pop culture of my heart

Maria is leaned over the rail to the lake in the park.

Her mind is fogged with strange, unsettlingly familiar and yet unknown - to her - thoughts.

She only knows she should be here, for something.

The cold and humidity almost a insignificant detail while Maria keeps on trying to figure out what are those thoughts (memories?) about and if they…mean something to her. If they have something to do with her.

She doesn't understand why but she barely moves when she hears the footsteps.

It's so, they are so…comfortably familiar in a way. But also…uncomfortable, just… a little bit.

They distantly remind Maria of the monsters, but just distantly; if it were them, the footsteps wouldn’t come alone.

She doesn’t turn right away, though, her gaze sliding over the fog floating over the still water - oddly enough, she can hear it moving. Her mind feels comfortably sluggish, even when something feels…wrong, like a chill wind brushing across an open wound.

A shift on the ground, like a footwear scuffing across the concrete makes Maria’s breath catch in her throat.

Slowly, she loosens up again, sighing deeply before turning.

Maria just tilts her head to the side, though, turning her face to the newcomer.

The woman stops beside her.

She looks sick as if she was about dying. But her posture was somewhat…firm enough.

Like some sort of out of body experience. As if in the latency period of her illness before things got worse.

Maria keeps watching the other just breathing, her delicate hands curled around the rails.

Something like a scene…from a…movie? Pops in her head, a flimsy image.

Maria blinks, confused, retreating her upper body a little.

The other woman turns to her.

“It's confusing, isn’t it?” She frowns slightly, eyes distant. Hands tightening around the bars.

Then back at Maria.

Maria raises an eyebrow.

“Who…?” She lets out, defensively, stepping back, just one foot, the heel of her boot scraping the concrete, a startle reminder of her physicality, just a slight move away before nodding, slowly, as if something dawns on her. “Yeah, I guess…it is…”

The other woman nods as slowly, but her eyes shift again, slowly back to the horizon.

The brunette still watching ahead says:

“Please, don't let love guide you wherever it demands…” she says it very quietly, voice cracking at the word love, the words turning small, a soft vibration of air. “Maybe not…love, but…the desire to be loved at…whatever costs.”

The woman is staring at her scarred hands, as if talking by experience, by experienced pain.

Maria doesn't understand any of it. Doesn’t know what the woman is talking about but nods at the words, at the woman.

Something about it…feels like wisdom.

Like a real teaching. No matter how her body feels like refusing that with every fiber of it.

The woman turns to her once more, smiling sadly, a barely there smile, a twitch of the side of her lips.

She raises her hand once, weakly, as if to touch, to comfort, in the direction of Maria's face, even though it didn’t surpassed the line of her waist, but it falls like weary resignation.

“I’m sorry you have to…” the woman says, pressing her lips, her eyebrows digging in pity or compassion before she looks away, her thin legs in floral, dusty pijamas dragging her away.

Maria swallows hard, stepping forward to follow, pressing her lips in apprehension and anxiety but she only raises her arm while the woman disappears in a fogged corner.

It feels asphyticating, this experience, like watching a mirror…of your self of years ago, of a lifetime ago.

Like one self that isn’t your self anymore.

Maria takes a deep breath of the freezing cold fog, her lungs hurting a little.

What was she doing?

She looks at the fog over the lake.

Ah.

“James…”

She practically forgets everything else as she comes back to her spot, bent over the rail.

He’s coming.

He’s coming for her.

Notes:

Notes:

I put b-12/OC or b-12/Reader because I think it can be read either other way.

B-12 didn't remember his own name, nor did he remember the names of his family members, but he had immediately recognized the woman's voice in the voicemail.

It was a not sent message.

A message that had failed to be delivered.

Of course, she was...in Midtown?

And...

He was in the Slums.

"I...miss you, Eric. Have missed you for a--" she stopped mid-sentence to cough, a dry one, her voice turning raspy as she continued.

The cat made a small noise, like a short meow, as if asking for clarification.

"Shhh," B-12 hissed as softly as he could, trying to be gentle to his only friend in the midst of his agitation.

