41 - 60 of 277 Works in Post-Diurnal Ending (Pathologic)
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Небольшая зарисовка жизни Стаха и Грифа на складах после эпидемии песчанки. Оба уже не так сильно злятся на мир и самих себя, понемногу привыкают к тараканам друг друга.
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It’s not so much a clock as a wife’s bodypart, this; one of an ensemble as individual bones are to skeletons. Trying to time her essence in the house alone could never be sufficient. The whole town, on the other hand, the whole town was Nina as much as she was it. Whatever place Olgimskaya might have held is now overshadowed by her rival’s darkhand, and it is enough, then, for a man to play resurrectionist.
[Day 13, in which the Clockmaker reflects on possible outcomes]
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He thinks about what a fucking miracle it is that he’s still alive, and his chest tightens again.
The problem with survival isn’t the here and now, Artemy is beginning to realise; that’s easy. Here and now, what matters is taking another breath, is pushing through whatever is happening into the next moment. Doing what you need to get done when your life is on the line and, by proxy, the lives of countless others, isn’t the hardest part.
That is what comes after, when you’re no longer gasping for air, when there are no longer singular moments to gather your thoughts but an endless stretch of time ahead of you with no more looming disaster to take your mind off of the future.
Now, that’s where he finds himself; in the future, inside that vague notion of hope he was clinging to for weeks as he sprinted across town, plague clouds chasing his heels, herbs and bottles and raw human organs jostling around in his medic bag, dead bodies left in his wake. The whole time, the future was on his mind, getting himself and his children and his friends to it, and now it’s here and he doesn’t know what to do when he’s stopped running.
Series
- Part 1 of Dreams of a tomorrow
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Daniil and Artemy and the family they build together.
Follow up to vita in motu, but that's not necessary to read first.
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There is a heavy silence that hangs between the two. Both parties have better things to do than engage further in this strange scene, yet both are also too stubborn to be the one to pull away. To break the intensity, to try and salvage what is usually a decently amicable professional relationship. So they hang in suspension, and time ticks on as it always does. Inching closer and closer.
For a moment, when he sees movement and feels warmth against him, he assumes Burakh has merely brushed past him at a brisk pace. Perhaps trying to jostle him on purpose as he storms off to his other duties for the day.
That theory dissipates into dust when Burakh is caressing him, and soft full lips are flush against his.
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Daniil Dankovsky doesn't have a firm grasp on time. -
On Carapaces and Venom by immaculate deceptions (kath_trashh)
Fandoms: Мор. Утопия | Pathologic
29 Jun 2024
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The folktale about the frog and the scorpion always comes to mind when Daniil Dankovsky thinks about innate traits. Innate habits, innate penchants. A scorpion can’t change the fact it wants desperately to plunge its venomous stinger into unsuspecting flesh, just as a frog can’t change the fact that it’s powerless to stop the scorpion from stinging in the first place.
And Daniil Dankovsky, the founder of Thanatica, thinks that he can’t change the fact that he’s a snake.
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In which Daniil Dankovsky ponders, and breaks, on the idea of unchanging natures.
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“I have reached a crossroads,” Daniil eventually admits, squinting out against the Steppe with a sigh. “One with no roads to take. No matter where I turn, it will be a walk into the nothingness of unpaved ground. I think I may stay in your Town for a while, yet.”
It’s said in the way he says most things, which is oddly, but Artemy decides to interpret it how he wants to. He steps forward, pulling Daniil into an unresisted if unreciprocated hug. “I’m glad you want to,” Artemy says, realising how true it is. “It is a better Town for having you in it.”
That's a blessing. There are so many things he needs to do, people he has neglected, and it's not until the words are out there that he realised how afraid he'd been of having to fix it all alone.
OR: Turns out, having to rebuild after the apocalypse - and its end - is a slower process than he'd hoped.
OR 2: Artemy just wants his children to be okay. He would also quite like to figure out what the fuck it is he feels towards Daniil, neither of which turn out to be an easy process.
Series
- Part 2 of A story about people
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How much failure can a person endure?
After the epidemic at the Town-On-Ghorkon, General Block was called under investigation over his dubious victory over the Sand Pest. The Capital is fed up with the general getting another feather in his cap and wants to remove his influence. Artemy Burakh offers a different form of punishment. Instead of ending his life, Burakh suggests Block serve his life to one of the people he has wronged.
Perhaps Lara and Alexander Block would find a way to live again.
Chapter 7: Let's Sit for a Moment Before We Travel
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Daniil catches something during one of his house visits.
It's probably nothing.
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Now that hope and misfortune have brought Daniil back to the Town, he will have to decide whether he can bear to ever leave again - or to stay.
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Artemy hit the floor on his knees with a resounding wooden thunk, a sting of surprised tears in the corners of his eyes, and an instant lunge of arousal in the pit of his gut.
Daniil stood over him like a black cloud brooding on the horizon. He must not have had more than the half-glass of vodka he’d set aside – the flush in his cheeks was still faint and delicate, his eyes still clear and bright as lightning cracking through that brooding cloud. His hands still hovered in the air, as if he’d expected pushing Artemy to the floor to take more force than that. -
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Chukovsky said kids only like happy endings, and I never promised anyone to grow past that.
So I'm writing a Pathologic fanfic in which all ends well and everyone* is fine**.Series
- Part 1 of Saccharine
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Daniil watched the bedroom curtains wafting in the breeze and tried to take them as proof. He had never seen their pale gold and russet pattern in what had proven to be only his dreams – they had only been a gently-blowing border of his world since he’d woken here, in Artemy’s own home, apparently in the very early stages of recovering from the Sand Pest.
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Following the destruction of the Polyhedron, issues with water supply make continuous creation of the panacea a difficult prospect. It wouldn't be a problem if the sand pest didn't kill its victims within 24 hours... and Bad Grief has fallen ill at the worst time. He might just be an unfortunate statistic in the bigger picture, but Artemy isn't planning to lose any more loved ones to the disease.
...And what is it that Grief is hiding?
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“Mark my words,” Andrey said. “One day, I’ll be off to the Front. You want me to send you back a finger?”
Lara's grip tightened on the mug. “I want his whole head.”
He laughed, sitting heavily on the bed beside her. “You’d have to come along for that.”
In which Lara and Andrey find common ground.
Series
- Part 2 of One Hell of a Trash Fire
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“My father. I think he feared there would be no more menkhu after me.”
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“He didn’t trust me to continue the work.” It is a mumbled admission, as though there was nothing more shameful in his life.'Artemy has some complicated feelings about his father. Daniil does his best to help.
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When Lara and Daniil coincidentally confess their feelings to Artemy on the same day, the three of them decide to figure out what a happy life might look like together.
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The plague passes but Daniil still struggles both mentally and physically, Artemy is thankfully there to provide comfort.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,850
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 26
- Hits:
- 498
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A crueler, more self-preserving part of Artemy told him to just leave the Bachelor in the grass where he lay, but the part of him that took in his father’s children and trudged through infected districts to distribute immunity boosters every day was louder.
It always was.“Why don’t you stay with me for a few hours? The bull’s blood can wait at least that long.”
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Daniil was ogling. Again. He felt his mouth agape at the scene. How could he not? Artemy and Rubin stuck out against the dark tiles of the roof, practically seducing his gaze away from his nondescript path. But although, at a quick glance, Rubin had a fair physique that can easily be the envy of any Capital man, Daniil’s eyes were solely a slave to Artemy’s form.
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Artemy is the perfect lover and Daniil feels guilty for, in other words, feeling a lack of satisfaction.