#Peter Stamatin x reader

[shmowder]

Well, hello there! I have a request. How would patho characters react to the random dance invitation from their significant one? Who will join them immediately and who will be dying inside with shame?

That's a fun request, like casually getting up, putting on some music and wordlessly extending your hand to them. Maybe a romantic slow dance, or a fun energetic dance as you pull them around.

Here's the most to least willing.

[Romance, Several characters]

1. Eva

There isn't a single person on this planet who's more willing to follow you to the end of the Earth than a deeply infatuated Eva. She wants to dance with you all the time. To kiss you until you both drown.

When has Eva ever refused you a whim or a craving? When has she ever denied your affection? Be it hugs, twirls, or even your extended hand. Inviting her to join you in this declaration of love out of the blue.

Overjoyed, her enthusiasm is infectious as she accepts your offer in a heartbeat. Standing on her toes and letting you spin her around. Falling into your arms and humming alongside the melody in the air.

-

2. Vlad Jr.

Is love hereditary? The urge to put your partner on a pedestal and appease their every wish seems to run deep in the Olgimskys' genetics. For the average person, getting a favour out of Vlad Jr. is more akin to pulling teeth, and yet all the stubbornness fizzles into thin air once his beloved comes into the equation.

He's just curious and indulging you, is what he says. He definitely doesn't melt the second your fingers brush against his hand. He doesn't forget the concept of embarrassment once your lips curl into a smile as you whisper his name, urge him to leave the chair and stand on his feet.

He imagines putting his hand on your waist, a crystal clear picture before he follows through with the act. He imagines yours on his shoulder. He's even already predicted the pain from that one misstep you'd have over his foot. Yet he still does it all the same, follows through like it's his lifelong dream that he suddenly remembered he must achieve.

-

3. Bad Grief

If shame was ever worth a dime to him, your dearest wouldn't have become a criminal to begin with. That ship sailed long ago. Neither does he attempt much to keep his tough guy act going.

Sure, your request would harm his street credit and make him appear as more of a softie, so what? He can just raise it again after. Put people back in their place. This warehouse isn't a sand castle threatening to topple over at the slightest display of fragile masculinity. His people are loyal to a fault.

And he's sick of the same old boring routine. Look at you switching it up a little with a dance or two! although, a little cliché, don't you think? Not that he's complaining, if anything, he's the one pulling you back into even more dancing until your legs grow sore.

-

4. Artemy

It takes little effort besides the suggestion itself to convince him, maybe bat your eyelashes a little, hug his arm, and he's completely yours for the time being.

He used to watch the herb brides dance as a kid. He had his fair share of drunk soldiers stumbling around and dragging the "surgeon who saved their life" into a clumsy rowdy dance. Artemy's body is the most comfortable swaying around, deliberate controlled steps, large hands holding you close and preventing you from stumbling to the ground.

Definitely improvises, weirdly good at it. Has no problem following your leads if you ever take control of the dance. The atmosphere is light-hearted. He hasn't done something simply, just fun in a long time. The dance ends in laughter as sticky marches upstairs to ask what's all this ruckus is about. Some people are actually trying to sleep in this house, you know.

-

5. Lara

She reluctantly agrees after you plead your case for a while. A sigh leaving her lips as she gets up to join you. She's rigid at first, unsure movement and distant eyes. Clearly, her mind is preoccupied with a different matter, putting up very little resistance as you move her around.

So much weights on her mind, it's hard to forgo all her worries and simply be in the moment with you. Feel her heartbeat drumming along to the music, your touch on the nape of her neck, the warmth of your body so close by.

Eventually, she gives in. Walls melting as she regains her strength with a deep breath, putting her foot down and dancing to her own rhythm rather than simply making you trudge her limbless body around. She moves with fervour and passion, repressed emotions resurfacing, it's you who struggles to keep up with her. By the end, you're both breathless laying on the ground.

-

6. Daniil

He's too busy, he doesn't have the time. Why don't you just go to a club if you want to dance so bad? Not to mention, you're in public right now. He would like to maintain his dignity and not have the people talking about the mad doctor who lost his mind and started dancing in the streets just yet.

But if you're going to be persistent, fine. He'll do it, only to make you happy. He isn't exactly in the mood, but sure, once the two of you are back at the comfortable privacy of your home, then he'd gladly play the gentleman role as much as you want.

Daniil enjoys it more than he lets in, having someone who looks forward to dancing with him, specifically him. Even if it conflicts with his schedule, he'll make the time for you.

-

7. Stakh

He hasn't danced in...very long. Probably since he was a kid. Once his limb grew too tall, height too awkward, body too large for someone to properly hold.

The refusal comes out of his mouth before he has time to think about it, shaking his head and denying your earnest request. A guilty look in his eyes as your shoulders deflate.

It feels wrong, gnaws at his throat, he doesn't want to stand up. It doesn't feel appropriate yet, to celebrate, not when it's barely been a year since...he passed away. A part of him wants it, to take you in his arms and twirl you around, to smile with shakey lips as he attempts his best to recall the steps, to be a good dance partner for you, a good partner in general worthy of your heart. But he feels frozen in place, sitting on the wooden chair, back slightly hunched as he watches you move, still brimming with life.

-

8. Yulia

It's not that she doesn't want to. It's more of her leg not allowing her to. Making it greatly difficult for her to move around so freely. On some days things are fine and she's able to walk around the street she carved, on other days...not so much. Even the pain of her body weight pressuring down her leg as she stands is far too much to endure.

A cane might have made it easier, but she doesn't want one, nor does she care to explain why. She's more than content to sit down, nurse her drink, and watch you waltz around.

True to her word, she does pay attention. Clear eyes following your every move, her finger tapping against the table with the rhythm of the music. Maybe with enough liquid courage, she might stand up and join you for a few seconds. Although you'd have to be the one to sit her back down before she strains her ankle for more than she can endure in a moment of spite against the world.

-

9. Andrey

Just because he spends 90% of his day in a bar doesn't mean he's down to dancing. He watches others dance, not the other way around. The observer, never the entertainer.

Is what he claims, but in reality he doesn't mind dancing as long as he's in the mood. Make him think it's his idea, Andrey always chases after his desires, it's not that hard to make him desire having your bodies pressed together and moving to the beat of music in the air.

You'll have to be clever, plan ahead, and build up to the dance invitation. Getting Andrey to agree to something isn't that different from attempting to appease a greek god into granting you his favour.

-

10. Peter

It would take nothing short of a miracle to get the man to depart from his beloved corner to sulk in and actually use his god-given tissue connectors to frail his limbs around.

Peter doesn't like moving much—wait no, let me rephrase. Peter doesn't like moving much when it's not on his own terms and mood. His habit of swaying around in place only extends so far, attempt to reach for him, and he'll recoil away with a bothered expression.

He doesn't like changing his schedule for someone else, and most of all, he doesn't like getting bored. Most of his own ideas do not interest him for more than a passing second, and he's the innovative genius architect of the decade—if not century. What hope do you have with your average imagination? Even in love, he tends to be self-centered. Wanting things to go his way. For you to pay attention to him and his interests, rarely indulging yours. Why dance? Aren't we all just dancing clowns in the circus of life? Isn't society already a big masquerade? All music sounds the same, you're not doing anything new, so why even try? He might stare at you with blank eyes, dissociating halfway through.

-

11. Maria

Sit down before you embarrass her any further. She loves you, but this isn't the time nor the place for your impulsive shenanigans.

Spend enough time around the utopian bunch, and you, too, will quickly develop immunity to these eccentric types and their silly requests. Your display doesn't impress her. She's not letting her morning tea go cold just because you felt like taking her for a spin.

There is etiquette to these things, considerations. And your behaviour will reflect on her as well, she didn't marry so she could babysit, have some self control and wait your turn between all the other people and responsibilities demanding her attention.

[manekinoodle]

The Worst (TM) Pathologic Ship

A preamble is probably necessary here. This is written in good fun and is not meant to offend. Imagine me cackling obnoxiously while you’re reading. It’ll set the right mood.

TLDR: Andrey/Mark conceivably works as a ship.

How was this idea even born?

Y’know when you say something funny and then a friend says something funny and it keeps building up? That���s what happened. If you remember my little comic about Andrey teaching Grace to shoot, the dummy was in Mark Immortell’s likeness. The following conversation happened with regards to that:

>Peter was just trying to save Andrey from getting even more on Mark’s shitlist

>mark “oh please, if you want to use my likeness for target practice, just hit me up”

>Sounds like a date

>i mean you can’t shoot mark right

>OH NO

>Andrey/mark

At this point the gears started turning. My first thoughts were “haha cursed” as they are about a lot of things, and then I decided to hit up Wattpad for some terrible x reader fanfiction to help me write a Mark Immortell x reader fic.  I didn’t hit up Wattpad because I’m currently at home with my parents who dictate me a nice early bedtime. I slept on it for a bit.

The next morning, I screamed (internally) because somehow the Mark x reader idea I had slept on became a strong urge to write/draw Mark/Andrey. Ironically, of course. That’s my brand. Heh.

I chewed on the idea until it wasn’t so ironic anymore.

Actual stuff under the cut.

Ok, but why?

Look, this isn’t gonna be full of evidence or whatever since these two don’t interact, but this is a joke post anyway, so why do you care? I’m half-kidding, please keep reading. I used the wiki as a loose reference.

An important note is that I’m mostly taking my points from Pathologic 2 characterisations here, especially with regards to meta.

