Pathologic Prompt Meme!

[maximumhusky]

Hello, welcome to the Pathologic Prompt Meme!

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 Prompt Meme, and it's SFW! Please post any NSFW prompts or fills into the NSFW Pathologic Kink Meme. 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 you're worried about anything being a little too gore-heavy (e.g. certain medical procedures can be), or etc., please post it in the NSFW Pathologic Kink Meme. This decision is 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

Newest Activity!

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Latest Fill: [fill] (Mod note: This is Peter coping after Andrey's death, but I'm having a hard time finding the corresponding prompt post for this for some reason. It's well-written, but for some reason Dreamwidth glitched out on making this post visible. Please give this author some love! (link)
Latest Comment: Re: Someone is a killer. On god I will write this. Saw this prompt a month ago before I even stepped foot into the game and was stricken. This will. . . this will happen. . ." (link)

Comments

(EXAMPLE REQUEST) Notkin & Khan, Fluff

[noxtoraa]

I want to see Notkin and Khan making up after their turf war after the plague is over. I don't mind which ending it is.

*(ADDED AS AN EXAMPLE)* I'm very uncomfortable with child endangerment, so please try to avoid talking about them being sick!

Bonus ideas:
- They have baby crushes on each other and their feelings keep getting in the way!
- Khan is making up with his family and Notkin has been adopted by Artemy!
- (etc, etc, etc...)

(EXAMPLE FILL) Notkin & Khan, Fluff

[noxtoraa]

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mild swearing

(Fill goes here. Put it in multiple comments if necessary!)

[(Anonymous)]

May I request something fluffy/gen in the form of Artemy interacting with bulls? Maybe he's trying to teach someone who's afraid of bulls not to be scared?

Artemy's been through a lot. He can have a little softness with some boohas. <3

[(Anonymous)]

OH SECONDED.... BIG SECONDED....

[(Anonymous)]

Daniil Dankovsky somehow finds himself responsible for teaching the kids of the Town-on-Gorkhon. Despite his vocal complaints, Artemy sees that Daniil actually enjoys himself more than he lets on.

Bonus if Artemy and/or Clara wind up sitting in for a class to learn as well, even if it just turns out to be about Daniil himself.

[(Anonymous)]

The Saburovs have finally adopted a child, in the form of Clara. At last, they can breathe easy and put aside their hangups over being childless. However, now they're confronted with the fact that they have exactly what they wanted for a long time, but no idea of what to actually do now. Please give me the Saburovs awkward but genuine attempts to be a loving family to a strange, miraculous girl who came out of a grave.

This could take place during the game's events, or maybe even some time outside of it. Whichever is fine!

[(Anonymous)]

^Same anon as above

Forgot to mention but I do have a trigger warning: pregnancy and miscarriage. It might come up with Katarina's back story, but please don't go too in depth with it. I'm a bit squeamish in that regard.

Artemy and the gang, one last camping trip

[(Anonymous)]

Artemy says he and his friends used to go out in the steppe for days. I want to read about the last time they went before Artemy left for school. Make me cry anon!!

Re: Artemy and the gang, one last camping trip

[(Anonymous)]

seconded... ;-;

[(Anonymous)]

I would love a story about Nina Kaina interacting with her family: Aglaya, Khan, Maria and Victor, the ways she's the same, the way she;'s different.

Re: Nina Kaina comparison [FILL]

[(Anonymous)]

Everyone looked surprisingly human compared to Nina Kaina.



Nina Kaina always got what she wanted when she was younger. Though back then her name was Nina Lilich and everyone said her dark eyes were captivating. She knew how to play people from a young age, knew when to cry or when to look sad or when to look happy. She understood people, when she was younger it was a selfish instinct she always gave into. Of course when looking at that. People cared for her, the elder sister got the attention.

Aglaya Lilich had dark hair and eyes yet they were never described as captivating. When she was younger a boy once called them "boring". She never got the chance to learn how to get what she wanted, not when all the eyes followed her sister who always stood tall like a shadow over her. Something would only come close to knowing when she ruled the town with Victoria.

People always said about Nina, "Nina will be such a great businesswoman." "She's so smart, dark but good with people. She'll do great things." "Whatever she does she'll be amazing at it, it would be hard to compete with her force of nature."
No one said anything about Aglaya.



Nina Kaina was forceful, she was got bored and went out and entertained herself. Whether that be by breaking homes or messing with lives, she always found something. She left people feeling passionate, she made people want to do what they desired. She ruled with care about this world, watching people play their part and get the job done. She watched people like a child would watch ants. With care and knowledge, they all were so small compared to other things.

Viktor Kain was quiet and always passionate. Even before he met her there was a drive in him you could see as he grew up. He was calm but driven, always there but not in the spotlight. Which was something he preferred that worked out perfectly when he did get married. She got the limelight and he got comfortability.

Some families said that Nina was a pillar that went high into the sky and Viktor was the base that kept her from falling over when the wind turned extreme.



Nina was cold, she was distant and many people saw her as something other than themselves. As if there were people and there was Nina. She had power, the energy she gave off moved people, and even though she was dark and sometimes evil in action everyone was enamored by her. She was beautiful and dark. Captivating.

Maria was haunted, she was young and burdened with the death of her mother. Though, so much of her was just like Nina. The people of her generation knew what it was like to grow up with her and knew she was never like every other kid. But if you knew Nina you could see the moment she became a mistress. She was just like her mother. Captivating.

When people saw Maria they said she would grow up to be just like her mother, but they never could predict how true that would become.



