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Main blog: kawoshjn (it's a mess over there)
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this blog is inspired by shmowder and thanaticalism
Adri & 26 & they/them & Dankovsky Apologist
I adore Pathologic so I decided to make a side blog dedicated to it. I will mostly be sharing writing and thoughts and am happy to answer asks and chat! Will update this post as time goes by...
DNI: under 18, terf, mean :(
Please interact if: you have love and kindness and whimsy in your heart <3
Hiii, you're so sweet and your fics so nice, idk if you do this kind of prompt but if you could do anything with manic or mid psychosis or hallucinating (and stubborn) Daniil, and Artemy gently forcefully taking care of him despite protests, I'd love you so much, if that's not your thing, feel free to ignore, I'll love you all the same! Have a splendid night!
"I'll love you all the same" is so tender and lovely nobody would believe me if I said it came from an anon request. So I wrote you a 3.5k+ word one-shot! ♡
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
Despite his own exhaustion, Artemy Burakh seeks out a distressed Bachelor Dankovsky, concerned about his state of mind and wanting to make sure he's okay. He isn't.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Act 1 of the Daniil Dankovsky vampire au fic finally comes to a close...
It was Daniil who avoided eye contact now, feeling the earnest eyes of Artemy Burakh—not-surgeon, not-botanist, not-patricide—boring into him and stripping him of his defences.
Hiya this is probs a silly request but can you do some headcanons for Daniil as a cat dad. He just seems the type.
yesssssss he'd either have a cat or he'd keep stick insects or something. Would have to be a low maintenance pet to some degree for his busy self-absorbed lifestyle. He would NOT have a dog. He's enough of a bitch already... ₍^. .^₎⟆
also!! there is no such thing as a silly prompt this is sooo cute (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
He wouldn't go out of his way to adopt or buy a pet. Too much on his mind to be responsible for another life. The most likely scenario is he moves into a new place and the old inhabitants didn't take their cat with them. He just lets the thing live in his space when he can't find the original family to return it.
He's surprised to find he doesn't mind it too much. The cat knows the flat well already, keeps to itself, is wary of him and he prefers it that way. The cheap cat food from the market seems to be enough for it and as a bonus it doesn't eat up his wallet.
The first time things seem to shift is after a particularly rough day in the lab. Every single thing that could have gone wrong, went wrong. He's tightly wound, frustrated to the point of feeling a treasonous burn in his eyes. The cat, mostly keeping away from him until this point, decides to climb into his lap, and purr. It doesn't fix everything, how could it? But that horrid tension that felt buckling just a few minutes prior starts to subside just enough that he can think straight again. He thinks maybe this creature isn't so bad. He buys it the slightly more expensive food the next day, as a thank you.
The cat becomes his little assistant, a living creature to use as a soundboard to bounce ideas off of when his mind is too full or moving too fast. It always seems to know to meow at the good ideas. In reality, he subconsciously asks "what do you think about that?" when he's convinced an idea is a good one, and the cat knows if he meows to that question he gets a little treat. Dankovsky prefers to think the cat is on his wavelength anyway.
Months go by before he realises... his cat doesn't have a name. It's the first time he thinks of it as his cat, too. A subtle but meaningful shift. It's always been him and the cat, the cat and he. He calls him Dima. He argues it's after Dmitri Mendeleev, wanting to seem as if his cat is named after some great man and that he put a lot of thought into it. In reality, the excuse came after the name was already chosen. He just thinks the nickname is cute. Serafima would tease him to no end if she knew.
One time he had a work trip and the family next door watched Dima for him. When he returned, though Dima ignored him for two days afterwards to punish him for leaving, the neighbour's little girl had left a crayon drawing of the cat on his coffee table. He carries it around in his wallet now like it's a family photo. It is, in a way.
Dima is the only one who can pull Dankovsky from his desk when he's clearly overworked, jumping up on his papers and knocking pens over until Daniil gives him attention, getting him to pet him in a way that the cat seems to know calms Daniil down.
Dima gets a little... shall we say... rotund after some time, but the weight of his well-fed cat on his lap is something Daniil doesn't know how he ever lived without. He tries to put him on a diet, but it's no use. The cat knows his weak spots and utilises them effectively to get more treats. Oh well.
Dima has his own spot on Dankovsky's bed. He's very territorial of it. Daniil has a few scratches on his legs to prove it. He gets it though; he sometimes feels like scratching people who encroach on his personal space too. They have a mutual understanding.
A year down the line, Daniil, who once only purchased the cheapest food and ignored the strange cat living in his flat, is making his cat Dima food from scratch and finding his normally organised space littered with toys that jingle and crinkle under foot and paw.