His metal, little body floating closer to the tablet.

"But I...Can't get out," she coughed again, "I'm...You know wh--Just...I wish you knew at least."

The message ended, almost abruptly.

Silence.

B12 wandered to the side, his body tilting a little sideways before coming closer to his small friend.

"It's...it's her. I'm sorry... I can't..."

He moved a little away, quieting again.

So much to process. Again.

The grief that was stolen from him.

His sweet angel.

James wanted Maria back.

Mary was gone forever, he knew, but he had Maria. 

But one day, she was simply… gone, too.

She could die and be brought back, right?

He hadn’t expected her to die, too. Maybe he should have, considering she had died twice before in the town.

But James waited - not more than a few hours. Angry and feeling betrayed, he came back to Silent Hill.

That goddamn town needed to give her back to him. She was everything he had now. She wasn’t Mary, and deep down - James normally wouldn’t even think of mentioning it to her - James wished Maria acted (more) like her, like his sweet, tender Mary. But he almost had asked once, almost, and Maria grew so mad, mad enough for him to apologize, lower his head, and go on with their day.

Now, he was back here.

Looking for her again. Any of them. He would have preferred his darling, but Maria was…something. He needed something!

James marched around town like he owned the place, but fatigue was coming to get him anyway, and soon enough, he was too tired to act tough.

Walking through the shadows of the houses, he looked around with unfocused, distant eyes.

His head was always the loudest of his enemies, even despite how much he suppressed it in his face, in his words, in his actions.

After hours of walking around, James decided to take a shut eye on a house, barricading the entries with heavy furniture; the sort of furniture you don’t see anywhere anymore, too durable to be replaced with flimsy plastic.

~

He woke up the next morning far too early to see anything. Far too early to have had a good rest.

The nightmares weren’t even that bad, oddly enough.

His body hurt from sleeping on an old and far too soft mattress, and his nostrils were suffocatingly swollen from the dusty, stagnant air.

James got up as fast as he could, almost stumbling, to put his nose in the crack of the still-open window, his fingers caressing the swollen skin from outside. It got a little better; he felt like breathing something again.

After taking the dresser from the door, he felt a pang of hunger, but he knew eating here would not work well for him. Even so, he took a package that did not seem to have gone bad just yet and walked out of the building.

He walked aimlessly as he ate some cookies that, despite feeling stale and wonky, were edible…enough.

Almost without thinking, he took a boat from the Rosewater Park dock.

There was fog like the day he first came looking for her, but now James was even more careless, and he knew what he had done. He hadn’t forgotten anything. There was no need to go through memory land to dig out his skeletons from the closet.

~

After what felt like forever, James was almost giving up in the middle of the lake when he found the hotel dock in the distance.

His eyes could barely believe it. He had made it here!

That was…inexplicable…Unless…

It was Silent Hill, wasn’t it?

James sighed, getting up to the lone, small dock, holding his waist as he glanced up, just like he had done one year ago.

It didn’t seem to have changed at all.

Maybe it was just the slowness of nature taking its time to take over.

Nothing in Silent Hill seemed to change…

Unless one wanted to count the decay of all things living (or existing.)

He walked up the stairs to the hotel with significant effort and exertion.

James felt like he had stayed forever in that boat, his legs still trembling a little as if protesting the position they had been in for so long.

It was here, he reminded himself, that he got to the end of that…trial. It was here that James came to terms with what he did, or at least it was here that he finally realized and accepted that he did kill Mary…

Even though he didn’t want to live with the consequences of his actions: with Mary’s death, by taking Maria as a replacement that didn’t quite replace (well enough)

Deep in thought, he was stuck in the middle of the rooms’ corridor when he heard a metallic sound, his radio making a sharp noise.

James looked back, feeling what he thought was a stare at his nape.

The Pyramid thing…was alive?!

James raised, with a trembling hand at first, his pistol to him before…The monster ignored him?!

What the hell was…

The creature entered a room after forcing the door handle, keeping the door open behind himself.

James blinked, lowering his gun to his thigh. He tilted his head to the side.

