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pathologicroundrobin2020-02-03 07:41 pm
maximumhusky) wrote in pathologicroundrobin2020-02-03 07:41 pm
Entry tags:
Pathologic Kink Meme!
Hello, welcome to the Pathologic Kink Meme! WARNING: This one is NSFW!
Please make anonymous prompts for things you would like to see, or anonymously fulfill prompts by creating stories, poetry, drawn art, music, or anything! I just want to say that this prompt meme is open to people of all skill levels, so have fun!
Some basic rules that were recommended to help out before we get started:
- This is the Pathologic Kink Meme, and it's NSFW! Please post any NSFW prompts or fills here. A good rule of thumb is whether or not you'd be comfortable with your boss at work looking over your shoulder and reading what you have on screen.
- If anything is a little too explicit in detail (e.g. in terms of medical procedures or gore), it probably needs to be here as well. Basic mentioning of medical procedures is allowed, but this is just in case for folks who have limits in regard to certain explicit things. Speaking of explicit things...
- Please use tags and content warnings, especially for things that people might be triggered over. For prompt fillers, please put those tags in the beginning of the post so that way people can skip over them if need be. Tags can also attract people to your art if it has content that they're interested in, so it can be a helpful tool for content creators as well.
- No writers of incest (kains which does include aglaya and her relatives, stamatins, olgimskys, etc), underage/adult ships (which DOES include Clara,) or rape. Please don't make anything gross happen to underage characters!
- Multiple fills to a single prompt is not only accepted, but wonderful! It's a win-win for everybody!
- In the case of a filler of a prompt going inactive for a long time in the middle of a story, it's okay for a different person to continue where they left off. Please make it obvious that you're not the original author, and then feel free to write.
And that's as much as I have in regards to rules! Hopefully these answered answer any questions you might have! Feel free to recommend any rules of your own, or ask me for clarification on the current ones.
AND THAT'S IT! Have fun! :D
LINKS:
Pathologic Prompt Meme: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/825.html
Pathologic Round-Robin: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/654.html
Pathologic Kink Meme (nsfw): https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1201.html
Contact me here if you have any questions!: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1347.html
Please make anonymous prompts for things you would like to see, or anonymously fulfill prompts by creating stories, poetry, drawn art, music, or anything! I just want to say that this prompt meme is open to people of all skill levels, so have fun!
Some basic rules that were recommended to help out before we get started:
- This is the Pathologic Kink Meme, and it's NSFW! Please post any NSFW prompts or fills here. A good rule of thumb is whether or not you'd be comfortable with your boss at work looking over your shoulder and reading what you have on screen.
- If anything is a little too explicit in detail (e.g. in terms of medical procedures or gore), it probably needs to be here as well. Basic mentioning of medical procedures is allowed, but this is just in case for folks who have limits in regard to certain explicit things. Speaking of explicit things...
- Please use tags and content warnings, especially for things that people might be triggered over. For prompt fillers, please put those tags in the beginning of the post so that way people can skip over them if need be. Tags can also attract people to your art if it has content that they're interested in, so it can be a helpful tool for content creators as well.
- No writers of incest (kains which does include aglaya and her relatives, stamatins, olgimskys, etc), underage/adult ships (which DOES include Clara,) or rape. Please don't make anything gross happen to underage characters!
- Multiple fills to a single prompt is not only accepted, but wonderful! It's a win-win for everybody!
- In the case of a filler of a prompt going inactive for a long time in the middle of a story, it's okay for a different person to continue where they left off. Please make it obvious that you're not the original author, and then feel free to write.
And that's as much as I have in regards to rules! Hopefully these answered answer any questions you might have! Feel free to recommend any rules of your own, or ask me for clarification on the current ones.
AND THAT'S IT! Have fun! :D
LINKS:
Pathologic Prompt Meme: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/825.html
Pathologic Round-Robin: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/654.html
Pathologic Kink Meme (nsfw): https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1201.html
Contact me here if you have any questions!: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1347.html
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Latest Prompt: [Body Worship] Eva Yan/Peter Stamatin (link)
Latest Fill:
Bathing in the steppe: Aspity/Eva link)
Latest Comment: "Thank you so much, I wanted this filled so bad! [. . .]" (link)
FILL 2: Artemy/Daniil, vivisection
(Anonymous) 2020-05-18 02:24 pm (UTC)(link)- - -
Even before he opens his eyes, Artemy can place himself. Rough-hewn stone arches over his head and scuffs against his boots, muffling his footsteps in that peculiar way. But the Abattoir is quieter than he remembers. Emptier. Darker.