The Players

Let’s take a look at each character separately first. I’ll bring up important canon personality traits and personal interpretations which will play into the relationship dynamic.

Mark Immortell

The most relevant part of Mark’s character for this is his relationship with control. His relationship with it is straightforward in both the play and the meta. After all, he is one of the few impervious to the plague in the story and as the showrunner in meta. In between games, he wrests control of the metanarrative too, so there’s another point for him. I like how he seems to enjoy exercising his power too! He’s a Utopian through and through; he breaks the limits of the play and exercises control beyond what he should be able to as a showrunner in the game. In short, nothing gets on top of Mark Immortell. Figuratively. I think his back might say otherwise.

Andrey Stamatin

I have a lot more to say about Andrey! We’ll start with what lies on the surface, though we’ll get to the good stuff later. Andrey is the red oni to Peter’s blue; he’s the more outwardly aggressive and impulsive of the twins. In canon, Andrey’s character is about breaking the limits set in front of him. We see him do this quite effectively with the construction of the Polyhedron, but what happens when there’s a limit that can’t be broken placed in front of him? We never see this in either game. While both twins drown themselves in something or other that stops them reaching their full creative potential (at least when we see them), no limits are placed in a way where they’re seen actively having to tackle them.

We can get an idea of how an unbreakable limit might present itself to Andrey by taking a look at his relationship with Peter. There’s a lot that can be said, but I will focus on the aspect of control. Andrey fashions himself as Peter’s caretaker, taking control of the latter in a sense. This isn’t a bad thing, considering Peter can barely look after himself properly. On the other hand, Andrey allows himself to be dragged around by Peter’s creative visions. He’s the driving force that brings those ideas to life, sure, but ultimately his strings are being pulled by someone else. From this I think that Andrey is receptive to being controlled in a relationship. Being presented with an unbreakable limit can conceivably end up with him being pliant.

Let me make a slight detour by giving you a couple of personal thoughts on Andrey. Feel free to disagree on this since it’s all interpretation based on gut feeling. A good first impression to Andrey Stamatin would be having your figurative fangs out. A seemingly pure existence without hidden fangs is something that cannot exist to him (an exception can be made for Eva, since she’s so out there that it’s 100% not an act). I don’t believe he places sole value on honesty, per se (think Grief and how soft he actually is), but it plays a large part in his perception of someone. Basically, put your worst foot forward. Andrey is down for that.

How would this work, exactly?

On one hand, we have the meta-dealing Chris McLean himself, and on the other, Mr Andrey “I break all the rules” Stamatin. Let’s try and tell a short story, and I’ll bring up the points I made above when appropriate.

SCENE 1

Every romance must start with a meet cute. Refer to the comic I mentioned at the beginning. PETER has tackled ANDREY to the ground. GRACE is holding a fake gun. There is a training dummy with the likeness of MARK IMMORTELL.

Enter MARK. He calmly walks past the scene and examines the dummy. Impressed, he turns to ANDREY, who has since stood up.

MARK IMMORTELL:         Quite an impressive dummy you’ve made, Andrey.

MARK snickers. The focus is on ANDREY and MARK as PETER and GRACE slowly back away. They expect a fight. Just let them leave, they don’t do anything. PETER and GRACE decide to get some ice-cream off-stage, or maybe paint at home. Anywhere that isn’t here.

MARK IMMORTELL:         If you really wanted to use my likeness as target practice, you could have hit me up.

This was his attempt to provoke. I read this as Mark acknowledging his invulnerability, but this could also be read as an amorous proposal. ANDREY takes the bait and tries to intimidate this tiny little theatre man. He makes to kick MARK in the shin, but Mark’s valise finds itself under his chin before he can do so. ANDREY stalls. MARK looks satisfied with his reaction. He won’t be satisfied for long.

MARK IMMORTELL:         I hope you don’t mind me taking this. I’ll use it in my next show. Do come to see it, won’t you, Andrey?

He leans in towards the other. ANDREY tries to verbally protest, but he finds he cannot speak.

MARK IMMORTELL:         It would be quite a shame if you didn’t.

MARK calls a tragedian to pick the dummy up. As quickly as he entered the stage, he leaves with the tragedian. ANDREY’s gaze follows him, confused. Fade to black.

SCENE 2

The Theatre at night. Enter ANDREY, somewhat nervous. Well, he is nervous but doesn’t act like it. He’s hoping nobody asks him what he’s doing here. BACHELOR and HARUSPEX are chatting in a corner, noticing but not acknowledging Andrey’s presence. CHANGELING is on the second floor, looking down at the scene. ANDREY doesn’t notice her. She snickers into the camera.

Lights are cast on the stage and a pantomime plays out, featuring Andrey’s dummy. ANDREY watches, spellbound. I don’t have an idea of what the pantomime would be, so use your own imagination. After the show ends, only ANDREY is left in the Theatre. The three healers have left in the meantime. They knew what was going to happen. ANDREY, as if possessed, approaches the stage. MARK enters the stage from stage left and they stop in front of each other. MARK looks down at ANDREY almost derisively, but to his surprise, ANDREY just stares back. Beat.

MARK IMMORTELL:         I didn’t expect to see you here today, little shark pup.

Pet name? It’s Mark being a meanie! Andrey is eating this up, however, because overt control is something he can accept. Mark just established dominance over him in Scene 1 and he’s okay with not fighting back… If this was longer, I would have had him try to push a bit more, but we don’t got time for that. Back to the actual play.

ANDREY tries to say something, but it comes out as an unintelligible mumble. MARK lifts his chin up with the end of his valise so ANDREY is properly looking at him.

MARK IMMORTELL:         Did you say something?

ANDREY expects to be unable to speak again. He hesitantly opens his mouth.

ANDREY:                            (his voice cracks slightly) You… asked me to come, didn’t you?

MARK is taken aback (not visibly) by this honest admission. He (and probably you) expected Andrey to put up a small fight at least. However, this little puppet does not mind his strings being pulled. Mark decides to try and push a little harder.

MARK teleports ANDREY up on stage. ANDREY stumbles a little, but Mark’s valise still being under his chin steadies him. MARK pulls the valise so Andrey’s face is quite close to his again. I don’t know what to do from here, so fade to black.

The way I imagined the dynamic going is Mark teasing Andrey and trying to provoke him. Andrey does get pissy sometimes, but it’s extremely cute and low stakes, like teasing a pet. Then, at some point Andrey doesn’t get provoked which would throw Mark off guard. It’s a moment where two characters are going at each other and suddenly stop, allowing the weight of the moment to sink in. It’s in almost every romance story, but I can’t exactly put a name to it. Have enough of that, and we’ve got a nice rom-com on our hands.

Of course, this is just a theory. A Game Theory…

[shmowder]

Sometimes, I think about how cuddling Peter Stamatin would feel like, his arms wrapped around you so tight, trembling fingers tracing shapes at the small of your back; evidence of someone who hasn't felt the touch of tenderness in so long.

Peter's eyes are tightly shut, as if he refuses to wake up from this moment. Face buried into your chest, as if you were his personal tomb, you'd think he was welcoming a soothing grave, one he couldn't wait to visit early enough.

He smells of herbal twyrine and chemical paints, of the earth and artificial replicas, that, you can't deny.

His usual oversized jacket discarded on the floor, just out of view. Merely in his white undershirt, there is nothing to make him appear larger than life. The genius architect has never looked so small.

You run your fingers through his hair, soft, greasy, and neglected.

The movement of his fingers halt, this sensation is foreign to him. You twirl the strands between your fingers, scratch behind his ear, massage near the temple, and caress the top. His tense shoulders slowly melt into your touch, the more you keep going, the more you proved that this isn't a dying man's mirage to foolishly chase behind.

Peter's fingers are cold, so are his toes, and the tip of his nose. Greedly leeching off of your warmth, he slips his hands under your top, tangles his legs with yours, and presses his nose into the dip between your shoulder and neck.

Despite the stark coldness against your bare skin, you don't pull away. While he doesn't thank you verbally, Peter's eyes flutter open for a moment, stealing a glance of you, savouring this view of you to memory, etching it into his brain eternally. For a moment was all it took before his eyes closed again, back into the safety of his mind.

Gradually, his heartbeat slows down—even at rest, it's noticeably fast—yours following after. You hold him through the night, and he holds you back with the desperation of a drowning man. Prying his fingers away is a concern for the morning sun and its blue skies, for underneath the veiled stars, you overindulge his need, and he reveres what he named as your benevolence, for it's all that he's ever known when it comes to saying thanks.

[shmowder]

It was such a treat to read your Yulia hcs!! Earlier you'd made a post wondering what your writing feels like to others. Sometimes I'd liken it to bubble gum - like a big gumball I just want to bite into and chew for a long time (don't worry, it's a magical gumball that doesn't lose its flavor).

The Yulia hcs were like a pastry with powdered sugar and cream (no doubt this is influenced by you mentioning the pastry at the beginning) - something delicate. Like snow falling in a snow globe and like a warm hug at the same time. Lovely ♡ I appreciate that you always take care to mention her leg as well.

I love both kinds of food!!!!! Thank you for taking the time to write my requests :) <3

-

Ooh, ships! I haven't ventured very far into any Patho ships tbh! I know the big one is Daniil x Artemy ofc. I'm really hoping that the Marble Nest and P1 will help me connect with Daniil more. And I do enjoy Artemy x Aglaya.

What I meant was more along the lines of what personality traits in a reader would make them a good match for those characters? Uhh I cannot phrase this to save my life. In your Victor x reader fluff, you said that a stubborn confident reader would do well with him, so something like that!