Neither cat nor man chose this arrangement, but the quiet understanding and care they clearly feel for each other is apparent to all who come to know them. It's not a permanent arrangement, Dima is an old cat, but at least for a while... they save each other.
there’s been a wedding prompt in my inbox for months now and I’ve been slowly losing my mind over it. I’ll get there it’s gonna be cute but I need to remind myself weddings are SUPPOSED to be cute and cheesy and it’s okay to be sappy sometimes without getting embarrassed. I literally have gotten married it was sappy and cheesy and cute. I need to channel that without getting flustered (//∇//) anyway just know if u send in a prompt and I don’t reply… it’s still in there I haven’t forgotten abt u. I’ll get there eventually…
Hehe, glad you asked! Varvara is my babygirl I love her deeply. I will put more info about her in the read more :3
She’s 26, from a mid-sized town but moved to the Capital to pursue her dream of investigative journalism. To protect herself, she has an alternative identity that she works under: Gavril, and Gavril presents as male. This kind of confuses her gender issues eventually but she has a job to do so she doesn’t have time to worry about that right now.
She suspects that Thanatica is conducting less than savoury/legal research and while sniffing around, she catches their chief Daniil Dankovsky sneaking off toward the train station. So she tails him, looking for the big story that will make her career. This is how she ends up in the Town.
She’s realised long ago that presenting as different genders allows her to collect information in myriad different ways, and she knows how best to utilise that. She can be very manipulative if she needs to be to get information, so once people know her true colours they find her hard to trust. She has few confidants; usually people who are very open and/or have little to hide. In the Town, she gets along well with Yulia and surprisingly the Stamatins. She’s fond of Lara but Lara is wary of her.
She’s kind of obsessed with Katerina, worships the ground she walks on and is one of her biggest advocates. It’s definitely in a bisexual way. She keeps trying to make Alexander look incompetent out of petty jealousy of his wife, though she does respect how much he cares for her and doesn’t outright damage his reputation for Katerina’s sake. Though she could. She definitely could.
She, as Varya, attempts to get close to Daniil through flirting tactics to get information/dirt, but he rebuffs her and makes it clear he finds her a nuisance. But as Ganya? Daniil is much more receptive, and wants him close at hand to assist him through the outbreak as a competent person. Varya thinks he must be a misogynist. Daniil worries that he might like men. Both of them need to be focusing on the damn plague.
I absolutely need to lock in and finish chapter 8 of the vampire Dankovsky fic because it’s the finale of act one and if I don’t manage it before pathologic 3 launches it’s OVER you will not hear from me again I will be so absorbed in misery with that doctor nothing else will matter
Same anon! That danko doodle is so cutesy dawww!! As well as that’s understandable! Get it completely. Was mainly asking since if you did I’d love to comiss you to draw danko with my sona and I wouldn’t wanna request that sorta thing for free so instead I’ll request you have a nice day!
Waaaaahhh I’d still love to hear abt ur sona and their personality and what kind of relationship they share with our beloved Danechka!!
Bonus if u can send reference pics >:3 just bc I wanna see!!! Everyone send me ur pathologic sonas and OCs 🤲 gimme I wanna hear all abt them im greedy for knowledge
I’m obsessed with that Daniil you drew! Curious if you’d ever take commissions cause your art style is so cute!
Thank you!!! I haven’t drawn in 3 entire years and am highly unskilled so would likely never do commissions unless that changes, but if u have a request feel free to shoot it over! I may never get to it but there’s a small chance :’) you never know!!
“I’m really not sure this will help,” you protest weakly, shifting awkwardly in whatever way you are able with three out of four limbs affixed rather firmly to the corners of the bedframe, and the fourth following suit in the capable hands of Bachelor Daniil Dankovsky.
He raises a well-groomed, slightly bushy eyebrow at that. “You want to stop?” he asks without pausing his work, anticipating your answer already and pulling the final knot tight around your ankle, earning a resigned whine from your lips as he plucks the rope to test the tension.
He’s right, of course. You don’t. It’s been three weeks since the last time he touched you; much too busy with work to focus on satisfying your needs. You don’t mind being patient, however, for when he gives you attention, he gives more than you could ask for, undivided and thorough. There’s only one issue.
You squirm. Once you get lost in the pleasure he so readily provides, you can’t help but writhe, buck, twist and kick. It’s mostly manageable, except for when…
Your hips lift as high as they can off the mattress, your limbs struggling against their restraints as Daniil gives an experimental flick of the tongue to your aching clit, chuckling to himself at the reaction.
“You’ll see that this was a good idea when I can finally pleasure you without fear of your thighs wrapping around my head so tightly I lose the ability to breathe,” he quips, pressing small kisses to the tender flesh of your inner thigh and eliciting soft sighs despite the indignation rising in your chest at his smart comments. He knows you can’t help it! It’s not like you made him pass out on purpose the one time it happened, yet he still won’t let you forget it.
