STEAMJUNK

I~ I WANT ENOUGH!

ABOUT ME:

I tried really hard to be a fanfiction blog for multiple years but as much as I enjoy thinking about my favorite characters, my own created characters hold a deeper place in my heart that makes it hard for me to take my mind off of them. I have a paracosm I call Vivus Terra that is very special to me, and I want to share my ideas and concepts and the joy that they brings me. I don't know if I'll ever write to publish, since VT isn't exactly the same to me as my stories.

You will probably still get yap or fandom or music related posts. Especially fandom. I just got tired of theming myself so hard into the ground that I never actually posted anything because I care too much about the rules I set for myself.

Yes, my name is Luca, short for Alucard. Either is fine.

God's monsters is my tag for mutuals/friends. I'm not religious and you guys aren't monsters, I just themed all my tags after hellsing when I revamped my blog and I'm too lazy to change them

I~ WANT TO BE PART OF YOU!

FANDOMS I MAY POST:

Tales of Arcadia

HTTYD

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Kingkiller Chronicle

Danganronpa

Genshin Impact

Honkai: Star Rail

Hellsing Ultimate (Abridged)

Dunmeshi

MHA on occasion

Marble Hornets

Creepypasta

OTHERS WILL APPEAR ON OCCASION.

I~ I WANT YOUR LOVE!

Living and dying together had technically always been a part of the plan.

Still, centuries ago, if Il Dottore heard that he would someday start his mornings in the embrace of a lover, he would have laughed aloud. Especially if he heard that, of all people, it would be Pantalone. His banker? His business partner? Surely not.

His eyes fell upon Pantalone's black hair to watch the way it splayed across the sheets and glinted in the early golden light. Something like contentment and dread at the same time climbed up his back and curled inside his ribcage as he once again remembered that that was his man. Dottore tightened his arms around Pantalone, fingers clutching at the man's silken lilac-colored nightclothes in an embarrassing moment of weakness. He couldn't even bring himself to look at his beloved like this, so he closed his eyes.

On the whole, he felt rather unworthy of this position, and it was a strange and uncomfortable feeling for Dottore to feel 'unworthy' of anything. He was sure of his work and sure of his intelligence, but when it came to his romantic endeavors, he was absolutely hopeless. He wasn't human enough for any of it to come naturally to him. By all means, he shouldn't have been there, in bed with Pantalone, but he had managed to cling to that much and that alone filled him with a vague but constant guilt.

When Dottore felt fear for the first time, it was a creeping sort of unease that would spike into panic each time he heard Pantalone cough. He was not a sympathetic man, but when his mind would wander too far back in time, he would recall the sight of Pantalone cut open on the operating table and find himself struck once more by just how much he couldn't bear to lose him.

He exhaled shakily in an attempt to regain his composure. A slow breath in filled his lungs with the scent of Pantalone's shampoo; it was enough of a comfort to ease him back into reality, and he opened his eyes. As his senses washed back over him like a flood to a canyon, he realized two things: Pantalone was awake, and Dottore was nearly crushing him.

"Zandik?" Pantalone mumbled. "Zandíček, what's gotten into you?"

Dottore flinched at the affectionate nickname, and further so at that adoring tone. It then occurred to him how tightly he was holding on and he quickly let go, turning over onto his other side. "It's truly nothing," he said unconvincingly. "I was just cold."

"No, come back." Pantalone attempted to focus on Dottore's form but failed. Half-blind, he placed his hand upon the doctor's shoulder and pushed him onto his back. Dottore made an effort to look anywhere except at the man currently making a clumsy effort to climb atop him. Pantalone's hand found Dottore's jaw and forced him to meet his gaze, leaning in close so his eyes could focus on him properly. Before he could say anything, though, the pitiful look on his lover's face silenced him. Pantalone had little to offer Dottore in comforting words or consolation—words could only do so much anyway. He cupped Dottore's face gently, his thumbs resting just below the corners of his eyes. He had been crying.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Dottore asked.

Pantalone's answer came so easily that Dottore was almost envious: "Just watching."

"Uh-huh."

"You know I love you."

"Uh-huh."

Pantalone huffed. "Talk to me, Zandíček," he said.

"I love you too," Dottore relented.

"And I'm glad I'm here. I like that you're here with me," Pantalone continued.

Dottore had to look away again. He should have been used to this by now, but no matter how many times Pantalone said it, he just couldn't wrap his head around it. He knew well that he was a villain and prided himself on being good at it. His entire relationship with Pantalone had begun with a nefarious transaction, all credit to his own moral bankruptcy. What, then, was the reason for this seemingly earnest affection? "Feo-jān," he said, almost reproachfully.

Pantalone was, however, immune to that tone. "Mn? Look at me—there you are." He smiled down at his beloved briefly before connecting their lips in a short, loving kiss. "Zandik," he said carefully, "I'm glad you're here, so stop worrying so much. I don't want you anywhere else."

Dottore finally smiled back at him.

"I'll stay here, then."