But you basically answered my question anyway ^^ "Someone who can stand her enough to live together" for Yulia lmfao. Your description of Peter and Yulia is killing me. This too is #girlrotting.

I'm interested to see how Yulia x Eva plays out in P1 or if it's just mentioned in passing. Somebody on reddit described Eva as "a dreamer without a dream" - I barely know her but that seems to match up with what you're saying and I LOVE that phrase.

I see both of your Bad Grief visions and I've actually seen some vaguely shippy Victor x Grief art before.

I'm not too invested in any ships. If you want to know something terrible... I've briefly entertained the idea of Big Vlad x Artemy........ if he didn't always call Artemy "my boy" and if other characters weren't frequently accusing Artemy of being like, owned by him or whatever, then I wouldn't be like this..... it's the guard dog trope. Obviously this would have to be in an alternate universe where Artemy's dialogue choices didn't strongly imply he's not on board 😆 Well, there's my cursed opinion of the day.

🐿️ anon

Oh! I'm sorry, i must have misunderstood your request then.

Here is what I think the "ideal" Reader for each character would be:

Katerina Saburova

Someone who would never lose faith in her no matter how dire her state becomes. To see her value hidden beneath the role she failed to play, the responsibility she failed to fullfill and the Misteress she couldn't amount to.

To understand her pain, take it from her shoulder and carry it before her collarbones crack. Wipe her tears and tell her it will be okay, allow her the small relief of medicine and never judge her because her cruel harsh mind already does that.

She knows she is a mess, she knows her addiction to morphine is wrong. Moments of lucidity sneak up on her from time to time, the guilt suffocating and the shame like razors dragging down her throat.

She is aware of what the town people whisper behind her back, of her ruined reputation. Don't become one of them too, please, more than anything she needs a friend right now.

Someone to love her unconditionally, but also someone to take the difficult steps her in stead. To hold her and comfort her as withdrawal set her nerves on fire and her nails dig into her skin.

To make her forget about this damned town or her barren womb, grant her a moment of genuine peace, a facade of normalcy. Take her outside, let her remember the smell of fresh air, pluck stray dandelions to gently tuck between her hairstrands, keep her warm in your arms as the chilly autumn winds breeze by.

Remind her how life was before all of this madness, who she was. Katerina can't even recall her own hobbies or interests, she is lost and only she can save herself.

So at least be there for her, show her that there is more to life. Be gentle, never cruel. Be patient and never judgmental. Be loving and never afraid.

-

Yulia Lyuricheva

As pathetic as it might sound, Yulia just wants one soul who will stand her enough to spend time together, to live in the same house and share bread and a bed.

She is often quiet around other people, she learned to be. She had to. Being too much was her curse for this lifetime, apparently. Ever since she was young, she quickly understood how saying the wrong things would tremble down the fragile foundation every relationship is built on.

Yulia likes most people, believe it or not. How can she not when everyone is so interesting and unique? Every single person is the accumulative of all the choices and paths they picked during their lifetime. A coin toss of fate during every decision, red strings weaving into a whole person, scouplting their personality out of clay from their history and experiences.

Most humans are interesting and rather adorable. She enjoys observing them, making notes, and connecting the dots. Appreciating the work of art, mathematics' creation.

Each of them like naive children in a playground, pretending to know what they're doing as they wear their adult clothes and go to their adult jobs. Pretending there is some inherent meaning in it all, as if life isn't one big joke, and a rather tactless one at that.

Yulia couldn't fool herself like them. She couldn't play make-believe. She ran by facts and hard evidence, numbers never lied and the grim reality was that humanity's whole existence is just one big coincidence. A blep in the universe, a speck of dust amidst the galaxies and stars.

People didn't like being reminded of those facts, that every birthday is simply one inch deeper into the grave.

Damn her cursed tongue and restless mind.

Therefore she watered herself down, remained content with being an observer. Never causing harm or annoying others, mild mannered and keeping to herself. Isolating, suffocating, forced to be the only victim subjected to the dark corners of her mind.

When the abyss started to whisper to her back, Yulia turned to smoking.

She wants someone who would want her, all of her. The good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. Someone to admire her brilliant mind while remaining strong in the face of her occasion episodes of apathy. Someone who will understand or at least sympathise why she hasn't cleaned her room in weeks, why old coffee mugs are rotting on the table, why she barely opens the windows in her home.

Why she simply cannot bother to exist on some days, dissociating as she blankly stares out the window, or at a wall or an equation drawn on the chalk board.

Why the clocks in her residence require frequent repairs, courtesy to being smashed against the wall in a swift motion when their ticking starts making her ears bleed.

Could someone even stand her when she cannot stand her own self on most days? Could someone love her as she is? Or is she really irredeemable, cursed since birth.

She may seem smart, but she is prone to rather stupid impulsive decisions from time to time. Indulging life risking experiments out of curiosity because she might as well go down in her own style rather than wait for time ungratefully reap her soul.

Someone who will get her out of bed on the days where the idea of chewing food seems too exhausting.

Yulia doesn't want someone who will gift her meaning and a purpose on a silver plate, rather she'd like for you to kindly hold the candle and shine the light so she may find her way herself. It's been years, and she's gotten used to living in the dark.

Be sympathetic but not overindulgent. Be forgiving and not vindictive. Be her shoulder to lean on but still let her walk on her own two legs. Steady her steps but do not lead her or attempt to diverge her path.

Peter Stamatin

He might make it seem like he needs a muse, that a shiny new thing is what will get him out of this rut.

But it won't, all the nymphs of the forest will look dull after one night, all the gems will lose its shine after one touch.

What he needs, is to wake up.

To stop mourning things immediately after their birth, to not borrow grief from tomorrow and keep reliving it each day.

What he needs is the mundane, the human animal basic requirements. To remember he is a mammal deep down, he isn't a concept nor an abstract collection of ideas, he isn't a ghost watching people pass by, he is flesh and blood.

Someone who will bring him back down from his journey up in the clouds, who will steal him back from the stars, from all the gaint things bigger than life itself that he got accustomed to befriending and haveing one sided conversations with.

He cuts his own thoughts before he finishes them because he lost interest, he stops mid sentences because he grew bored of the words coming out of his own mouth.

He will complain and throw tantrums, but you must prevail his trails and stand your ground. He will dramatise things and get mad, he will cry and break down, he will act as if you're plucking his heart out of his chest and crushing it in your hand.

You must prevail.

Remind him that he will survive. Sure, he can get mad, but he must stay alive. Peter needs an intervention, someone brave enough to risk upsetting the crowned prince of humanity's best of the best and tell him it's bedtime.

To drag him away from the blank canvas he has been staring at for hours, to hold him accountable for skipping meals or rotting in bed for weeks without going outside.

Someone to reteach him the basic maintenances task of being alive, the ones he neglected and gradually forgot as he couldn't bother to remember he too own a human body that requires care. That his brain is an organ that requires fuel and breaks as much as it is visions-plagued maze.

Take him with you to bathe, gently lather shampoo in his hair as he stiffly sits in the lukewarm water while watching the yellow rubber duck float by. Guide his fingers when it comes time to apply conditioner and let him remember how the texture of his own hair feels like, watch him rediscover how nice it is to let water wash his worries away.

Peter needs the simple pleasures in life, his soul requires a soft served ice cream cone, a cheap candy from a corner store, a hummed melody you made up while hanging your clothes to dry.

The mundane, the ugly, the eggs with burnt edges. Food that is merely food and nothing else, drinks that are simply drinks rather than magical twyrine mixtures that let him hear whispers he will never be able to decipher or understand.

Be firm but never controlling. Be a teacher but never condescending. Be a human, most of all, a real human being to show him that he is too.

-

Bad Grief

Grief can't decide if he wants someone to see the good in him or if that would cause more harm than good. He has a role to play and he's very good at it.

It is a necessary evil. The gangs will exist with or without him, it's better that he leads them and makes sure they never cross the line than someone else who might not be trusted.

A cause surprisingly more noble than anyone would ever expect of him. This life has fallen directly into his hands, every road led him down his path as if it was custom made for his measurements alone. It was always suspicious, how well things fell into place, how convenient fate was at times.

Does he need someone to see the good in him? peak behind the curtains and view him at his most barest forms? Not really. He is content with playing this role for eternity, a glorified shopkeeper, he can keep the jig up for many years to come.

But is it what he wants? is that what he really wants from life? to surrender to fate and simply take it laying down? He pushes these swarming thoughts away, as if they won't return at dawn.

You didn't fear him, either someone with a death wish, a brave fool or an apathetic idiot.

But he felt weird under your gaze, as if your eyes could see through him, through the facade. You never reacted to his empty threats or intimidation attempts, neither did you acknowledge the fact he is a criminal much. You weren't here to challenge him or take his throne, neither were you here for a favour or to obtain something illegal.

...you were merely here for him? To what... chat?

He did think you were a fool for a while, he won't lie. ulterior motives or not, you were walking into a den of criminals each morning just to what? Talk to him about the weather and how cold autumn is?

You weren't part of the script, clearly an unfated encounter that you deliberately went out of your way to have with him each day.

Until one day, he noticed the lack of any ticking sounds as you approched him. Your usual pocket clock seemed still in place from the chain dangling from your pocket, which could only mean one thing.

"Hand it over dollface."

And you did, as if you anticipated this request.