Maria knew people. They never understood her but she knew them and that so many people just wanted to be known. She was odd but if anyone would recognize what she had always been doing they would have seen how she was destined to be like this. She looked down on people, she played with their feelings, and she went to sleep at night seeing it all like a game she was playing. She was a leader, but her otherworldly nature got the best of her more often than not.

Khan was a leader, he was forceful and knew when to make people get out of his business. Some called him rude for that, others said he was just like his parents. Khan knew just what he wanted at all times, just as Nina did he saw people differently than most. Though as she saw them as ants, he saw them like chess pieces on many many different boards of different battles where he was sure he would win.

Many said that Khan and Nina were very different. Only the ones who paid attention could see they were exactly the same.


Nina was manipulative, forceful, cold, and knowing. Aglaya was second place, Viktor was passive, Maria was haunted, and Khan was a leader. All too different and all too the same. Her family had bits and pieces of her, many pieces broken, but they were still there.

[(Anonymous)]

Artemy and Rubin learning how to do their first surgery, and working in tandem/in competition with each other.

[FILL] cw surgery talk (obviously)

[(Anonymous)]

Over the years there became a system developed between the two. Traditions, routines. They started at one place first and then moved down the list. Checking vitals, heartbeat, preparing tools, having them in their set position.

It all started like that, sometimes for checkups, they would take turns preparing any check-in tools. They would make sure they did things one after another when working together. Rubin dealing with that stats and Artemy dealing with the bedside table manners. They would mark off and keep track of patients with risks towards one thing or another and debate it with one another.

Or when Isidor really challenges them to real surgery. Then they would need to debate in real-time to find out what was wrong with someone and how to help them. Of course, that is only after practice but it's different with real people. They find out symptoms, they keep track of what they have been doing recently and have to look at everything someone could be suffering from. They spend nights full of conversation debating on what someone could be suffering from, but when it comes down to it they set down their pride and give in to the most likely story.

When they walk into the real thing they decide they must be dealing with something that won't kill. They hand tools back and forth after starting the surgery, all they had to do was take out a kidney. Then all should be right.

"Water," Artemy called out, his voice muffled against the mask on his face. To which Rubin nodded and tool the tools dirty and cleaned them once more. Grabbing another tray for him to set anything needed on. He found it easy when he was left to clean, it was needed to make sure no infection or contamination could start or spread inside the body but also it meant he was the one who would sitch her stomach back up.

Isidor was of course on standby so that he could actually cut the body open and get to the needed thing, cut what was needed after Artemy made the space for him to do so. But they were the ones running things.

Rubin saw how Artemy struggling with a particular movement that he pushed what was in the way. Rubin, for once, wasn't trying to outdo but only help. To which Artemy placed his hands to give their father a clear view."Father."

To which Isidor did what he had to, cutting where he must. and stepping back as Artemy arranged things back to how they should be inside a body. And Artemy stood on call as Rubin stitched the wound up, watching his hands meticulously move as he finished up.

Artemy got the start, Isidor the goal, and Rubin the end.

It was a fixed plan when they all came together to do so. It was steady and calculated. Worked out after years of working together, working against each other. Rubin teetering between being okay with Artemy doing as much as he did and wishing he could prove himself even more. To showing off when he got the chance.

Of course, after Artemy left there was no more tandem, nor was he even allowed to do surgeries on people living.

Nothing was as nicely challenging and peaceful as the first time they did surgery together.

[(Anonymous)]

Notkin tries to persuade Taya to join the Soul-and-a-Halves when Notkin is fifteen, and Taya is eight. A conversation about souls, animals, rules, and the difference between kindred and the Kin?

something a little different

[(Anonymous)]

Today you are a horrible Oyun in the Town-on-Gorkhon. You have five posts to do horrible Oyun things such as pet cows, drink milk, lift things, and strive to put away the Olgimskys into jail.

What shall you do?

Re: something a little different

[(Anonymous)]

pet cow

[(Anonymous)]

A little short story about Victor being a widower and yearning for Nina after her passing...

fdjsgfdj god what is this i dont even know (Flower!Daniil AU???)

[(Anonymous)]

Artemy finds a strange flower growing that he's never seen before. Its colors are lurid and nigh phosphorescent, but its weak and close to wilting. Artemy decides to care for it, and little by little the flower starts to come back to life.

Afterwards, a mysterious man shows up in town. He has dark hair and is the consummate erudite. He claims to be a Bachelor of Medicine from the Capital. Artemy can tell the stranger's knowledge of medicinal theory and technique is true, but no one is quite sure what a person from the Capital is doing here. Is he telling the truth?

Regardless of Artemy's own suspicions, the other doctor seems to have an interest in him. He's cordial and genuinely kind at least. But something tips Artemy off that there's something hidden by the other doctor.

Whether it's flower petals that fell from the other doctor's sleeve, or possibly a familiar floral scent only noticed up close, the other doctor and the strange flower that Artemy nursed back to health seem to be related...

(Daniil is the spirit of the flower that Artemy helped, and now he wants to repay the favor somehow. Whether things work out for Daniil and Artemy is up to you! It can be fluff, or even tragedy. I hope I made some sense when I was writing this oh gosh. Feel free to drop or modify some elements if you would like.)

[hands you a flower daniil]

[(Anonymous)]

TW: Mild self harm (pricking oneself with a blade to get blood)

Artemy always seems to find the strangest things out in the steppe. More often than not, those things were plants. Having studied herbs for his entire life, Artemy was sure that he had seen them all. But in front of him sits a flower he had never seen before.