(There's a brief moment where he doesn't remember, where he's free of guilt.)
The springs of earth's blood are dry and depleted when he brushes his fingers against them on his way past. No odonghs or albinos are there to guide him, but something drives him forward. Someone's waiting for him.
And there, at the end of the bridge, stands a familiar figure.
"We've been waiting," Rubin says. "But I guess you weren't in a hurry. You never are."
"Look, I came as soon as I could." Artemy speaks as if reciting lines from memory, instead of what he wants to say, which is How the hell did they even let you in? Rubin looks unimpressed, then pulls out an intricately carved blade from his robes. A blade he shouldn't even be allowed to touch.
"It gives me no pleasure to admit it, but I need your hands for this," he says and holds Menkhu's finger towards Artemy. Artemy looks from the blade to Rubin for an explanation, but Rubin only indicates the path to his right.
"Cut him. Cut him so that he remains living."
Artemy balks. He can't do this.
(Couldn't do this. He already failed someone.)
He shakes his head. "How do you expect me to do that?" he says. "Here? I need—" Swabs, bandages, a sterile environment.
"You know your Lines, don't you?" Rubin says.
"As if you even know what you're talking about! You're setting me up to fail!" Artemy snaps in response.
Rubin scoffs. "Well, I can't do it. He won't let me," he says. What is that in his voice, wounded pride?
Artemy flexes his jaw and nods. "Fine then. Give me the blade."
He walks past Rubin and rounds the corner to the little alcove on his left. For a brief moment, it feels like his vision splits in two. The first shows him a crowd gathered around the slab, lit by torchlight, and in the center a painfully familiar face. In the second, he's on stage before a bloodied operating table, lit by a swaying spotlight.
Then the afterimages fade away, and before him sits a lone figure in his shirtsleeves. His hands are folded, as though in uncharacteristic prayer, and his gaze focused on some unseen point in the distance. Then he notices Artemy and that gaze snaps to him in all its intensity.
Artemy expects a greeting or at least some snappy comment on his lateness, but Dankovsky seems oddly content to just stare at him in silence.
"Rubin... He said you'd been waiting," Artemy says, the statement uncomfortably turning into a question in his mouth. Dankovsky nods and then moves as if to speak – but his mouth opens and closes without a sound, the muscles in his throat flexing without success.
Artemy shakes his head in confusion. "What? What do you want from me?" he asks. Dankovsky rolls his eyes and raises hand to his throat, then squeezes his eyes shut as if in pain.
Some distant memory stirs in Artemy's mind. No throat, no voice. "Dankovsky," he says. "Daniil."
Dankovsky's eyes open and settle on him with a look of gratitude. "Finally," he says in a sigh of relief. He nods to the blade in Artemy's hand. "I see you have all you need. We shouldn't waste any more time."
He starts undoing the buttons of his shirt. Artemy watches as the pristine cloth parts and reveals... nothing but pale, unmarked skin.
(Of course there's nothing. What markings was he expecting?)
Artemy takes the shirt from Dankovsky's hands and folds it at the head of the slab.
"Lie down. I need the light."
Dankovsky acquiesces and lies down on the slab, the skin stretching awful thin over his ribs when he does. Artemy takes one steadying breath – in, out, and in – and steps close.
He draws a line from the jugular notch to the end of the sternum with his fingers, then presses the blade in to where the bone gives way to soft tissue. He glances up at Dankovsky at the first incision, gauging for pain, but Dankovsky only raises his eyebrows in response. His expression is that of clinical interest, almost amusement.
It doesn't truly even feel like he is cutting into something, but rather tracing the surface of some viscous liquid. The blade easily parts skin from muscle, muscle from sinew, each layer pulled aside and folded like pages of a book.
He wipes his hand of excess blood on his apron, and in that moment notices Dankovsky's left one in his peripheral vision, lying still on the slab. There is dirt under his fingernails and smears of what looks like mud on the grooves of his knuckles. It feels out of place. Dankovsky's always struck him as a very fastidious man, the kind to keep his hands clean.
(No, that wasn't— who is he thinking of?)
The blade slips and digs a notch too deep, and Dankovsky's mouth twitches in distaste.
"I suppose it's too much to ask for your undivided attention at a time like this," he mutters, and Artemy wrenches his focus back to scowl at him.
"Trust me, you will feel it if I've lost attention," he says and turns back to his work. Thankfully, the slip of the blade is not too deep, and he can widen the cut to reconnect it to the line running towards Dankovsky's navel. With a few more smooth movements, he cuts and lifts away a V of skin and muscle to reveal the curve of the lowest rib. Beneath it, the plethora of internal organs is almost in view.