He fixed it for you, fingers moving by sheer muscle memory alone, a skill he thought he had long forgotten.

Bad Grief wants someone who isn't afraid to be free, who comprehends the role he has to play, who doesn't condemn things they do not understand.

Someone who isn't trying to save him or make him change from this life of crime, but also someone who is brave enough to walk by his side on the streets, to hold his hand in public, to not bend to the whims of the public's opinion.

The air is really chilly, would you like his jacket? ....don't ever call him a gentleman again, he just doesn't want you to freeze to death, that's all.

Grief would love someone who walks their own path, someone who will make the first step for him because deep down he is frozen by fear, too cautious for his own good. Too aware of what's at risk, of what could happen.

Of how much he could endanger you just by knowing your name, just by people seeing you at his side. You do realise what you're sacrificing? the opportunities which will never be presented to you just because you decided to be with someone like him? It's your funeral.

But he really is touched, that someone will see him worth all of that. Bad Grief had to ensure he remains useful to people all his life, that the townfolks need him more than they hate, that he is a necessary foundation that could never be uprooted without the entire structure collapsing.

Even the authorities know that, the Saburov understand his usefulness in keeping the criminal structure plates at bay, how he sets the rules and decides where to draw the line. A mutual beneficial relationship built of begrudging respect and fear.

He needs you to understand that he must. He digged his own grave, he was lead here on a leash by life. It was this or death. Don't look at him with distant, don't let fear cloud your judgements.

Be brave, never afraid. Be direct and always sincere. Be smart and clever but never cautious or cowardly. Be moral but never vendective.

-

Most important of all, the ideal reader would be different to each character based on what they value most. Someone like Aglaya values personal freedom above all and would fall for an independent Reader with their own convictions rather than blindly follow the herd. Someone authentic and brave.

While someone like Alexander Saburov would rather be that person for the reader. Preferring that you're more dependent on him and believe in his notions and principles, having faith in his justice and righteousness. To rely on him to tell you what's right and what's wrong. It's important to only indulge within limit and never stray too far from the path of what's wrong and right.

On the other extreme, Andrey also values freedom but it is his own freedom he cares most about. Your freedom shouldn't challenge his too much nor ask him to change his ways, if you love him then you must love him for who he is because he doesn't plan on changing for anyone. Morals are treated as another cage that suppresses his freedom rather than human decency.

-

My own writing tastes like a gumball to you- I know you meant it as a good thing but ouch. Does my writing really seem childish and overwhelmingly sugary? Ah-

It's not a bad thing, it's just not what I was aiming for either. At least you seem to enjoy it so yeah. I hoped my style would seem more... poetic to you? Sincere?

I'm grateful regardless. I liked the pastry comparison in Yulia's story, however. It fits the vibe I was aiming for.

I hope your day is amazing, do please take care of yourself.

[shmowder]

Yeah, divorces are cool and funny, but how about the actual weddings? It seems to me that the wedding of any Utopian would be the return of Sodom to Earth, of varying severity. Andrey is a professional toastmaster for sure!

Oh god Andrey's wedding. He's reinventing the seven deadly sins and adding a couple more, custom made by yours truly.

Words can never do it justice. If that man pops crystals on a regular Tuesday, I dread knowing what is considered sufficient for a once in a lifetime event like a wedding.

Andrey's bachelor party brings the flood back to wipe earth before the actual wedding happens. Of course you're invited, he's not going to slut it out there alone without you? It's his wedding and he will cherry pick which customs to follow and ignore.

The Utopians as a whole really know how to party- A wedding for one of them is just a chance for each of them to outshine one another. Everything is a competition to be THE main character in the room, especially another person's wedding.

Now the honeymoon? They are 100% taking you away from this dusty old town to a different more exciting place, if not a different country to begin with. Places which will put the Capital to shame.

One month, two or even 5 if the mood strikes them. They have no obligations and they're enjoying this love paradise with you. Whenever it becomes dull they'll finally decide to go back to the town.

While they all share the need to show off and have their wedding go down in history, each of their weddings is vastly different and reflects their inner personality... and biggest sin.

Starting off with pride! and none other than Maria Kaina herself. The town is her playground. The world bends down if she gives the word.

Preparations for her wedding will begin a year in advancement, and the two of you will go on many trips to the capital to get your measurements taken and have the best tailors at your beck and call. She truly plans on looking like a god on her wedding day.

Maybe even orders for a new building to be made just for her to have her wedding in. Carpeted red floors and glittering crystal chandeliers. The two of you get your portrait painted on that day, and it's hanged at the entrance of her wing in the crucible. Everyone in town is invited to marvel and gawk at her and her untouchable spouse.

Oh and if you start hearing voices in your head afterwards, do not worry it's just her "immortal" relatives saying hello before going back to their own focus.

Or on a more artistic note, an experimental wedding with Peter Stamatin. Maybe resembling envy? He plans everything by the hand and designs concepts that are so abstract and far off from reality. Instead of the cathedral, the wedding should take place in the cemetery. Only a handful of people are invited–including grace as the flower girl–it's in the dead middle of the night under a full moon. Actually scratch that, that man is so extra he'd wait for a full eclipse to have his wedding under.

The ring is the truly main event, he designed it himself. It took so long searching for a jeweler that could weild it without a single mistake. So many prototypes and failed attempts thrown in the dust. Making this become a reality cost more than the entire combined town income in a year.

Of course that jeweller is dead now, why do you ask? Anyway the ring's catch is that it can never, ever be removed. Unless the finger gets cut off, of course. it's as permanent as the bones in your body and even after you die it will remain etched onto your skeleton for eternity.

Yeah he has a matching pair, duh.

The list goes on, lust and Andrey, Greed and Vlad, Sloth and Eva.

[shmowder]

So I've been loving your other reader stuff and wanted to discuss expanding the x reader universe with some Stamatins.

I have this one idea, please consider, reader accidently seducing Peter, which causes Andrey to fall hard for reader as well (since I doubt he could ever really love someone who doesn't also love his brother.)

Specifically, I have this scene haunting me, and I'd love to see you expand upon it.

Peter and Reader are at his loft where he's doing figure drawings/painting of Reader. But instead of it being just some sexually charged thing, it's super comfortable. They're laughing and joking with each other. Peter keeps getting distracted bouncing ideas around the room. It's this genuinely sweet and tender moment.

Meanwhile, Andrey is also around watching this all go down. And he's seen muses come and go. Usually, it's pretty or interesting things that catch Peter's eye and are gone just as quickly. But this one is so very different. Genuinely engaging with Peter's ideas. Not some lovesick puppy or someone living in a fantasy. Just a person enjoying spending time with another person.

Hope that was at all coherent? Feel free to get weird. Sfw and nsfw interpretations are valid

Aword

[Fluff, Romance, referenced sexual topics/Alcohol/drugs, Falling in love, Devotion, Codependency, GN reader]

[Andrey/Reader, Peter/Reader, Polyamory]

In which Andrey Stamatin attempts to understand his younger twin's enamoration with you and how it might have started.

Only for him to helplessly fall a victim to your smile.

Andrey Stamatin can recall the exact number of times he has seen a smile on his brother's face in the past year. his fingers were more than enough to count them on; the number kept dwindling with each cycle around the sun.

The seasons would come and go, yet neither of them would blink an eye. Downing a full bottle barely burns the back of Andrey's throat anymore, the smoke rarely stings his lungs, the adrenaline flooding his brain from taking another's life scarcely lasts more than a second.

Peter's smile, however, the chime of his laughter, could feed Andrey's starved soul for centuries. Paint the greys of his world in velvet crimsons and royal blues, gold-like yellows, and sunset bright oranges.

Drugs could only go so far, after all. Various stimulants were sampled and put to the test, yet not a single one managed to match a fraction of the euphoric bliss he gets from seeing his brother gleaming with happiness.

Currently, the source of Peter's unusual fits of passion was laying in an empty bathtub, fully clothed. The same empty bathtub his brother tended to use as a makeshift bed.

Peter always had the most unusual ideas whenever he found himself in a creative rut, attempting to overcome the art block by any means necessary.

Andrey was nothing if not overly indulgent of his brother's fleeting whims.

Not to mention with the very short amount of time Andrey spent inside their shared house, Peter could just easily use his brother's untouched bed whenever the neck pain from sleeping on an oversized ceramic bowl grew too cumbersome. Or so Andrey assumed, he hasn't really checked on his supposed personal room in a long time, he can't even recall what colour the walls were painted with, let alone what type of sheets were laid upon his bed collecting dust by now.

Just how exactly did you weasel your way into Peter's life from under Andrey's nose? The older twin can't help but wonder at times.

Did the two of you meet in one of Peter's bi-monthly trips to stand in front of his beloved paper wooden daughter and simply stare? No. Andrey makes sure to accompany his brother during those trips to the polyhedron.

Maybe it was something absurdly mundane, like in a grocery store or a trip to the tailor? Unlikely, Peter's food is delivered to his front door, and he would rather set his whole wardrobe on fire than wear something touched by amateur hands when it came to sewing.

Andrey witnessed it before when their maid in the Capital sent one of his brother's favourite shirts to be repaired in some no-name tailoring store. Coming home that day to his brother sitting on the front steps of their burning house, grumbling about how the winds keep swaying the flames and messing up the shadows as he sketched the scene of the crime on the few unburnt papers he grabbed on his way out.

It doesn't matter how.

The voices of chatter fill the usually quiet room, light conversations flowing seemingly between you, the art subject, and his brother sitting on a stool nearby, the painter attempting to immortalise your beauty on a canvas.