It looks like a rose, almost. The curling of the petals and the sharp thorns on its stem certainly evoked the image of a rose. But the colors were all wrong. Its stem is black like the night, and the petals themselves are red like blood. More so than a rose would be. Where a rose was poetic in its crimson, this flower is macabre. The red in these petals come from what appears to be veins running through pale flesh. They pulse like a heartbeat, filled with some red ichor. Its stem snaked around a thicker stalk of grasses, as if clinging to it for support.

He had never heard this plant before either. Where others had noises that came from the Earth—the swish of wind through grass (or knives through the air), the rattle of grains in a cup, or even the buzz of insects—this plant had a strange noise. It was almost like a hiss paired with some other thing. Artemy had no idea if it was a hiss of a snake or not, but the second noise fascinated him. It was like a soft squeak of some material being moved.

The flower is in poor shape, Artemy has to strain to hear it. The strange plant is wilted, drooping. Despite its alien appearance, Artemy's heart pangs with pity.

"You're lucky I found you, little guy," Artemy murmurs as he bends to get closer to the plant. He searches his pockets for something that might be of use. Water? Though, if this plant makes a hiss, which could be like a swish, maybe it could use more iron.

"You're very lucky I found you," Artemy sighs, pulling out a small knife he uses to cut thicker stems.

He takes a breath and pricks his finger, enough to draw blood. He squeezes a few droplets onto the ground beside the strange flower. The hissing quiets, and Artemy feels a pit in his stomach as he worries he's killed this poor flower. The worry abates, however, as the blood seeps into the ground, sucked by the hungry roots of the flower. The second sound, the one that Artemy cannot name, becomes a bit louder.

Artemy takes that as a good sign.

"Hm… Would it be alright if I moved you? I have a place where you can grow without having to worry about getting eaten," Artemy says to the plant. "I'll be right back with a pot."

Artemy hurries to his Lair, where he can properly grab a shovel and a pot to move the plant into the garden that he has been cultivating. He tells Sticky to prepare a spot for a new plant, and returns out into the steppe. He listens for the strange sound, and soon finds the strange plant again.

Artemy blinks. Has it moved? He could have sworn it looked more droopy moments ago than it did now.

Regardless, Artemy sets out to gently move the flower from the ground here to the pot he carries. Surprisingly, the roots are shallow, and it hardly takes any digging to move the plant from the soil into the pot.
Holding it close to his chest, Artemy returns to the Lair once more.

—

Two weeks after he settles the strange plant into the garden, a stranger arrives in town. Artemy only learns of this fact a few days after the event occurred, overhearing the chatter of townsfolk about a doctor from the Capital taking residence in the Stillwater.

Artemy is curious, but he rarely finds himself on that side of town. Though, the Stillwater was directly open to the steppe. He eavesdrops more, and learns a few things about the mysterious newcomer: Firstly, the man's name was Daniil Dankovsky. Secondly, he was a Bachelor of Medicine. Thirdly, and most strangely, there was nothing else to be learned. Artemy knew the townsfolk like he knew the herbs in the steppe—it was highly unlikely that the only two pieces of information that they could gather was the man's name and his profession.

Curiosity continues to gnaw at him. But still, he would not go see the man. The doctor was likely minding his own business, and was likely already being flocked by curious townsfolk. Artemy didn't want to add to that. However, Artemy was not above using Sticky as an excuse to go see. After all, Sticky requested oh-so-politely to be introduced to the doctor, wanting to ask the newcomer many questions about medicine and the like. So of course, Artemy had to trek over and ask if the doctor was available to be interviewed.

So here he stands, in front of the Stillwater. Artemy feels awkward, standing and doing nothing. But there's something that makes his skin crawl and his steps still, something more than the general unease of the Stillwater. Artemy shakes his head, and raises a hand to knock.

The door opens, almost immediately. Artemy still has his fist in the air. In front of him stands the man that must be the doctor. The first thing Artemy notices about the man is that he is short. The second, he notices how the man is dressed. A big leather coat with snakeskin wrapped around it, a red vest over a white blouse. A blood red cravat tied around his neck.

"…You must be Artemy Burakh," the doctor says.

Artemy lowers his hand. "Um. Yes. You must be Daniil Dankovsky."

Daniil's lips quirk up in a small smile. "Ah, you already know my name. Good. I'm glad you finally came."

"You were expecting me?"

"Naturally. We have a lot to discuss."

Daniil moves aside, motioning Artemy into the house. Artemy follows, though he has no idea what's going on. What rumors did Daniil hear? If they were the normal ones, then the doctor should be running in fear.

Daniil closes the door and moves past Artemy. A smell hits the Haruspex—a faint licorice smell. Not enough to be overpowering, but enough to get one's attention. Artemy follows Daniil all the way up to the top floor, where the doctor must have made his room. It's cluttered, which Artemy wouldn't have guessed from looking at Daniil.

Daniil motions Artemy to take a seat by the window while he sits at his desk.

Artemy just stands. "Um, I'm actually here to ask if you would be willing to be interviewed by my… assistant? He's a young boy, very interested in medicine."

"Oh? Of course, I'd be willing to," Daniil says. "Now please, sit. As I said, we have a lot to discuss."

"What do we have to discuss?" It comes out a bit harsher than he intends.
Daniil pauses, frowning a little in confusion. He looks off into the distance, eyes darting over something Artemy cannot see. Thinking. He looks back to Artemy. "…Well. I suppose you're right. Sorry, I got ahead of myself."

