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Andrey's timbre is low enough to reach the pit of Daniil's stomach when he asks:
“Do you think I could kill you tonight?"
Those dark eyes yearn to keep his wrist under his thumb and press upon his pulse until his fingers go blue. It is truly neither win nor lose for either of them when Daniil responds with, “I want you to try.”
In which the Bachelor dies from a hand that has killed him before.
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Grief's men don't know how to hide their sticky fingers, and Andrey wants payment back.
Things fall to... "Alternative" means.
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
22 Jun 2026
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"We have to do it regardless," he said, lacking any semblance of romance. "We aren't getting any younger."
"We don't have to," she said, continuing to scrub the dishes. She handed a plate to him and he dried it off, placing it in one of the high-up shelves she couldn't reach without a step ladder.
"But we're expected to."
"By who?" she laughed. "No one cares what we do."
(In which Lara and Rubin undergo a marriage of convenience without considering the most sacred traditional element of such a union: the consummation.)
- Language:
- English
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- 6,936
- Chapters:
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- Collections:
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- Comments:
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- Kudos:
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Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
14 Jun 2026
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During one of many lonely nights, at a particularly low point, a shadow outside the window shows up with an offer. One that should be easy to refuse… Right?
(A palegun comic! A NSFW, sketchy, and self-indulgent one at that!)
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
26 Apr 2026
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Artemy brute forces his way into other people's business. Grief is not surprised, even when he tries to keep it vague, in order to hide what Stakh's up to. He supposes he also shouldn't be surprised by the lengths Artemy will go to in order to protect the people he loves, however. Perhaps he's sympathetic.
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
11 Apr 2026
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Tthe only thing that his adrenaline addled brain offered before closing up shop for the foreseeable future was to suddenly — and loudly — clamp both of his hands on Artemy Burakh’s ass.
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
04 Apr 2026
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A glimpse at each of their lives, in the years after artemy left
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
12 Mar 2026
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Grief can't help but be charmed by the good Bachelor's pique, and by his delusion of authority. "Ah yes, you did say something like that when last we met. How'd you put it... I'd be begging you to come?" He circles round the Bachelor, eyeing him with the interest of a vulture; not a predator, but something lying in wait for a creature to lose its will to live. At his back, he leans in and murmurs next to his ear, "Don't make promises you can't keep, mate."
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The Bachelor trades with Bad Grief.
Series
- Part 2 of Pathologic Kinkmeme Fills
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
08 Mar 2026
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After the Plague, Artemy travels to the Capital to understand the present, and finds the past. Now with a Russian translation.
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
21 Feb 2026
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“You’re more lifelike than you think,” Clara says, eyes crinkling with her smile in a way that makes her look older than she should. “What did you say about that wretched woman? ‘She’s almost human’, that was it. Yes… you’re almost human.”
“‘Almost’ isn’t good enough,” he retorts. “A silkworm’s almost a moth, sure. But try askin’ it to fly, d’you think it’ll get very high?”
“Nobody’s asking you to fly, Grief.” She purses her lips in consideration, then shakes her head. “Except for yourself… that is.”
~
Grief and Clara talk about fate, freedom, and why the Bachelor's departure is really for the best.
Series
- Part 6 of Bad Grief Goon Cave
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
27 Jan 2026
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"I came," Burakh says, eyes bright and honest as they meet Daniil's, "because you asked."
Intense, Daniil thinks, unbidden—his piercing gaze, his rumbling voice. As if he doesn't know how to be any other way.
"And," Daniil drawls as he steps forward, suddenly emboldened, "does a Warden of the Kin go wherever he's beckoned?"
"No. But a surgeon might, for a colleague." Straightforward, simple, with little hesitation. Burakh looks at Daniil as he moves closer, but doesn't pull away. Then Burakh falters—a rare sight, in the time Daniil's known him—before he continues, quieter than before. "Or a man might, for a friend."
On Day 12, on the cusp of his defeat, the Bachelor asks for one final favor.
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
26 Jan 2026
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“Oh, love?” Grigory lowered his voice, speaking just between the two of them. He plucked the harmless word from Artemy’s mouth. Finders keepers. “You know, you can buy things with Love.”