Because no matter how this miracle happened, Andrey will do anything in his power to make sure it doesn't slip away from Peter's fingers, from his own fingers.

The sunlight phasing through the apartment's window reflected mesmerizingly against your skin, the gentle smile on your face only making you appear more radiant. Andrey's eyes could barely look away from the ethereal view amidst the mundane messy room, from the way your fingers ever so delicately traced against the rim of the bathtub, temptation tugging his heart forward by its strings.

Your air of comfort was infectious, Peter's fingers gliding against the canvas with the brush as he noted every single detail he saw, each colour documenting every feeling passing through his soul.

getting up from the comfortable armchair, Andrey walked over to the middle of the room where the main event was taking place. Resting his chin above his brother's shoulder to take a better look at the painting, the other acknowledged him with a proud look as if to show off his magnum opus.

Peter's put great details in the way the light reflected off of your eyes. The way your body was positioned looked almost an invitation for onlooker to step inside the oil painting and bury themselves into your chest and tuck their their bodies safely inside your heart for eternity.

He could almost feel your lips against his own just by looking at this piece of art.

What did they taste like? a sweet cherry ripened to perfection? A fresh minty finish from your toothpaste? A rich bitter aftertaste from your morning coffee?

Or did you prefer milk? Would his tongue taste a hint of the creamy flavour if he traced the insides of your mouth with it?

Or maybe you had more bite to your bark and a sharp iron taste would overwhelm his senses as your teeth dug into his lips while his fingers tightened around your neck enough to leave a shadow of discoloration behind.

His biggest mistake was turning his head around to face the real thing. The real view of you laying back with such a relaxed expression despite being in a room with the two most dangerous men in town was more than taunting in his eyes, it was basically a personal offence to carry such a bright smile carelessly in his presence knowing what he is capable of.

Whatever Andrey desired, Peter would overdose on until he developed an addiction. From the first sip of alcohol from a stolen bottle he shared with his brother, to the last person who warmed Andrey's bed only to end up in his brother's for the week.

Andrey would get something, and his younger twin would wordlessly copy him. Andrey would find someone, and Peter would borrow them from time to time.

A silent agreement between the two to always share, that's how it always worked.

Up until now.

Somehow, it was Peter who found you first. Somehow, you've been living under a rock away from Andrey's eyes and reach. A hidden gem that he didn't get to first, despite turning every rock and poking into every crevice in this forsaken town.

Is it jealousy that he's feeling? Is it the burning of envy's green flames suffocating his lungs? Andrey was always the man at the centre of everyone's envy. It will never be the other way around. He rejects those feelings belonging to lesser men, never someone of his status.

No. This is something different, something much deeper. He is above petty envy; he lets Eva roam freely and never looks twice at whose life Maria's ending with a kiss this week.

Or was it simply different because Peter was involved this time around?

Because this isn't mere sex, you're not a stray from a one night stand Peter's taken pity on.

Andrey's not even sure his brother even bedded you yet. The smell of sex simply wasn't in the air, and he would know since Peter never opens the windows to air the room out.

What exactly was your relationship?

The two of you joked and laughed like long-lost friends, knew just how much to push and when to pull back. It wasn't the intense passion of sinful lust burning in his brother's eyes but the budding hope of a lotus blooming after a fresh morning rain.

You've even tried to include him, to infect him with your warmth, reel him in with your innocent smile. You probably weren't even aware of how tantalising you looked with your pure friendly act.

The worst kind of sirens in Andrey's eyes were the ones who weren't aware of their temptations yet. Those ones posed a real danger to his sanity, a real threat to his addictive personality.

Pulling his body away from leaning against his brother, Andrey walked over to you, staring you down as his legs stood uncomfortably close to where your head laid, almost boxing you in.

You didn't look nervous. You weren't the slightest bit intimidated by his towering presence. As if all his muscles were for show, as if his hands, which took lives too easily, couldn't touch you if they tried.

It was suffocating, your heavy presence. The power you held despite literally laying down beneath him, staring up with wide innocent eyes. It made him want to puke his poisoned heart out. It made him want to kneel before you and seek redemption for his sins. It made him want to fall asleep in your embrace.

It made him want you beyond bodily desires, beyond sex and beyond a mere muse to burn in order to fuel his creations.

But he'd never utter those words, for there is no need to. His brother perfectly understood him from just one look, Peter practically guessed what's going on in Andrey's mind during any given moment of the day.

Yet the word for what you are hasn't been invented yet into this world, linguists didn't stumble upon it, scholars never felt it.

How lucky they are to stumble upon a glowing ember of another miracle practically begging to be added to their list of ever growing resume of achievements. A creation in the making.

They did it once with a tower, it's about time they tried it on a living breathing human being.

Andrey leans closer to gaze down upon your eyes, upon his latest invention, still a newborn in its prototype days.

For now, a muse is what you shall be called.

Until the day comes when the whole world learns a word fit enough to name you by. A word both of him and Peter will piece together letter by letter.

[shmowder]

Now that anon is back on I can say that I’ve been thinking about Peter Stamatin bathtub sex for like a month.

Hope you are well :) I still get excited to see your posts and memes on the dash! -🦢

Would he even consider it bathtub sex or just... normal sex on his eccentric choice of eepy time furniture?

I mean, I'm down. The concept is hot both ways. I just really really need an answer for this paradox

And thank you for the well wishes, I hope you're well and happy. I'm glad you enjoy seeing my memes, I really like making them.

[shmowder]

What Pathologic characters bring for your birthday Pt.2

[Note: this took...so much more effort than I ever expected, I'm unsure if I'll continue the termites and humbles part. Either way, I hope you enjoy this.]

The Utopians

Andrey Stamatin

he is used to sharing his birthday with his twin brother. As kids, most people would just hand them one present and expect them to split it. He knew better and would always concede the gift to Peter throughout the years. He's not used to attending a birthday that's not his own either. Going out of his way to indulge people was never one of his traits. And yet, he came to yours. Maybe that's a gift of its own. His gifts tend to be self-serving in one way or another, chaotic in nature, and borderline inappropriate. They usually include:

Imported fabric from the Capital, its pattern is unusual, but Andrey claims it's the current peak of high fashion in the industry. He can lend you his tailor's mailing address if you ever wish to fashion it into something wearable, or you could just drape the fabric over your naked self and walk around, Andrey will enjoy the view either way.

A Pythagorean cup he moulded himself from clay. He doesn't tell you the nature of the cup and just hands it to you with a wine bottle he grabbed on his way out of the Broken Heart pub.

A .44 calibre revolver, which is the most beautiful gun you've ever seen. The handle grip is made of brown rich wood with a smooth surface, the trigger gaurd is plated in gold, the frame is engraved with an intricate design resembling silver leaves curling around the barrel and chamber of the gun.

He let's you borrow the Broken Heart bar for a whole day for your celebration party in case you didn't want guests trashing your house. If you insist to throw the party in your own home, Andrey insists to allow him the privilege of kicking everyone out comes midnight, as long as you don't mind some bullet holes in your walls...and roof.

♧

Peter Stamatin

He tends to think of what he would like to receive when tasked with picking out a gift for someone else. He let Andrey pick which flavour the cake for their birthday was each time growing up since the adults would just cut them one slice and expect them to share it. Peter would give up the whole plate to his brother. He's accustomed to people coming to his own birthday rather than the other way around. Maybe the fact that he left his room to walk all the way to your house is a gift of its own. Peter treats the gifting process as another medium for art. His gifts may include:

One of his paintings, a newer one you haven't seen before. Despite the subject depicted being abstract in nature, there is still a resemblance to a human figure on the canvas. The more you stare at it, the more it feels like you're looking onto a mirror, as if he manages to paint the essences of your soul.

The first bottles of twyrine produced from the freshly picked herbs of this season. He much prefers the local drinks over the Capital's champagne and the pubs celler of wines. He usually goes out of his way to secure the first bottles to himself each season, but this time around, he decided to share them with you. Attempting to explain the unearthed magic that is this liquid condensation of herbs before losing interest halfway through the conversation and sipping on his glass in silence.

A tombstone he designed himself. Heavy black marble starting in the base and cut in precise spots midway through to allow for the seamlessly translation to the stained glass art which makes the top of the tomestone. The art piece itself is made from various glass pieces, different in texture and colours. A day celebrating your birth seemed like the perfect opportunity to offer a reminder of your inevitable death.

A bouquet of wilted flowers. What used to be white petals is now yellowish in colour, fragile looking as if the buds might crumble if you look at them for too long. Dried thin stems and falling leaves, flowers rotting from the inside as they fall apart on the outside.

♧

Eva Yan

She arrives late, water is dripping from her hair as she admits she fell asleep in the bath and didn't realise how much time has passed. You help her to the upper floor and lend her a towel to dry up. She asks to borrow some of the flowers from the bouquets you receive to decorate her hair with, and you oblige. Two golden braids crown her head with small flower buds framing them like pearls.

A silk handheld fan with a light blue floral design and rosewood base structure. As she hands you the gift, she makes sure to stay and explain the romantic symbolism behind the choice of flowers in the design. At the end, she teaches you the basics of handheld fan language.

asymmetrical clip-on earrings. One has a dangling delicate chain that ends with a silver moon charm, and the other is made out of thin fabric to resemble the wings of a butterfly. The earrings look like they were taken from two different sets, and yet they match in a beautiful contrasting way of day and night.