"Are you really a doctor from the Capital?" Artemy asks. Surely doctors from the Capital aren't as bizarre as you, he thinks.

"Yes, I am."

"Why have you come here? This town doesn't seem your… style."

Daniil leans back in his seat a little. "You're right. The town isn't really my style. However, I've come here on sabbatical. This town is… fascinating, in its own way. And I've been here before."

Artemy blinks. "You have? I've never seen you… When were you here?"

"Oh, I come by every September," Daniil answers. "Though, this is the first time I've actually acquired housing. Say, Artemy, may I tell you something?"

"Uh, sure…?"

Daniil gives him a look so earnest that it catches Artemy off guard. "When I look at you, I get the feeling that nature is playing jokes on us. It's as if both the left and right hands have grabbed the head to realize for the first time that they are part of one single whole."

Artemy blinks, his mouth gaping a little. That was incredibly profound.

Daniil seems to realize the same thing, because he coughs and scoots back in his seat, looking away from Artemy. "Ahem. Yes, sorry. That was a bit much, wasn't it? Uh, regarding the boy—your assistant—I'll be happy to speak with him. I'll be at your place later this evening, if that works for you. It's behind the factories, right?"

"Y-yes," Artemy says, lamely. His mind is still on what the man said.

Daniil gives another small smile. "I'll see you then. Please close the door on your way out."

Artemy mumbles a 'goodbye' and heads back down the stairs. He pauses at the doorway, bending down to pick up a petal off the ground. Pale, with red veins in it. Artemy sighs, he must have brought some loose petals in here from his garden.

It isn't until he's halfway there that he realizes that there's no way that Daniil should have been able to know where his Lair is.

Get this boy some new clothes

[(Anonymous)]

Because Notkin has become friends with Khan, the leader of the Soul-and-a-halves goes to the richer boy's house and discovers a terrible secret...

Khan... dresses exactly like his dad does.

Notkin endeavors to gather his friends together to help Khan get a different sense of fashion. Whether this succeeds or crashes and burns spectacularly is unknown.

Not a fill, but I felt inspired

[(Anonymous)]

"Him, I can understand!" Notkin pointed at Khan. "He doesn't buy his own clothes! But you do!" He then jabbed a finger accusingly at Victor. "So what's your excuse?"

'Was trying to bond with your son through the luxuries of designer clothing so wrong?' Victor wondered.

[(Anonymous)]

Either Artemy or Daniil have found themselves as a child again. I was imagining this as a drama, but comedy would be great too!

(Obligatory message but if you're going to have the characters in a pre-established Artemy/Daniil relationship, please don't do anything sexualized. That would be very uncool, no bueno, and I personally would die. If you're going to kill me, kill me with feels, not grossness. Thanks!)

Brought Low [1/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Hey what up? I'm OP and I decided to take a stab at filling my own prompt. Hope you enjoy!

---

“Wait. Tell me something. Are you Bachelor Daniil Dankovsky?”

“I am. Who are you? I don’t think we’ve ever met.” Daniil’s eyes looked down to face the man sitting against the outside of the theatre. The Theatre had not been in use for a while, so Dankovsky hadn’t expected there to be anyone around in the area.

Though his head was lowered from exhaustion, Mark Immortell still held a sharpness to his eyes and smile. “We did once before. But it’s to be expected if you don’t remember.”

“Excuse me, I do apologize. What was your name aga--”

“That’s not the important part.” Daniil’s eyes flinched when Mark cut him off. “I want to ask... do you still believe that you’ll conquer death?” Mark grinned. “Does that heart of yours still yearn for that impossible dream?”

“You’ve told me nothing about yourself and yet you expect me to drop and tell you everything in my heart?” Daniil replied.

“I wouldn’t normally ask. I’d just see it as clear as day. But now days I feel quite tired.”

Dankovsky scrutinized the other man, before softening his expression. “...You don’t look so well. Look, perhaps you’re in need of a medical consult. Are you in pain? If so then maybe we could do something about it.”

“Oh goodness gracious, you’re actually serious, aren’t you?” Marked chuckled, but it was followed by him wincing from a sudden pain in his gut, or what could be called one for a not-quite-a-person sort like him. The moment was silent between the two of them, and it seemed that Daniil’s concern was well founded. Mark was already feeling bruised as is, and this didn’t help.

“Sir,” Daniil begun. No one had ever called Mark sir before. Somehow this felt more like a slap to his ego than being called a more straight forward insult would be. “I’m a doctor. I only want to help. It doesn’t feel right to leave you on the ground in your condition.”

“Hm. A doctor you say? Then perhaps you should’ve noticed a more crucial detail first.” Mark reached behind his back, and had to hope he had enough power to conjure the prop he intended.

Daniil’s acquired reflexes led him to step back as Mark pulled out something from behind. It turned out to be a mere bottle of twyrine.

“Don’t mind me, doctor.” Mark smiled, and jostled the liquid inside. It was genuine. Never mind the fact that it hadn’t existed a single second before. “I was just enjoying the day. Care for a sip?”

“No,” Daniil’s eyes were those of one who had seen a falsehood committed in front of him. He glanced about at the spot where Mark had pulled the bottle from, trying to remember if it had been there before, but didn’t voice his suspicion. “That won’t be necessary. If that’s what this has all been about, then I’ll leave you to it.”

Before Daniil could turn around and do so, he was distracted by Mark’s increasingly large grin. “Your heart, Dankovsky. It’s kind and full of luminous ideas, but that’s also what makes it puerile. There might be some worth to those ideas though if you could separate the dross from the gold. Tell you what. Let’s give you that chance, and see what will win inside of you: an irresponsible and naive search for immortality, or perhaps a more grounded approach?”

