It’s devastating, a blow to Kinn’s solar plexus; Porsche looks like a puppy whenever he does that.

“Not that I can remember.” It’s true; if Kinn had ever danced in the rain, he had been really young. Too young now to recall how it felt.

Porsche considers him for a moment, head still tilted, before he rights himself and smiles. It’s so easy, tender, fond. He holds out a hand towards Kinn.

“Dance with me, my darling.”

Kinn stares, mildly stunned. Now? he wants to ask. Here? In the rain?

But then his eyes meet Porsche’s, through a curtain of raindrops. His heart decides for him; how could he ever deny Porsche anything?

Closing the umbrella, Kinn steps out from under the tree and lets the rain fall, pitter-pattering against his coat and drenching his hair. He approaches Porsche, returning the fond smile, and takes his hand.

Porsche intertwines their fingers, and then he’s moving. Dancing. Kinn can only follow along, attempting to copy the younger’s moves. He has no clue what song is playing in Porsche’s head, but he doesn’t need to hear it. Porsche is laughing, eyes scrunched into crescents, and Kinn isn’t impervious to the sheer joy emanating from his love. Soon, his smile turns into a full-on grin.

They jump and spin and step, hands forever clasped together as the rain continues to fall around them. Porsche nudges Kinn forward—never separating—until their arms are stretched out between them, and then he tugs. He lifts his arm, and with a bright giggle, Kinn twirls once before colliding into Porsche’s chest. He shrieks happily when Porsche dips him towards the ground, squeezing the younger’s fingers where their hands remain connected, head thrown back.

Porsche gazes at his lover, at his smile the way he’s laughing freely, filled with genuine delight. Kinn’s let his dorky side out, the side he hides from the world but reveals in Porsche’s presence. The side that bares who he truly is, deep within.

He tugs Kinn back up and doesn’t expect the bruising kiss Kinn places on his lips as soon as he’s upright again. Porsche smiles into the kiss, untangling their fingers to slide one arm around Kinn’s waist while the other finds a home around his shoulders. Kinn’s hands rest on his face, cradling his cheeks, warm against rain-kissed skin. Their lips slide together, firm but tender, as the rain continues its ethereal torrent.

When they part, they’re silent. The smiles on their faces, the love shining in their eyes, transcend any word they could possibly say.

.

Later, Kinn has Porsche swaddled in his long raincoat as he carries the younger bridal-style through the rain. His beloved is curled up in Kinn’s arms, face buried in his throat and arms tightly locked around his neck.

“Kinn,” Porsche murmurs, breath warm on Kinn’s neck. “I love you.”

Kinn sighs fondly. Unbearably, immeasurably fond. “I love you too, Porsche. Even when you’re bound to get sick from dancing in the rain.”

“Hey, you danced with me,” Porsche laughs, untucking his head to grin and wink at him.

Kinn gently moves his arm so he can nudge Porsche’s nose with his own. “That I did, my dear.”

Porsche hums and snuggles back into the crook of his neck, grin softening. “At least you’ll be there to take care of me.”

.

They both end up getting sick a day later.

━━━━━ ━━━━━ ━━━━━ ━━━━━

Available on AO3

Collection Masterlist

#kinnporsche fanfic #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche #kinn theerapanyakul #porsche kittisawasd #short fiction #fiction collection #stars by the pocketful

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