A single lotus flower. A real living freshly picked lotus flower with waterdrolpets clinging to the pale pink leaves. It's still in the process of blooming. You're not sure how Eva managed to acquire this flower in such a preserved state this quickly, maybe with the help of a friend or two. When Eva makes a passing comment on how she knows a good herbal recipe to make with lotus flowers, Dankovsky almost chokes on his drink as he opens his mouth to say something before deciding against it.

A blank book, the pages aren't well aligned, and they vary in thickness. The leather cover holding them together is stiched by hand with the spine. Eva made it herself, she confessed, it took a long time. The pages hold the slightest hint of perfume to them, a soft smell that threatens to be washed away with each passing wind. She heard someone was bringing you a pen, and so she wanted to provide you with the pages.

♧

Maria Kaina

She commands the room effortlessly with her presence. Even the more rowdy guests feel a sense of shame under her heavy gaze as they quiet down and keep the destructiveness to a minimum. Dressed up to the nines in one of her best maroon dresses, she looks nothing short of bewitching while walking as if she was floating on air. You find yourself mesmerised by her beauty for a moment while she stands in front of you, your reaction clearly feeding her ego.

A golden picture frame. You've seen similar ones hanging around the crucible with paintings inside, depicting her late mother while others capture her own likeness with. Gold is her colour. You come to the conclusion as you lift the frame and look through it at the elegant figure of Maria, looking at you unimpressed with one lifted eyebrow. If you're out of paintings, she'll let you borrow one of the Stamatin twins to make do with, they technically work for her family after all.

perfume...or is it a colonge? You can't really tell. It's certainly strong with an ever-lasting smell, but the smell itself doesn't sting your nose despite how intense it is. It weaves itself seemingly through your senses, and for a second, you almost find yourself in a trance as your heart skips a beat. Hours later into the party, you find yourself still reminiscing about that lovely scent. The reproctutions of using that bottle might outweigh the benefits, and you realise you must think twice before touching it again.

A carving of flowers made from mundane stone. The material looks unexpectedly dull with a simple design until you view the art piece under direct sunlight. That's when it... remains an ordinary stone. Maybe for someone surrounded by gems, marbles, and silks all her life, the beauty of the mundane is hard to come by. You're reminded of the tale of Meduca as you stare at the hardened petals. Which one of the goddesses did this humble flora anger, you wonder.

♧

Mark Immortell

You're not sure when he arrives. You don't see him come in, nor do you hear the door. You just turned around a corner in your room and saw him staring out of the window. He smiled at you as he offered you one of three choices.

A snake's venom, you feel the glass vial staring back at you. The liquid is transparent red, much like diluted blood swirling around itself.

A bull's horn, with a hollow inside only the shell of bones remains. You put it to your ear and listen to the sounds of worms digging beneath the earth.

A mouse's heart, it's barely the size of your fingernail. Beating still, contrasts of red and blue veins pumping nothing into the void. You say hello, and it squeaks back.

♧

Vlad the Younger

From the way he seems to be studying the atmosphere of the party, it becomes apparent he is out of his usual element here. If you confront him about it, he admits that he never attended a birthday celebration before, even his own he'd usually ignore and be absent for. He simply didn't care for them, never saw the point. Although, since the day his sister was born, he made a habit of leaving gifts for her the day prior. It's a shame she grew out of playing with toys too soon.

A ruby ring it, was for someone else. The framing is made out of solid gold. It weights heavy on your palm and doesn't fit your finger quite right. A clear crimson crystal sits in the middle, not a single flaw amidst the professionally cut gem. For a second, you wonder if it's a proposal from how much the thing resembled an engagement ring. Vlad quickly clears the misunderstanding before it has time to occur. It simply is just a ring. Nothing more and nothing less. If the size is too off, just send it back to him, and he'll take care of resizing it for you.

a precious doll in a puffy dress. It's clearly meant for children yet is still on the high-end expensive kind of dolls, the ones you see in glass box displays. It comes with two different dresses and a golden hairbrush with a butterfly engraved on the back. You think you've seen a similar doll of this style on one of the shelves in Capella's room. Except this one is brand new while the one belonging to his sister was clearly well-loved and played with constantly in the past. He hands it to you with a melancholic smile.

♧

Georgiy Kain

He's very punctual with time, arrives exactly on the stroke of at the hour you've informed him the party would start at, and leaves on the dot at 9pm before bidding his farewells and congratulating you on throwing a successful social event. Saying he looks forward to next year's party, ah, but maybe you'd rather borrow the crucible for it? The location you've picked isn't exactly the most fitting, nor was the space accommodating enough. If you offer to walk him home, he'd find it amusing and indulge you by accepting the offer. The two of you walk about life and its meaning during the short walk.

A one of a kind vase, moulded by his own hands from clay. Countless hours must have been spent in the workshop for a vase to look this effortlessly flawless, as close to perfection as humanity can strive for. He humbly insists it was not a bother, the work was worth it. After all, if he doesn't push his limits with every single piece he makes, how is he supposed to improve? Each one has to put the last to shame, or else the whole process has been a failure, is what the judge explains to you as you awkwardly stand there holding the vase, hands getting sweaty and making you more aware of the possibility of accidentally breaking it. You hurry to carefully place it down a stable surface midway through his speech.

♧

Victor Kain

His congratulations are exactly tailored to fit the minimum standards of what's socially acceptable. He mostly keeps to himself through the party, discreetly keeping an eye on who's Maria's mingling with and making sure Casper doesn't break anything with the wooden sword he insisted on bringing while fighting with Notkin. Midway through the event, him and Bad Grief end up engrossed in their own conversation near the grandfather clock at the entrance of your house.

flowers, a bouquet of pure white roses and peace lilies, to be precise. A milky silk ribbon holds the deep green stems together in a delicate bow. A smaller ribbion made out of transparent lace makes a second bow right below the first one serving a decorative purpose. As you hold it and stare at yourself in the mirror, you get a sinking feeling in your stomach. You quickly place it into his brother's vase instead.

[shmowder]

hnn more Pathologic x reader rambles.

This is more of a general thing, but imagine their reaction to a reader with modern clothes? Especially with how fashion evolved and the more...revealing it got.

Like the sparkly dresses, the mini skirts and flowery tops. Or, on a more masculine note, the skin-tight leather pants, the silver body accessories, and airy silk blouses.

They try to remain respectful of course, but you do practically look like a very rich slut in their eyes. Even without a cent to your name, modern clothes just have these distinct features that stand out. It's reminiscent of the Capital's cutting-edge fashion, creme de la creme of what they consider to be progressive outfits.

Hell, even zippers are probably a fascinating thing thing to them. The mental image of attempting to survive a plague and walk around town in high heels, just clicking away, is very entertaining too.

I think Eva would be the most likely character to fall for a well-dressed reader. She'd want to know about your clothes, admiring your beauty from afar before putting on her best outfit and building her confidence enough to approach you. She'd be so sweet, too, getting flustered when you offered her to try your coat or necklace. If you happen to wear rings and give her one of yours, She'd scream internally while you put it on her finger.

The second person would probably be one of the stamatin twins. They appreciate art. Clearly your outfit has some inspiration behind it, not to mention how eye catching it is.

Peter asking to paint you, sending you an invitation to his studio, calling you his muse from that day on forward. Sketches of you on drawing papers litter the room, he starts brainstoming ideas for new outfits for you to try on.

Andrey, whose eyes follow you the second you enter the broken heart pub. You're turning heads, and he smoothly introduces himself by offering you a drink. There's no way he is letting some random grub chat you up before him. Inquiring about your clothes, saving you a permanent spot on his table.

Just a modern reader being viewed as a strangery dressed captivating person, people assuming you're from the Capital. To them, even a hoodie and some shorts are the equivalent to what high fashion currently looks to us in the modern world.

[shmowder]

Hello!!👋👋 I was wondering if you could write about something with Andrey& a reader? Just from his character I feel he’d be sort of conflicted about loving another person that isn’t Peter. But that’s just what I’ve gathered from playing, I would love to hear your thoughts on this! I also wouldn’t mind a little smut, only if you want that is.

Andrey Stamatin x reader headcanons

[Fluff, Romance, Slight Angst, Smut, Feelings of conflict, GN Reader]

Falling in love

Many people in this world never get to experience love through the entirety of their life.

Not true love, not really.

Doeant matter what kind, agape, eros, philia, philautia, storge, and xenia.

Not once were they granted mercy by the gods

Even the ones born with loving families are bound to grow up eventually, to spend the remaining of their miserable existence seeking a resembling of that graden in another's arms

They fail

They always fail

Is what Andrey genuinely believed

He only has his brother in this life, and his brother only has him

Clinging to each other amidst the storm, sleeping next to each other in the same bed to drive away the whispering abyss of despair, lifting each other up when one of them tiptoes too close to the edge of life, mesmerised by the promises of comfort death gave

It was unhealthy, he isn't blind

But the healthy and sane could never claim to have created miracles like these two twins

Andrey was convinced that he would never come to loving another the same.

He would steal the moon, would Peter ever ask for it.

Many lovers came and went, men and women alike

Passing through him like ripples through water, never breaking the tension of his surface, never disrupting what sharks lurked below.