“I won’t let myself take seriously the confused words of an alcoholic anymore. Enjoy your drink, kind sir. I’ll be off.” Dankovsky’s coat swirled as he turned away from the disheveled man, ignoring his gaze.

Mark watched Daniil become smaller with distance. “Do I have enough within me to direct another story, I wonder? I have the material in front of me. It practically writes itself. But can I put it into motion?” Mark asked himself.

Still staring at Daniil with the expectant eyes of a hawk, Mark raised his hand in the air and waited for just the right moment. He then snapped his fingers.

In the distance the dark-haired doctor stumbled on his feet, and caught himself before he could fall. His knees trembled for a brief time, but soon he found stability again and was able to straighten himself out. Mark saw Daniil rub at his face as he began to stumble away, but was still quite pleased at the result.

“Maybe I do have it in me after all. Here’s to the new story then.” Mark tilted the bottle of twyrine to drink from it, but then immediately began to cough. “Ugh. This stuff is stronger than I imagined it.” Mark wiped his mouth.

-

The old Burakh household. With the threat of the plague no longer present, and the desire to give the children he had adopted a better home to grow and live a peaceful life in than his old, blood-stained hideout, Artemy brought Sticky and Murky to live in the old home.

From within this home Artemy heard a banging against the door. When he went to open it he found Daniil pale and ill-looking on the other side.

“Daniil? What’s wrong?” Artemy asked.

“I don’t know. One moment I was fine, the next I’m dizzy, losing my balance, and my stomach is a mess. I barely managed to make it here as is. Artemy, I apologize greatly for the inconvenience, but can I trouble you for a bed to rest on?”

“It’s no trouble at all. You’re always welcome here. Please come in.” The menkhu stepped aside for Daniil to enter. Even inside the house, Daniil rubbed at his face, trying to get blood flow to the surface and restore some of his energy. Artemy offered his hand on the other man’s back for support as they walked.

Burakh’s adopted children, Sticky and Murky had been lounging in the kitchen as Daniil arrived unexpectedly. His sickly appearance startled even them. Murky looked up from playing with her doll, and Sticky stopped eating his sandwich mid-bite.

“Daniil.” Murky’s small voice called out. “Are you sick?”

“Just tired, that’s all.” Despite the weakness in his body, Daniil gave her a warm smile. “I just need to take a nap. Then I’ll be fine.”

“Do you... want to see the new flowers that I have collected?” She asked him.

“Ah, Murky, perhaps later. Daniil is feeling under the weather right now.” Artemy said.

“Sadly, the fellow’s right.” Daniil said wistfully. “But after a good rest I’ll feel right as rain, and would love to see the flowers then. That’s a promise.” As if he wasn’t pale and exhausted at all, he gave her a smile and a soft pat on the head. Murky as usual didn’t smile easily, but the expression on her lips wasn’t a frown either. It looked like there was something else she wanted to say, but Artemy couldn’t afford to indulge her at the moment.

“Come, erdem. We should probably get you to that bed now.” Artemy motioned for Daniil to follow him.

“Ah, of course.” Daniil said.

Artemy guided Daniil up the stairs to the second floor where there was a spare bed for the sudden guest to stay. Sticky and Murky, who were left behind had the space to themselves now.

Sticky was the first to speak. “Come on, Murky. Dankovsky’s not going to check out the flowers right now. He looked pretty sick. I hope he doesn’t throw up inside the house.”

“The flowers were supposed to help him feel better.” Murky frowned as she looked at the doll she was holding.

Sticky stood quiet, and considered what to say. He hadn’t meant to step on the quiet girl’s good intentions. She was often quite considerate in ways that Sticky still didn’t expect, which kept throwing him off guard.

“Hey...” Sticky started to say. “Maybe you could show me the flowers for now. As a little practice for when Dankovsky feels better? I like flowers too.”

Those were the magic words. Murky grinned and quickly dragged him by the hand to where the flowers were at.

_


“Thank you. I don’t know what came over me. Perhaps with rest this I’ll find this malady to just have been a temporary matter. I hate imposing on others, but you were the nearest doctor around.” Daniil apologized as he took off his shoes and his leather coat. His actions were both sluggish, and forced. He wanted to be in bed as soon as possible.

“Hopefully it’s because you know I’m your friend too.” Artemy said, but was paying attention more to the other man’s demeanor. As Daniil loosened the cravat around his neck, Artemy noticed his skin to be damp from sweat, and his eyes strained.

“Well of course, that too. I...” Daniil’s voice was cut off, and his mouth left open by the sudden way Artemy placed his hand on the other’s forehead. Artemy’s hand was pleasantly warm against his cold skin, but it was still unexpected.

“Cold sweats. It’s not a fever at least.” Artemy muttered.

“I don’t know what it is, Artemy, but I need the rest.” Daniil’s composure was dropping. He rubbed his face with both hands. “I’m sorry, I can’t really think that much anymore. I’ll speculate about it later.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll check on you in two hours. If anything happens though, use this.” Artemy pulled out a bronze-colored bell from his pocket and placed it on the table beside the bed.

“A bell?” Dankovsky looked at it. It was one of the bull bells that had steppe runes in its interior. In a town based heavily in its export of meat, spare bells were often found everywhere. Artemy had likely received it from one of Sticky’s or Murky’s exploits outside, though as the town’s menkhu there was always the chance that it was his own.