He nudges aside a layer of soft tissue to inspect the ripe-plum sheen of the liver. There it is, the center of Bachelor Dankovsky's mind and knowledge. It, at least, looks healthy.
(Was that what he was hoping to see?)
"Do you even know what you're looking for?" Dankovsky asks. Artemy clicks his tongue in irritation. Dankovsky only sighs in response, and for a delirious moment Artemy thinks he can see the movement ripple through the flayed-open muscles and membranes before him. His head swims.
The gut. That's where he'll find it.
He cuts down past the liver until he can reach down deep enough to brush his fingers against the velvety surface of the stomach. He smells gunpowder. Ashes. Blood? Well, of course there's blood. He's elbow-deep in blood.
Dankovsky hums in disappointment. "And I thought I was being so clever..." he mutters.
Artemy makes a small incision, wide enough to feel inside the cardia with the tip of a finger. It meets something hard and irregular, like something was blocking the very entrance. Strange, from the outside the stomach doesn't look distended at all.
He pulls his fingers back to widen the incision, carefully cutting around the arteries. He sets the blade aside on the slab when he's done, and braces his other hand on Dankovsky's chest while he reaches inside. He traces the odd ridges and corners of the object which dig into his hand when he wraps his fingers around it. Something sharp presses into the ball of his thumb. There is a faint, fluttering pulse, beating at odds with Dankovsky's own heart, pumping away under Artemy's hand.
"I need to take this," he says, and Dankovsky shakes his head.
"You're killing me," Dankovsky says. "This will cost me my life and you know it."
"But I'm doing this to save you," Artemy says. "All of you! If I just..." He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. "If I just do this, you'll all be safe. You'll be alive."
"Some of us," Dankovsky says. He places a hand over Artemy's one resting on his chest. "But you'll have to choose."
Artemy waits for a heartbeat, then two, then three. He opens his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says and with the hand wrapped in Dankovsky's guts, he pulls.
For a moment the object, whatever it is, catches, and he has to tug again until it comes loose with a sickening wet click. Dankovsky's eyes snap wide and he gasps – the first sign that he feels what Artemy's doing to him. His hand squeezes Artemy's like a vice. Artemy whispers an apology after another, but the words do nothing to ease the pain. A wave of liquid warmth rushes up from the gaping wound before him, spilling over Dankovsky's sides and dribbling down onto the stone beneath them.
He can't look. He can't. Dankovsky stares up at him, wide-eyed, smears of blood on this cheeks. "Artemy." He speaks his name, but his lips aren't moving. He has to look.
Slowly, Artemy turns his eyes towards the wound to see what he's pried from Dankovsky's gut. But his hand is empty and bloodless. The skin beneath it is whole and unblemished. Dankovsky's frowning down at him, his hair slightly tousled and backlit by the faint glow of a bedside lamp.
Artemy feels a dizzying tug of gravity and falls back against the too-warm sheets of the bed.
"You woke me up," Dankovsky says, voice rough with sleep. Artemy swallows to wet his throat.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. His hand traces the unbroken skin of Dankovsky's abdomen. Dankovsky glances down at the point of contact, and Artemy can see, even freshly awoken, how his brain makes a mental note of this action, to process later. Dankovsky rolls around to reach for the wick of the lamp and turns off the light once more.
"You should get more rest," he says and lies back down, his back facing Artemy.
Artemy stares at the line of Dankovsky's torso against the darkness of the room, faintly illuminated by the light from the Stillwater's windows. He itches to reach for him, to run his hands over that expanse of intact, warm skin. But that's not something their newly-found truce is ready for. The wound he carved into the Bridge Square has barely had time to scab over, and too heavy a touch would risk ripping it open anew.
Dankovsky already holds him accountable for the destruction of one miracle. To then freely incriminate himself for his actions in the Abattoir would be... unthinkable.
So he lies awake in the dark, waiting for the sense memory of that strange fluttering pulse to fade from his hands, and hopes for a dreamless sleep to find him before dawn.
Re: FILL 2: Artemy/Daniil, vivisection
(Anonymous) 2020-05-18 05:02 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL 2: Artemy/Daniil, vivisection
(Anonymous) 2020-05-18 05:04 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL 2: Artemy/Daniil, vivisection
(Anonymous) 2020-05-18 05:41 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL 2: Artemy/Daniil, vivisection
(Anonymous) 2020-05-20 05:41 pm (UTC)(link)This was amazing, thank you so much!