Never lasting

He should consider himself lucky for having learned what love is at all, for having felt it

Maybe that's why you shook his world so much

He knew exactly what the burning in his heart meant when you smiled his way

Akin to a whirlpool emerging from below the waves, a vortex reaching deep into the floor of his ocean

To say he was conflicted was the understatement of the century

During some sleepless nights, the ache in his chest was bordering unbearable.

stronger than any withdrawal he went through, what a sin it felt not to look your way across the street as you walked by. Not to gaze upon your face every day

He toyed most with the idea of killing you during those nights

At the end of the day, you were just a flesh bag of meat and bones

A collection of multitudes of bacterial micro-bioms

One bullet is all that it would take.

To end this misery, to scare off the unkown.

To wallow in the comfort of the familiar and mundane like a pig in the mud

He was disgusted with himself, when did he hold such regressive views? When did he ever shy away from the danger of the new?

Enough was enough, he decided to face these feelings headon no matter how terrifying they felt.

No matter how painfully his organs twisted around themselves as if he was betrayiny his oath to Peter for simply loving you

But Andrey knew he would lose all the respect he held for himself if he continued choosing to be a coward

Hiding away was never his style

He'll sail directly into the thunderstorm, choke for air as his eyes burned from the salty ocean waters.

He'd rather surrender his body to the ruthless waves than end up some lost soul on a shore, knowing he was at the edge of witnessing once in a life time greatness but let something as pathetic as fear cloud his judgement.

It didn't go smoothly, confessing to you in a rather blunt apathetic way.

He is used to people crawling for crumbs of his attention, not the other way around.

But he doesn't give up, even when he makes an embarrasment of himself.

That one time, he wanted to buy you a drink, but the glass ended up shattering on the bar's wooden floor when your hand touched his own as he was handing it to you.

It's weird. He feels like he is acting out of character, this doesn't feel like him.

But he has never felt more himself than when he looked at his reflection in your eyes.

He tries to look intimidating, he is dangerous goddammit

...So why do soft laughs come so easily to you when in his company?

Why are you innocent brushes against his shoulder while walking together so electric?

Why can't he stop thinking of you even in a room full of people desperate for his approval

Why aren't you afraid? You should be.

....

But he is content that you aren't.

He will never say it.

But it was a huge burden off of his shoulder for you to do all the heavy lifting when it came to looking past his draped veils of ruthless facades

Ever since loving you, life started feeling anew

Emotions blossoming between his lungs, the hours are longer, the sun burns more brightly as the curtains of dusk fall down.

And his world isn't ending just because he loved another

You surprisingly get along with Peter, very few people in this world ever do. His brother can understand what Andrey saw in you.

The meaning was clear.

Go for it.

Many people in this world never get to experience love through the entirety of their life.

Not true love, not really.

How lucky was Andrey to experience it twice.

♧

Smut Headcanons

[ Dom Andrey/ Sub Reader. Riding, Spitting, Drug-use, Peircing, Exhibition ]

Andrey has a lifetime of sexual experience. He could fill a thousand books.

He could write a hundred reviews for every risqué club which has a reservation under his name.

He tried everything at least twice just to figure out where his preferences laid

Is more than open to experimentation with you

No matter how niche or bizarre your kinks might get, Andrey skimmed over a manual mentioning it in some Captial sex club in the past

He's not deluded with the glamorised version of sex most people tend to hold. If anything, he prefers the stark reality.

The sweat, the groans and the body hair. He lives for something real, someone unsure slowly becoming more comfortable and confident until they let themselves succumb to the pleasure unapologetically

His own kinks vary, it seems like a game of roulette with him which thing will turn him on this time around

But he tends to fall on the dominant controlling end as a habit

Especially loves it when he gets to show off in front of you, almost a form of ritual how he likes to manhandle you in bed

Picking you up just to flip you over so you can look him in the eyes while he eats you out. Teeth grazing over your clit just to watch your thighs shake and twitch.

Digging his nails at the inside of your thighs as he sucks your cock, teasingly licking the head until you're begging to have his warm mouth back on it.

Making you kiss him afterwards and get a taste of your own cum, taunting you with the evidence of your pleasure

Having you sit on his lap all pretty as he lazily rocks his leg to grind against your crotch

One thumb tracing your lips, enjoying the glazed over look of lust in your eyes. The lights are on but no one is home, he can do anything to you and the fact you'd let him feeds his ego like no other.

Pulling you into a kiss as his knee presses harder between your legs, having you squirming on his lap while he makes you swallow his spit in your mouth

The power you let him hold over you is dangerously addicting

He adores it when you leave marks on him, especially with the way he casually walks around with his chest bare for all to see.

For them to stand witness to the hickeys you left littering his neck, to the scratches of your nails down his back.

If you happen to wear lipstick, he will have you on your knees in front of him. Worshipping his cock and leaving kiss marks along his length before moving upwards to his his stomach, chest and finally face.

Wears the smeared makeup marks with pride, especially with the suggestive trail disappearing just below his pants

It's clear he has a preference for the foreplay and theatrics, enjoying them even more than the actual act at times.

Doesn't shy away from using drugs and other stimulants before it, he claims it enhances his experience.

Will offer to share, promising that even just a small drink beforehand will have you experiencing feelings like no other.

But he's not insistant if you decline, he shrugs and doesn't mention it.

Andrey would find it insanely hot if you ever happened to get a piercing, the more inappropriate the are the more lightheaded he gets.

He'd even personally commission you jewellery for them

Flicking the dangling chain from the barbells going through your nipples, watching your body jump as pain twists into pleasure the more he toys with them.

You could very easily convince him into getting one too.

His favourite position would be a one with you riding him, be it his face or cock. Having you on top while he holds all the power below just clicks with his brain right.

Not to mention the great show he gets from watching you bounce up and down, struggling to fit all of him while your thighs are getting cramped from the restless movement.

Begging with your eyes for him to help, whining as you can't get his cock to rub inside you just like Andrey does.

He liked reminding you of how much you're dependent on him for pleasure, of how much he has you spoiled rotten.

No one will ever fuck you like he does, you belong to him body and soul.

Even you can't bring yourself pleasure like he does.

You need him, don't you?

Ask for it.

For him to pick you up and slam his cock into you just right, to stretch your insides and fill you up.

To have your brain turning into mush with each thrust, have you crying into his shoulder from how much it feels too much, too good.

As much as he likes finishing inside, the view of your naked body covered with his cum is too irresistible.

Sending you over the edge before pulling out and rubbing himself at the view of your spasming body mid-climax

Strands of cum falling against your thighs. Painting your stomach and even reaching your chest.

Warm and sticky against your skin

You feel the head of his cock brushing your lips, a silent order to take the thing in your mouth and clean it.

In the aftermath, you're wrapped inside a soft blanket, fresh out of the shower as you drift off to sleep on top of his chest.

You feel his fingers moving against your back, drawing circles and sketching diagrams while his mind turns.

Newborn inventions getting scrapped before they make it into fully fledged ideas.

By the end, he wraps his arms around you as he pulls you tighter into his embrace.

As if he's afraid to lose you, to wake up in the morning with empty hands.

[shmowder]

X reader Drabbles

Alexander Saburov

criminal childhood friend reader

Specific fetishes: Dacryphilia + Thigh kink

-

Andrey Stamatin

proposing to him with a ring

-

Artemy Burakh

AroAllo Artemy x reader

Why you'd divorce him

Ex-husband HC

size kink smut

-

Daniil Dankovsky

Bicker and love

Ex-husband HC

The day you hand the divorce papers

How you two got married

Fluffy marriage HC

Marriage HC when you're on your period

smut oral fixation

With a reader on T

With a reader who has a cat

With pierced biker reader

Introducing yourself as a "doctor"

Psychologist reader pt.1

Psychologist reader pt.2

-

Marriage ceremony with kin reader

Deliberately ignoring you while you ride his thigh

Georgiy Kain

Secret admirer

Love dynamic

Trip to the Capital

-

Katerina Saburova

Not so innocent affair

-

Maria Kaina

Devoted knight

-

Oyun

Specific fetishes: Humiliation + CBT

Dommed + kicked by a short reader

Gently topping him

-

Peter Stamatin

Mouthfeeding you alcohol

-

Stanislav "Stakh" Rubin

Teasing him about his size kink

-

Victor Kain

X reader fluff

-

Vlad the younger

Calling the wrong name during sex

Relationship thoughts

One-sided Love

-

Yulia Lyuricheva

Specific fetishes: Toxic butch masculinity

Wearing a strap 24/7

-

Multiple characters / General

Reaction to modern reader's clothes

What they bring to your birthday Pt.1

Yandere concepts

General Yandere ideas

What their kiss feels like Pt.1 [Maria, Eva, Lara]

What their kiss feels like Pt.2 [Aglaya, Yulia, Katerina, Victor, Alexander]

with an inexperienced reader

General wedding ideas

Generel ex-spouse ideas

More Yandere ideas + music

Pursuing unhappily married reader pt.1

Pursuing unhappily married reader pt.2

Petnames Pt.1 [Artemy, Daniil, Victor, Rubin, Bad Grief]

Physical Affection

ideal reader for them

Plague doctor Reader and smut crybaby reader

Dom Aglaya/Reader, Sub Big Vlad/Reader

Old Coots Polycule

Finding out you have 10 cats

Threesome with Victor and Nina

Aglaya, Andrey and foreign poetry

Petnames Pt.2 [Aglaya, Yulia, Katerina]

-

Poly Artemy & Daniil

Hysteria

Hysteria pt.2

Hysteria pt.3

General Dynamic

Using you to settle an argument

Switching places

-

Poly Victor & Alexander

Threesome

Putting them in a "get along" sweater

[shmowder]

X Reader works

Sorted in alphabetical order based on the character's names, except when a work contains multiple characters, then you'll find it at the end of the list.