“Ring it in case anything happens. Or even for something as small as a cup of water. I’ll be there.” Artemy said in a somber way that threw Daniil off.

“Artemy, I’m not dying. At least I don’t think so.” Daniil blinked at the thought. “But still, thank you.”

The menkhu considered the exhaustion in Daniil’s eyes, and whether it would be fine to leave him unattended or not. Without any clues yet to judge the situation beyond mere, if not sudden, fatigue, he didn’t want to push himself any longer against the desires of his guest to get well-needed rest. “Of course. Rest well.” He decided to say before closing the door behind him.

_

The children mobbed Artemy with questions as soon as he went to check in on them. What was Daniil (the children were familiar enough with Daniil to not call him by Dankovsky any longer) doing here? Was he sick? Did he throw up? The children were concerned for him in their own way, Artemy knew, and he replied that Daniil needed things to be quite for now so he could sleep. He was going to be alright, Artemy assured them.

Sticky and Murky were satisfied by this, and vowed to continue the day as usual but with more quiet. That turned out to be quite useful for Artemy, as he endeavored to keep his ears on alert for the sound of the bell. He went about his own daily business, washing dishes and preparing a hearty stew, enough for the whole house including the newfound guest, all the while paying attention in the back of his mind for a noise that would cause him to drop whatever he was doing.

It was at the other end of the house entirely where Artemy heard the plaintive bell ring at last. The bell’s peals were weak but deliberate. It was a relief to hear the noise, because it meant that Daniil was awake and conscious at least. However, Artemy also knew that Daniil was the sort of person who wouldn’t call out for frivolous reasons.

His boots sounded on the wooden steps as he walked up the stairs. The bell continued to ring. Once he reached the top, the bell stopped.

Daniil was surely waiting for him, Artemy thought. But what was the reason? He had stopped ringing once Artemy was near, and yet said nothing. The air was quiet, and full of questions. Perhaps Daniil was just the type to avoid raising his voice if unnecessary.

Artemy knocked on the door to the guest room. “Daniil, you rang for me? Shall I come in?”

There was no answer for a while, before the bell rung out once more before being choked, and stifled.

Artemy opened the door.

The sight of the bed was most definitely not as it was before he left. The blanket had been pulled away from the sides of the bed and bunched together into a pile in the center. The piled shape was indistinct, so Artemy had no clue what exactly was within. Daniil being inside might have been the natural presumption, but the whole situation felt uneasy and made Artemy tense.

By the size of the pile, if Daniil were inside then he’d have to be tightly curled up to fit. Was he in dire pain?

“Daniil? Is that you under the blankets?” Artemy asked blindly, hoping and yet not hoping.

There was something most definitely alive under the blankets. Its breath hitched, and the blanket pile on top of it writhed in response. Then, a gap appeared under the blanket and out came the bull bell along with the arm holding it. A small, thin arm.

Another arm soon followed and stuck itself out from the blanket. Its hand hesitated before pulling the blanket away at last to reveal what was underneath the entire time. As the shape underneath rose and emerged, Artemy’s breath choked in his throat.

Black hair. Clothes that struggled to fit, and instead engulfed. Small hands that clutched at the bull bell. And dark, frightened eyes. Very, very frightened eyes.

“...Yes.” The child trembled at the sound of his own voice. “I’m… right here.”

[(Anonymous)]

Aglaya can see Eva’s ghost in the Cathedral. Maybe a love story?

[half fill, half poem, a quarter spoilers]

[(Anonymous)]

Pale see-through skin,
Hair as blonde as a white whip,
A girl full of hope wishes to give life through death,
The dreamer dies before the inquisitor may arrive,
But the judge of morality sees her anyhow,

Lady of light,
Makes the dark cathedral shine,
Judge of kind,
Decides the betrayal of her own life was what damned her,
Only of helping a building long ago decided to be broken,
Yet if anyone's betrayal could be valid,
It would be that of the girl who cared too much,
Though in giving company to the lost building,
Company is given to the judge of kind who is given no kindness,

She only wishes death was not what separated them,
Because they were attached through intense feelings,
Ones which never left,
Even after the inquisitor perishes,
Only then are they allowed to love in full.

[(Anonymous)]

Post-game. Andrey died of plague, Peter survived. Twinless twin angst fest!

[fill]

[(Anonymous)]

(I'll be crossposting this onto ao3 btw)

Not even the whispers of the town could give a moment’s solace. Nothing could, the words just drifted by his ears trying to turn his attention from the harsh reality before him. They were all so loud overwhelming.
Maria had words, Daniil had words, Anna had words. But none of them had a god damn thing to help.

Not that there was anything to help at this point. His brother was just one of the many bodies claimed by the sand plague. But yet his fist clenched thinking of how everyone failed his brother. The Bachelor most of all. Yet it was hard to hate that man, he owed that man his own life and logically he knew that he had done all he could.

And none of it had been enough to save his larger than life brother, who while had accomplished much could have done so much more with just scraps more time. He had done every impossible thing that he came across, except beat death.

The studio was dim as if a blanket of clouds blocked out the sun, yet through the dirty windows was a view of the first clear day the town had seen in nearly two weeks. Candles carelessly placed on the floor flicker shining light over half finished pages and ink stains.

Peter sat at his desk, hunched over a design for a grave. As he drew the final line it hit him, there was no one to place this idea into reality. A sad laugh echoed through the all too quiet loft. Andrey was the one equipped for this, not him. It was by a miracle he hadn’t already drunk himself dead.

For all the complicated feelings and misery Andrey brought on Peter still had loved his brother. And needed him, needed him badly. Staring at the design of his brother’s headstone made it hit real and raw. He had not a clue what to do without his brother.