You take a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to ground yourself. You want this; the dampness between your legs is evidence enough of your eagerness. The restraints however are new and strange, and you’re unsure if you’ll be able to enjoy this properly without freedom of movement. You don’t get much time to think about it though before he’s back on you after grazing your thigh with his teeth, causing an anticipative shudder.
He starts slow, as he always does. He loves dragging this out, building you up and up and up at an agonising pace until the shouts of passion coming from your diaphragm leave you hoarse for days. He drags his tongue deliberately up the length of you, dipping inside before lapping at your sensitive head, going from there to your thighs and back again in the same routine he always uses. Habitual, steady, reliable, and frankly, overwhelming.
Your breaths come out short, sharp, frantic; your moans closer to harsh gasps and hisses at the direct contact overpowering your senses. By now you’d already be writhing if you could, your legs tensed around Daniil’s neck, hiding you away from the full force of his focused attention. There is no hiding now however, your limbs flexing and tensing against the rope tied around each of them, tugging and twisting to no avail. You are entirely at his mercy, something he is not well known for possessing.
You are almost about to cry for him to stop, nearing your limit as your back arches and shakes against the mattress, before he wraps his lips around your sensitive nub and gives an attentive suck. Something shifts into place then, going past overstimulation into a new and irresistible sensation.
Your hissing and ah-ing suddenly morphs into an open-mouthed “Oh,” a moan low and guttural and wanting. The sound is so unexpected that Daniil’s head snaps up to stare at you, his eyes wide, pupils dilated, mouth hanging open and glistening. You’ve never made a noise like that before.
“Do that again,” you whimper, your lips parted and panting, your hips rocking in desperation from the abrupt lack of touch, at least as much as they can with your legs forced apart.
This changes something in Daniil. Ordinarily so controlled, meticulous, measured, even in matters of desire— hearing your dam break and spill over into a new kind of gratification sends him into a frenzy, his tousled hair and hungry expression leaving him looking like a madman. He wastes no time, obeying your request diligently and suckling at your clit as if his life depends on it, unraveling right there between your legs, his own groans sending vibrations through your heat and heightening your arousal even further.
He reaches up and under you, gripping at the taut muscles of your lower back and the edges of your twitching hips, pulling you toward himself, sinking his face as deep as he can into you, your open-mouthed frantic cries encouraging him to go further and coax even more wonderful sounds from your depths with his fervent lapping. Soon enough, he slides in a finger, or perhaps two, working you beneath his busy tongue, gliding in and out and curling upward in an eager and irregular movement that has you throwing your head back and exposing your neck to the room’s chilled air, already peppered with light bruises beginning to bloom from your earlier warm-up.
With Daniil’s fervent and enthusiastic pace, worshipping you as if a religious fanatic and chasing your release as though it were his salvation, it doesn’t take long for your walls to clench tightly and spasm around his fingers, your arms and legs pulling so intently on the restraints that you’re surprised they don’t snap under the intensity of your orgasm. You can barely hear the creaking of the bed frame over your lustful cries, unable to stifle the sounds with your hand, and Daniil isn’t far behind you in volume, gasping and grunting with effort and messily grinding his own arousal through his trousers into the mattress below the best he is able, too preoccupied using his hands on you to bother with reliving himself.
When he’s positive he’s drunk every drop of you that he can muster, he finally raises his head from between your thighs and the look on his face is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Ordinarily he’d be wearing a knowing, self-satisfied smirk and he would go about his business as if nothing were amiss. Now however, his expression can only be described as awe mixed with undeniable lust and longing, his face burning beet red up to his ears as if he has never desired you more than he does in this moment, and you think that may be the case. His hair sticks to the sheen of sweat on his forehead and he flexes his jaw, no doubt tired from devouring you and yet there is no doubt in your mind that he is still eager for more.
In the back of your mind you worry about his favourite cravat, noticing how you’ve managed to leak onto it with your legs spread open as they are. If it lightens the fabric, you won’t hear the end of it later when his exhilaration fades and his fussiness returns in full force. For now, though, you selfishly decide to keep silent. You can buy him another if it means you get to enjoy this for even a second longer.
He rubs gentle circles into your thigh, massaging the area where he had nipped at you with his straight teeth. “I hope you enjoyed your freedom while it lasted. I think I rather prefer you like this,” he admits in a low tone, greedy eyes taking in the sight of you stretched out and spent beneath him, on full display. It makes your skin flush more than it already had, though truthfully, you enjoy seeing him wanting you so badly, a rare sight on a man unused to wearing his heart on his sleeve.
You’d never admit it in an attempt to save yourself from his ego, but he was right. This was a good idea.