Gold ♧ is a traditionally written style fanfic [ usually crossposted to Ao3 ]

Red ♧ is a drabble/headcanon style Fanfic [ Not on my Ao3 ]

[A -> Z]

Andrey Stamatin

♧ Falling in love & Smut HC [Fluff, Smut]

-

Bad Grief

♧ General relationship HC [fluff]

-

Daniil Dankovsky

♧ Mors tua, vita mea [angst, comfort]

♧ Death Is The Only Way Out [angst, comfort, meta]

♧ Meeting your toxic Ex [Yandere]

-

Mark Immortell

♧ The Devil Works Hard [Heavy Smut]

-

Stanislav Rubin

♧ choosing him over everyone [fluff, comfort]

-

Victor Kain

♧ Mea columba [smut]

-

Yulia Lyuricheva

♧ Dating headcanons [Fluff]

-

♧ Smut headcanons [Smut]

♧ Falling asleep on her shoulder [Fluff]

Multiple characters

♧ Aword [Andrey, Peter]

♧ Dealing with clumsy Reader [Artemy, Daniil, Rubin]

♧ What they bring to your birthday Pt.1 [Platonic]

♧ What they bring to your birthday Pt.2 [Platonic/Suggestive]

♧ How they would comfort you [fluff, comfort, Artemy, Daniil]

♧ Healers when you contract the plague [platonic]

♧ Saburovs threesome [smut, Katerina, Alexander]

♧ Healers with a very punny reader [platonic]

♧ Sharing a bed with them [fluff]

[shmowder]

maybe a yandere peter stamatin x male reader, where he gets andrew to do all the killing because he doesn’t wanna get his hands dirty but his twin is more than willing. for science, of course.

Only having one of them be the yandere is very interesting. Based on past events, Peter doesn't even need to voice his murder requests out loud.

Look at what happened to Farkhad only because he had a disagreement with Peter.

Andrey takes the initiative a lot of times, going off of his own gut, or maybe it's Peter who assumes that him and his twin are two of one mind and if he's feeling something then Andrey must surly understand.

Believe it or not, Peter by himself as a yandere is very tame. All of his destructiveness is contained within his room, manifesting through disturbing art, intoxication, and a spiralling mental state. If he would ever hurt anyone, it'd be himself.

It's Andrey who is responsible for 90% of the actual crimes he'd do in the stead of his brother. Even if it's kidnapping or murder, he simply can't stand and watch his brother suffering in pain. Andrey doesn't care if this enables his brother's unhealthy yandere tendecies, he only cares that Peter remains alive, tethering him to the edge of sanity so he doesn't slip off from the real world entirely.

Knowing there is only so many times he can slip through the governor's shackles—only so many times Maria & the Kains can vouch for him—Andrey would rather have an adult sit down with you and directly inform you of the situation.

Admiting his brother's obsessive infatuation, how it's better for you to come inside with your own two legs than indirectly be responsible for the many lives he'll take because of you. Everyone you hold dear will ignite the fires of envy within Peter's heart, and Andrey will have no choice but to remove them from the board, is that what you really want?

[shmowder]

Twyrin is a bop, it's like the Alone in the Town from Silent Hill 2 of Patho 2. When those sad clown noises kicked in in Haruspex Is All Alone... I really like that one.

My favorites from P2 are Useless Science (Victor + Yulia's houses), Deep Dreaming (Maria + Saburov's (I think?) houses), Childhood Grave (Nutshell), Doctor's Dead, and Mourning of the Gone (I have no idea when these two play), along with most of the Theodor Bastard tracks.

Love love love the contrast between yandere Yulia, Victor, and Aglaya. Your characterization feels right for all of them; they're so distinct from each other but I love em all <3

The meta elements of the game are something I haven't given much thought to and I hope they're explored more in P1! Like I know technically the game is a play - Aglaya, Mark, Tragedians will address you the player, everyone's an actor, but I know there's SO much more to it that I just kinda gloss over.

Finished P2 today!! It was great. I had stacks of leftover eggs. Big Vlad said I have the heart of a dove. I found Clara less annoying this time, hooray. The conversations you have with the kids on Day 10 😭💔 I remember the last few days being emotional but wow. Both of the main endings make me sad, as I'm sure they're supposed to. That being said, Diurnal 4ever. Now, onto the Marble Nest.

Did you know there are lizards carved in to the stair railings of the Broken Heart? It's cute because Peter Stamatin's animal is a monitor lizard :)

I'm not really in the Pathologic fandom either lmao. Just someone who likes x readers who also liked playing P2 and found your blog at the best possible time and now I may have a hyperfixation and I'm genuinely excited to play P1, wonky graphics and all :) I understand where you're coming from with not wanting to get canon, fanon, and your own opinions muddled up ^^

-

Competent reader who already is an established, independent person in the world! Ooh I can see why you're fixated on the sword one... I like the idea of a healer who works with the Dogheads. I'm fond of the cannon one, too. Generally reader who nebulously exists to be loved by [character] is my lifeblood, you know, just a projection of the idealized self or whatever. But when the reader really feels like a fully formed person - well, it might limit the projection possibilities but it allows you to better explore *why* the character is interested in them to begin with. <- Not meant to be negative btw, I'm just getting tired and forgetting how to craft sentences 😅

What you said about noticing your anons' style and reading between the lines to determine what they might like is so genuinely sweet I am just 🥹🥹 I'm so glad you think it's fun! Somehow you managed to read my mind with Mea Columba despite me not even telling you it was my request until you were done already but truly it was like that fic was beaming directly into my soul or something <33

Don't worry, I don't feel pressured ^^ Thank you, though, and same to you of course! I don't want you to feel pressured, either. I can see this becoming an endless circle of not wanting each other to feel pressured 😂

🐿️ anon

Oh useless science is absolutely amazing! I like pathologic's tendency to subtly poke fun at its own characters in the soundtrack or environment design. It's both cruel and so delicious.

I'm happy you enjoyed the Yandere HC! I tried to give each of them their distinct vibes. Yes they are characters who have a lot in common and call be grouped under the umbrella term of "seemingly cold and smart" but they are still so different.

Each of them holds contrasting principles, value different traits and views life and other people through contradicting lenses.

Aglaya searches for the meaning of life in every nook and cranny, takes all possible answers into consideration no matter how small.

Victor is part of something bigger than himself, bigger than humanity even and thinks the meaning of life should be shaped and scouplted.

While Yulia views it as more of a string of fate situations, life is simply a long series of coincidents. Reality branching with every decision you make and this thing called free-will is simply your mind coping with living in a reality out of your own control.

-

I'm lucky to have had someone like you stumble into my blog <3 You really do make the game more fun for me and I got to explore so many different sides and scenarios because of you. I enjoy these talks and hearing about your thoughts.

Woo congrats on finishing P2! Eggs are really the miracle of life aren't they? forget the polyhedron, it is the eggs which solved the famine! And omfg big vlad comment is kinda 👀 that man is really a romantic at heart isn't he.

And yes I do hope you'll enjoy P1! Once the wonky graphics become the new norm, you'll get as attached to them as P2 characters- God P1 Aspity makes me want to steal her out of the game and keep her safe in my pocket for eternity.

-

I didn't actually know about the lizards but once you mentioned it, I started seeing them everywhere! This is the bar stairs railing picture you attached:

But you also can notice a lizard in Andrey's concept art too! on the fan he's carrying around.

Andrey's symbolic animal is the shark so the lizard here is definitely meant just for Peter. You don't even find the lizard in Peter's own concept art, showing his loss of identity maybe? Or how Andrey's keeping his memory alive.

It is a little sad, how much more important Peter is to Andrey than the other way around. One will always care for the other more.

A lizard and a shark, how uniquely beautiful.

Talking about siblings, Capella has the butterfly while Vlad the younger has the bear. Maria has the cobra while Khan has the hedgehog.

-

Yeah, the more specific a reader gets, the less inclusive they become. However, sometimes that makes them even more popular amongst reader in a surprising turn.

Maybe because it builds a story better? Like they are still a blank state in some areas but giving them one gimmick makes them stand out and pull in people who wanted to see that gimmick explored.

Think of how much of an interesting dynamic a Doctor Reader would be with Daniil or an army general reader with Aglaya.

A kin reader with the Rubin or a bartender with Andrey. What if we just throw Daniil out the window and make the bachelor role a reader insert then have it be Reader x Victor or Reader x Artemy?

The detailed ideas I previously described started as simple concepts too, one gimmick, one trait and a blank state reader. Then I filled in the blanks the more I thought about it because it was fantasy for the sake of fantasy at the time.

If I ever turn them into legit readers I'd clean them up and remove some parts. Simplify their concepts as much as possible so there is room for other people to add in their own detials.

The dogheads reader started bc I wanted a character that carries a cool sword around and thought "hey khan likes sword maybe he will let them into the polyhedron" Then it spiraled into a noble knight reader who tries to remain chivalrous but prefers the past to the future unlike the utopians.

The herbbride x reader was because I wanted to smooch a herb bride pls let pls :"(((

A plague doctor reader who is actually equipped to deal with plagues and has the cool bird mask and everything rather than having Daniil improvise.

Detective reader is a favourite, they're more of a noir Detective and a drunk loser? Think Harry from Disco elysium but a younger version who is still more put together and eager to solve crime.

-

I'm happy you liked Mea Columba <33 I enjoyed writing it and exploring that side of Victor.