Wood scraped against wood as he pushed himself up from the desk. His nails scratch and dig into the worn wood of the desk. His face scrunched up till he couldn’t see clearly as tears rolled down his weathered and exhausted face.

“I wish we could speak one last time, brother.”

The air didn’t reply.

Their last talk had been as mundane as circumstances allowed. They had just been questioned by the Inquisitor and going their separate ways. Andrey had seemed like he wanted to talk about something later, but Peter would never be certain now.

“Please… just tell me what to do without you…”

He never fathomed the idea that Andrey’d be the first of them to die. He always had reckoned it’d be him.

His hand grabbed the nearest bottle of twyrine and without a moment’s hesitation had the cork out of the neck of it. The warmth in his chest from the alcohol was the only warmth he could say his heart had felt since the news broke to him.

Poor Daniil had to be the one to tell him, had to be the one to see the pitible outburst that came afterwards. Shouts turned to sobs turned to silence. At some point during the sobbing or the silence Daniil had left as when Peter had looked up again he was gone. He couldn’t blame him for leaving.

As he started to move in the direction of the couch his coat, trailing behind him brushed too close for comfort with one of the burning candles. But comfort was for sober men with brothers who were alive.

Strength of will was something he had always lacked. Maybe that’s why he so often went along with Andrey’s ideas. He never was able to fight his own battles, it was one of his greatest flaws. And worse was that his problems weren’t ones someone else could save him from.

Ha, he couldn’t even make it to the couch before giving up and sinking to the floor. Letting the twyrine’s song sooth him to some sleep. Perhaps at least he’d see his brother in his dreams.

Perhaps that’s where some sense of closur-

Fearing your own self

[(Anonymous)]

I'm still completely sure about the nature of Mark Immortell in Pathologic 2 and what it means to see him outside of the theater, but here goes the concept of my prompt:

There are two Mark Immortells. The one who exists within the Theater's meta layer, and who has access to knowledge and abilities beyond the ability of any human person. And then there's the mundane one, the one who is, give or take, exactly who he claims to be: the organizer of the theater in the Town-on-Gorkhon.

I think it'd be interesting to see how the two Marks would relate to each other, especially when the human Mark could be viewed as nothing more than a shallow 'act' by the powerful, nonhuman Mark. Would the human Mark be flattered, if not only initially, to be associated with an otherworldly entity? Or perhaps instead would he struggle with his own sense of identity, and rebel?

Bonus: What if the human Mark starts to feel his consciousness slip and blend with that of his unnatural alter ego? It could result in him starting to see the world as fake/constructed, and/or inadvertently changing some parts of the world with a thought from his mind and a wave of the hand.

op

[(Anonymous)]

"I'm still completely sure" I meant to say that I'm NOT completely sure urrrghh.

Someone is a killer

[(Anonymous)]

One of the doctors in town is a type of killer known as an angel of death, a medical professional who kills their vulnerable patients.

Re: Someone is a killer

[(Anonymous)]

oh god oh fuck this is killing me from the drama and suspense but I'm also very interested to see how this would turn out. Seconded.

[(Anonymous)]

How does the Pathologic cast react to fanfiction of themselves? Or maybe instead flip it around to put it in-universe instead of being meta, but if the Pathologic cast got into a fandom in the Town-on-Gorkhon, how would that play out?

Vlad Jr.: the fanfic

[(Anonymous)]

Is it Vlad Jr. in a fanfic, or is it Vlad Jr. writing a fanfic? The mind wonders.

[(Anonymous)]

Pathologic 1 era Dankovsky and the Pathologic 2 era version of himself interact with each other. Chaos ensues.

[(Anonymous)]

A fic where instead of saying a phrase in Latin, Daniil legitimately just says "Lorem Ipsum."

Blind Date

[(Anonymous)]

Which ever characters that you'd like to see have been paired together through a blind date and/or romantic dinner. The date may or may not work out however.

pocket danko? pocket danko.

[(Anonymous)]

daniil gets cursed, and now he's barely any bigger than clara's hand! what's he going to do? is he going to have to wear doll's clothes? is he going to have to drink out of a thimble? how undignified!

i'm looking for pure fluff and hijinks, no angst! bonus if artemiy's the one who's helping him out. super mega bonus if artemiy ACTUALLY puts danko in his big dopey tummy pocket.

Mark Immortell & or / Bad Grief

[(Anonymous)]

I just think they should have a chat.

Artemy/Grief or Grief/Rubin - confession of childhood crush

[(Anonymous)]

What it says on the tin! (And it doesn’t necessarily have to end up in them dating; I think this would be equally as sweet as an acknowledgment of a past fondness, but dating is DEFINITELY more than fine!)

No preference on who’s confessing to whom :)

Re: Grief/Rubin - confession of childhood crush [FILL]

[(Anonymous)]

Stakh took another drink of his twryne, how he was ended sitting here in his warehouse with Grief sitting on the boxes in the corner was a loss to him. He really didn't understand why he let Grief get under his skin so easily. But he had given in to his suggestion of letting loose. Only allowing such a thing in the privacy of a place many didn't even acknowledge existed.

"And you always got hurt when we were younger, god I swear every other day you came to me with a new injury to fix. Cub always handed you off, he might have fixed you up twice in five years." Stakh was smiling through his retelling of the events, he had been exasperated by it once, but looking back at it now he could easily see it as a staple of his childhood. Something that pulled him away from so many conversations, but as much as he complained and teased he doesn't remember ever hating it. Not fully.