What was that thing doing…that he didn’t…?

James couldn’t help the morbid curiosity that took root in him as he followed the creature inside, slowly.

Suddenly, before he could see where the Pyramid thing was, he saw a giant hole in the wall.

Was…?

He came about slowly again, looking around warily.

This hole…! It was…different than the ones he’s seen.

It doesn’t go down, it goes…forward?

James narrowed his eyes, leaning in a little to see: he could see a part of it, more than he used to see from them back in the day.

The hole was a tunnel, not a smooth one, but he could see a great part of it, or so he thought. The end was almost pitch black, but there was some light coming from it and…noises? Moaning, crying…a kid’s laughter?

What the hell was this?

He leaned deeper. It smelled dump but not stale. It didn’t smell like rotten for once.

James frowned as he held himself with the gun against those weird symbols on the corners.

That was…a way to somewhere, right?

Maybe this way, he could get to Maria, could ask her to come back to him. Maybe…

He sighed deeply, pressing his lips, squaring his shoulders.

James had nothing to lose but his life, and he didn’t care too much about it, anyway.

So he started crawling inside the hole.

~

On

and

on

and

on

and

on

and

ON!

When he was out, he was already feeling cramps in his legs. The exhaustion was getting to him, especially considering he was on an empty stomach for all this.

He slowly got out in what seemed to be a…bathroom? A domestic bathroom?

He almost dove headfirst on the concrete floor if he hadn’t been able to hold himself with his hands on the floor.

The movement he did to get out after was excruciating, slow, and demanding of his body.

He had to find a way to crawl back in and then turn his lower body forward to jump out of it.

Something about the layout of the bathroom seemed familiar, too uncomfortably familiar.

James looked around, side-eyeing the whole thing. Yeah, it looked too suspiciously like his dad’s apartment. Jesus Christ. What was he doing here? Was Silent Hill getting far too creative about the ways it tortured sinners? James scratched his head before touching the doorknob.

But then he stopped.

A noise.

“Nnnnngh.”

Moaning. Blush crept up in James’ neck as he listened, holding his breath.

“Ah…!”

What the hell was going on there?!

James couldn’t help but get intensely curious again. His breath growing ragged and uneven with adrenaline and thrill. He was too curious. Always had been.

He slowly opened the bathroom door to spy on what was happening.

James knew the Pyramid thing liked to cage in other monsters, but…He had used a whole ass hole just to catch another…monster in another dimension?

How was that smart--

Then he caught the Pyramid thing turning whatever or whoever he was pressing against the windows, and he saw…a person?

No? What…

And just like a year ago, James started shooting, like a freaking idiot. What was he…

It was an impulse!

James knew he was…insane, probably, but he wasn't completely heartless just yet.

Then he saw. He saw the man’s face. His eyes were covered in dried…blood? His head moved in slightly jerky movements.

Jesus…It’s not a person.

But it was…chanting something?

James couldn’t keep looking at him as the Pyramid thing turned to him, his giant head tilting to the side.

James blinked, raising his gun higher.

But the Pyramid thing just…kept “looking” at James.

From the corner of James’ eye, he could see the other creature floating…floating?!? Closer.

James’ mouth opened, but no sounds came out.

The Pyramid thing took a step forward, and James held himself tighter, waiting to be yanked up again like he was in the day when…

The ghost? Was that a ghost? How did Pyramid thing touch-

Just…intervened, his hand gently embracing the Pyramid’s lower belly.

If James wasn’t bewildered enough before, he was now.

The massive pyramid head turned to the side as if considering, as if looking back.

James’ lips fell open. Did monster ever feel…?

However, they might feel like, James couldn’t even consider further before it was all a blur as the Pyramid Head surged on him the next minute, and just like that day in the rooftops of the hospital, he threw James past the front door of the apartment.

James groaned under his breath, pain coursing through at the landing, but as his gaze rose, he didn’t see Pyramid Head following.

The blonde frowned, almost…disappointed? But the disappointment was soon replaced by dread as he heard some loud and agonizing moaning while floating creatures rushed up the corridor.

