#silent hill leg monsters

[lemonspades]

She's so helpful in the remake isn't she?

[natjennie]

watching jacob and julia play the silent hill 2 remake and julia is.. very insistently demonstrating a specific interpretation of the symbols and themes and really like. spoiling the game kind of. in a way that I sort of... don't agree with? like I'm interpreting it way differently and I can't tell if I'm stupid or maybe she's being really aggressive and negative without any solid proof.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

The Silent Hill 2 remake reminds me of just how much Silent Hill caters to the individuals that are trapped within it. So I wonder what someone like Viggo would see.

[mirasmata]

Mutant Gummies Batch 2

Another batch of lil muties, this time featuring:

Pattycakes

Tails for ears is sorry she can't hear you (inspired by a comment on furaffinity)

Silent Hill legs monster

Isn't this just a regular fish?

[luwupo]

Idk who invented Silent Hill but it gave me Sid from Toy Story vibes

[demonlordcosnime]

lets play silent hill 2 remake part 21

[whimsyvixen]

And you're expecting me to run away from him?

Silent Hill: Homecoming (2008) | Platform: PC

[whimsyvixen]

𝔼𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕪 𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤

Silent Hill Fic Rating: 18+ Pairing: Pyramid Head x Female Reader Synopsis/Excerpt: His helmet had jerked your way, the sudden movement making your heart drop to your stomach. You couldn't look away from him, mouth agape at the towering menace. You didn't understand how, but you felt him peruse your form--nausea hitting you when he let out a guttural growl and headed straight for you. WARNINGS/TAGS: Dark fic, rape/noncon elements, extremely dubious consent, explicit content, blood play, heavy NSFW, teratophilia(?), monster/human, choking, dacryphilia, rough sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, tummy bulge, creampie, very obvious size difference. ⚠️ READ THE TAGS: Please be aware this work contains content that the reader may feel uncomfortable with or otherwise triggered by. DO NOT READ if bothered by tags (no minors). ⚠️

A/N: I had to make sure to finish this one before Halloween! Sorry for the long wait, you guys! I got no tricks with me so I'm just going to hand over this little treat right here ! 🍬

You hid beneath a large table, hands over your mouth to control your breathing as the floor shook. You could feel your heart beating intensely, the organ wanting to burst out of your chest as pure terror seized you when the footsteps paused near your hiding spot.

He was right in front of you. The only being you encountered in the desolate town of Silent Hill.

The monster. 

~

He had emerged out of an alley, swarmed by bugs as he trudged his way through, his massive frame freezing you in place. His head was encumbered by a steel frame, pyramid in its shape and heavy in appearance if his tortured groans were anything to go by. His scarred torso and bulging arms were bare, showcasing the immense power he held as he dragged a massive knife behind him.

You couldn't contain your gasp when you caught sight of it.

His helmet had jerked your way, the sudden movement making your heart drop to your stomach. You couldn't look away from him, mouth agape at the towering menace. You didn't understand how, but you felt him peruse your form--nausea hitting you when he let out a guttural growl and headed straight for you.

Fuck!

You bolted then, nearly tripping over your own feet in your desperation to get away from him. With the amount of blood soaking him and those unnerving growls, you weren't willing to take a chance and find out what he would do to you. Too afraid to look back, you continued running in the abandoned town, losing sight of where you were as you tried to find somewhere to hide. 

What buildings you could make out were old and rundown, their windows smashed and doors creaking ominously. They would not provide you with the cover you needed. You could faintly hear him behind you, breaking into a cold sweat when you turned your head and couldn't spot him in the dense fog. 

When you caught sight of the abandoned school, your lungs felt like bursting and your legs ached from overexerting yourself to run. Your body needed to rest before you collapsed from the fatigue. It was a large enough building that finding you would be a tasking ordeal for the monster. Perhaps he would give up his search for you and allow you to find a way out of this hellish place. You could only hope that you lost him earlier and he wouldn’t know where you crawled off to. 

Running up the steps to the entrance, you were met with the despairing sight of chains wrapped around the steel doors. 

“No, no, no…” you pleaded, grabbing onto the chains in hopes they were loose enough to open the doors. Luck was on your side, because they were– chains pulling taut around the doors, opening just enough to allow someone to squeeze through with some difficulty. Struggling to wiggle your way through, you pushed with all your might and breathed a sigh of relief when you fell inside. 