"No, Artemy was just a parrot for so many of our misadventures. Though I give him merit for his trust. I ask for one favor and he never lets go of it." Grief told, which made Stakh roll his eyes and scoff.

"Drop the dramatics, tell me what you want to say and don't put a mask on. It's annoying." Stakh told, resting his own elbows on his knees as he looked to where Grief sat. Always on boxes, always at places he shouldn't be. As if climbing everything will give him an advantage.

"Fine, fine," Grief moved off the boxes, taking steps down as he spoke. "You wanna know the real reason behind Artemy never fixing me up?"

"Tell me." Stakh took another drink from the bottle, holding it out to offer Grief. They'd been passing it back and forth since nightfall.

Grief took the bottle and handed it back to Stakh after a swig. "I asked had him when I was like ten if he would let you be the only one to patch me up. Kind asshole kept up with it too till... well ya know that part."

Grief broke his leg after falling off from the top of their warehouse roof, Stakh had been the only one not present at the incident. He only saw Grief's bandaged up leg and the praise Artemy got for his quick thinking and work. Something that Stakh had thought about a lot when it had happened because of course the one time he wasn't there to fix Grief up when he got hurt Artemy got a gold star for doing so. Of course, the time Grief actually needs help Stakh isn't there. He was naturally bad at things like that.

"Why would you do that?" Stakh asked, already having ten predictions on the true answer and what was most likely but wanting to see how Grief would respond. One particular one he hoped for a bit more than the rest.

"You were a year younger than me, taller, smarter, and more handsome than anything I ever could have been. I fancied you, simple as that." Grief told, leaning against the wall yet still looking at everywhere besides Stakh. It was an honest confession, told heartfully. "You never noticed?"

" I just... thought that was how you were. Quite dramatic and trying to get the attention of others through daring acts of stupidity. It felt like you were trying to win everyone's favor." Stakh told, watching Grief's movements. He might have asked himself that when they were younger but no one showed interest in Stakh. He had to push to be wanted, and he only ever pushed for that want by... outside sources. No one his friends would know, someone he could avoid again if needed.

"You are such the charmer Stanislav, no wonder you've never been single." Stakh dramatically rolls his eyes towards Grief which only makes him laugh. "Lara I just liked to annoy, she was basically my older sister, I enjoy being a pain in the ass and loved her so I was always like that with her. As for Cub..."

Grief trails off, looking towards the door as if searching for words he doesn't know how to find. "He was Artemy Burakh, ya know?"

He looked back to Stakh with a faint smile and a knowing look. Which Stakh understood completely and telling from that he found in that look they had been in a similar position with their feelings for their friend.

"But you... you weren't two years older than me, destined to be some town leader, from some noble family, you didn't have the parents or the money. You studied hard and earned your spot in that house, you were three years younger than Artemy and always just as smart as him." Grief told, watching his hands as he played with them.

"So you liked me because I was a poor, orphan who no one cared about, had no future and studied?" Stakh asked, almost teasing his word choice but not actually joking with any of it.

"You're so dramatic Stakh. I liked you because you cared and worked hard. You put the time in the three of us never did as kids. And yeah, we were on common ground which isn't a bad reason to like you. During the plague we found we still are, we just end up in the same place. We tend to have no choice in it either." Stakh watched the door during this, the description felt strange and almost as if it wasn't really about him. He was bad at understanding... compliments? Was that what this was? He really couldn't tell.

"So what made you stop feeling like that?" Stakh asked once more, letting curiosity run his questions. Of course, Grief would confess to such feelings only long after he stopped feeling them. People often didn't find it worthwhile to pursue him.

"Hm, oh maybe it was when you and Lara decided to shun me after Artemy left and I started doing unlawful things. As if just knowing me would make you two go to jail." Grief's tone turned a bit harsh and regret filled Stakh's chest. Yeah, he fucked up with that one.

"I'm... sorry about that. It was unfair of us to that." Stakh told, looking towards his friend. Grief nodded but his eyes were softer than before and he hoped he believed that. Stakh found it annoyingly hard to apologize about things like that, but for some reason, he felt like he should do it here and now. For some reason, he decided that he had the courage to do it.

Lara said his avoidance of apologizes when he was so clearly in the wrong was often the reason for most of his and Artemy's problems. Lara was often correct about most things.

"No, I... didn't actually ever get over it." Grief grabbed the bottle and took another drink from it. It was close to empty by now, which made sense considering how long they had been talking.

"Oh." Stakh knew that was a horrible response to a confession of attraction. But it also an accident and all he knew how to say. He stood up.

"Does that mean you would be okay with me saying that fixing you up as a kid taught me how to work under nervous pressure?" He tried, unsure how to actually say what he wanted but knowing how to bring it up. Isidor had put him through his own trials but Grief was the first and consistent person he had to work on by himself.

"Mhm." Grief smiled, looking up to the other man. He was intimidating, tall, stoic, an asshole, yet nervous. Even now Stakh looked as if people would come in here and hurt him.

He pushed off the wall, standing in front of Rubin. "If that still could be the case, then..."

Rubin stared at his lips, nerves spiking which made him look at the door once more. As if him having the possibility of a good time would lead to someone knocking down the door and hurting them. Though sometimes it really did feel like every time something good happened it was followed by something worse.

By the time he looked back to Grief, the redhead had his hand up to his collar and pulled him down for their lips to meet.

Lara also always said Stakh seemed to need a push, but once he fell he did it with great expertise. Grief believed Lara more often then he believed himself.