His eyes went wide, incredulous: more ghosts? Attacking, vengeful ghosts!? He frowned as he fumbled for his iron pipe on the ground in the dim, yellowish lit corridor, his gaze dropping to the dusty, grimy floor as well, as he was having a hard time finding the weapon.

His eyes were wild as he didn’t find the thing anywhere.

Sluggishly, James barged into the apartment again, trying to find something to defend himself with.

“Where the-” he looked around, desperately, ignoring everything around, especially the rest of the wax from candles perched everywhere.

Then he heard it again, the moan, groan, whatever it was, as something started emerging from the walls.

James shook his head frantically as he desperately glanced around, looking for a way out, for an object to defend himself.

He could hear now other moans, other noises. That…ghost and Pyramid thing were still there! Of course they were…

James ran to the bathroom after getting stuck for a while in his own head, throwing the ajar door open.

The hole was still there, so he came closer, but not without taking a peek behind.

The Pyramid Thing was still pressing the ghost against the wall, his hand shoved down the thing’s (?) pants, his tongue wrapped around the ghost’s throat.

What was…? James gasped. That was…

He had never seen Pyramid Head being this focused, this deliberate. And the ghost…he barely reacted, unless…for the hips arching up in that glove’s handle. Dragged out noises slipping out of…the ghost’s mouth.

James shook his head, hands searching for the hole as he wetted his dried lips, his eyes glued to the scene.

That was diabolical! He exclaimed inside his head as his cock throbbed with… interest?

Jesus Christ-- His breath got caught in his throat as he realized how it was affecting him.

He shook his head harder, his hands trembling. No, no…He turned to the hole and then his eyes back at the scene.

I need to….I need to get a hold of myself, swallowing hard, sweating, he entered the hole.

James was shaking so much. 

It was bad before, and now…now it seemed to have gotten even worse.

He.. has been so disgustingly needy that now he felt things at Pyramid Thing touching some sort of male…creature.

No! It was just his body betraying him. Needy for something, for touch, he needed to find Maria soon.

Akimov

He feels like the most patient of them teachers, and in general, really.

Plus, his moral compass and integrity are exceptional and something to inspire.

You couldn’t find a better boyfriend/husband.

Love with him feels safe, warm, right. It almost feels like living a fantasy.

Dyatlov

He’s a tyrant but not a sadistic.

He likes to keep control over his people, his plant, his control rooms, his family even; over everything.

Knows how people are prone to get distracted with their own issues to pay enough attention to do their work (as much as he thinks they should), especially if some unpleasant had happened at home.

People just have that tendency and Dyatlov hates it.

Maybe if they weren’t like that, he wouldn’t be such a “pain in the ass” like the kids would say when they thought he wasn’t looking.

And although, it might sound real bad (and it sort is), I think Dyatlov could be that sort of guy who would be more lenient to a mistress than to his wife (the show character ok!!!), because the mistress doesn’t have to do and to be as spotless as a wife, for example.

On the other hand, he could “slut shame” both…maybe.

I would choose (lol) the option that he can be intensely annoying about control and dominance, in a way, but also loyal and lenient and even adoring to the woman he actually admires and respects, not only for her external image that can work to make him look good and proud of whom he had married.

Either way, I think with Dyatlov, things can only be intense…for the good or the bad, depending on your interpretation.

Legasov

During and post-Chernobyl, Valery does one of two things:

Or he goes to bed early, but takes forever to sleep (which is the case especially after going back to Moscow);

Or he falls asleep in the middle of his work, late at night.

He would be sitting on armchair or on a simple chair (without really resting on anything, not even in the desk he would probably be working on.)

You could force him to sleep and it would be a slow process, because of course he would resist, but it would be a relief and a comfort for you to see and feel him on bed.

More sexual ones

Legasov and Akimov

They both feel like men who would adore their spouses, would love to eat their spouses out, for instances.

Akimov may be a bit messier than Legasov, but both would be generous lovers - at least when they have the time to be, that is.

Dyatlov

I think…like I said, he is intense, he really is, no matter what, no matter the context.