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
22 Jan 2026
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Farkhad exits the stage too soon. The Bachelor faces a terrible choice.
A collaborative fanwork.
Loosely based on Rope, the 1929 play by Patrick Hamilton.
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
18 Jan 2026
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His heart squirmed with the effort of beating evenly beneath Andrey's gaze. His hands ached in the fist they held together under the table.
"I see." Andrey measured out the words like a foreign delicacy with a flavour more to be judged than enjoyed. "No twyre. No coin. You know that leaves you with only one currency I'd be willing to accept."
Gratitude burned pitifully across Artemy's skin. He wouldn't have to say it, then. Only nod, and wait, and catch his breath- but refuse to shrink back- when Andrey's long fingers lifted under his chin.
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
16 Jan 2026
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“There is nothing else outside.” Piotr's voice. charming — not because he tries. Charming because it's a little bit fragile. [...] Because the edges are frayed. Because there's heart to it [...]. He's trying to mean it.
“Is that what you wish was true?” Rubin asks.
“That is what I'm trying to make true,” Piotr doesn't-quite-agree.
He wants the world outside gone maybe as much as Rubin does. For what reason? What is there, outside, for Rubin? — there's his master in the ground, there's a hole in the ground in a shape of another man's master, and the other man's master's not in it. Where is this other man's master? He is in a masterless man's hands. Nobody must know. In the world outside, there is knowledge, there is a hunt, there's the wait for the other sword to drop. And what is there, outside, for Piotr? There's his tower. It claws a hole through him. [...] And so Rubin stays the night.
A collection of expansive vignettes in which two men who have something wrong with them get closer to each other. A kiss that feels like the lover wants to crawl inside. A dream in which he does. Peter ripping a man's throat out in self-defense. The mechanisms of fluids.
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
05 Jan 2026
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“You're a surgeon. You would have dug it all out of my gut.” Artemy thinks of his face in the unnatural light of the Polyhedron filtering in through the window late that night, and he looks at blood-spattered skin in front of him now, the way Dankovsky is daring him with his non-commitment.
“I would have.” Like many other things at this stage in his performance, it would have followed him for the remainder of his life, but he sees himself in that alternate path. Daniil’s cold eyes, his smock covered in still-warm blood as Artemy digs through a dead man’s stomach for the piece of paper that will save thousands of lives and condemn... A hundred souls? Are they that few? That many? Will he ever truly know how many of Boddho’s children he’s going to slaughter before night falls? Will he have the time to count them, or will they turn to ashes the second the earth bleeds dry beneath them?
“I’ll tell you,” Daniil says. "I will – the way I’d tell a close, intimate friend.” Artemy should have kissed him that time, in the bed at the Stillwater, when Daniil was whispering to him in this same voice about their destinies entangling. Maybe things could have been different. “Have I ever told you about my Thanatica?”
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
14 Dec 2025
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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
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
14 Dec 2025
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“… I’d say good morning,” Dankovsky said at length, a little hoarsely, “but I’m afraid I’ve lost track of the time. Good … something, Haruspex.”
“Afternoon. You look—” Artemy began, and broke off.
“Yes? What ghoulish thing do I resemble today?” Daniil blew out some smoke, staring pensively ahead. “A striga, perhaps.”
“—better,” Artemy finished. “Less like you’d gone already, and are only haunting me.”
That shut Daniil’s mouth.
[Or: a rendezvous with danger, one very cold winter.]
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
20 Oct 2025
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"Have you ever heard of homosexuality?" Dankovsky asks, a confident non-sequitor.
The breath gets seized out of Artemy's lungs.
"'Homo', in this case meaning 'of the same'," Dankovsky continues as if he didn't just yank Artemy's arm out of its socket with his words – or push it into place, rather? "Homogeneous, homologous, homomorphous – "
"We're opposites," Artemy chokes out. "Didn't you say?"
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
16 Oct 2025
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The three healers try to cope.
Bookmarked by fleshtrifecta
06 Oct 2025