Taking deep breaths, you looked around and tried to make sense of your surroundings. Needing to squint your eyes to adjust seeing in the dark, you could see a narrow hallway with dirty and rusty lockers lined along the walls. It was an uncanny sight, the broken down doors of the classrooms and splintering wood of the floor making you realize how decrepit this place was. It was so unkempt and old that you flinched when the floorboards creaked with every step you took. You felt like dying every time the floor protested your weight and critters ran spooked by the noise.

The hall turned a sharp corner to the left, more lockers and doors appearing on either side of the walls as before. It was then you noticed the broken elevator, the metal frame twisted in sharp angles and torn cables dangling from tears in the ceiling. If there was an elevator here, then that must mean there was a way up! 

Not caring this time about the noise you made, you hurried to the end of the hall trying to see if you could find some way to get to the second floor. If you could just get there, you would have the advantage of viewing who (or what) was below you on the ground. Maybe even spot a route or path out of this place. Passing by the restrooms, you nearly gagged when a putrid stench hit your nose. The buzzing of flies and roaches in the area made you squeamish, your face scrunching into a disgusted grimace at the dirty facilities before continuing your trek forward.

Finding the stairs was a much harder task than you expected. Faced with multiple locked areas of the building, you were forced to backtrack and navigate through other sections of the building to find another way up. It seemed like a dead end everywhere you turned. 

Just when you were about to give up, you finally spotted stairs leading to the upper floor. 

“Finally,” you muttered in exasperation. Your turtle neck shirt was damp with your sweat, clinging to your body so uncomfortably that you would definitely need a shower soon. Placing a hand on the cracked wall nearest you, you took a breather, closing your eyes as you tried to get your energy back up again. 

“Just a little bit more. Don’t give up yet.” 

Forcing your aching feet to move, you headed tiredly towards the stairs. Once you reached them, you walked up to the landing, turning left to continue climbing forward when you noticed something. 

“You have got to be kidding me?!”

A disbelieving look crossed your face. In front of you was a dilemma that nearly made you scream in frustration. The only way to the upper floor was barricaded with chairs and tables, furniture piled up haphazardly along the second set of stairs as if to ensure no one could get by it. It effectively put a stop to your plans. 

Maybe you could climb over the obstruction? No, you couldn’t risk something falling out of place and crushing you with its weight, causing you harm in the end. You thought about using the railing to skip past the hurdle of furniture, but hearing the creak of the brittle handrail when you held it had you rethinking that idea. Placing your hands on your hips, you tried thinking of how to get past this obstacle. Maybe taking it apart little by little would help?

Seeing as you had no choice, you started dismantling the barricade one chair at a time. The tables were too heavy and had your arms shaking from the effort of pulling them so you left them for last. Once you piled up enough chairs to give you room to move one of the tables, you shook your hands to prepare them to take the brunt of the weight. 

While you were busy with this task, you didn’t know you damned yourself.

What you didn’t know was when you squeezed through the gap of the entrance, your sweater caught on an edge and tore a strip of the pink cloth. You didn’t know it was like a beacon, its vibrant color contrasting from the dull and bleak setting of the school. You didn’t know he held it in his bloodied hand, bringing it to his hidden face as if to smell you. You didn’t see the shudder that went through him. You also didn't see him bursting through the shackled entrance of the school, breaking the chain to pieces as the steel doors lay bent beneath his foot.

However, you did feel the building shake following a loud crash. 

Startled at the muffled explosion, you released the legs of the table you were holding, crouching as you looked around wildly. The echoed sounds of doors being forced open could then be heard even from a distance. Lockers were slammed and torn off the walls, the clash of metal producing an awful screeching sound that resonated across the empty building.

What?! What was that?! You panicked internally, palms sweating as you hid behind the railing. What could’ve made that thunderous sound? Was it him?! It couldn’t be, could it? Trembling with fear, you realized you were a sitting duck. You couldn't go back the way you came or you’ll risk facing what caused that loud commotion.

When you heard a familiar growl, you couldn’t stop the tiny sob escaping your lips. It was HIM! When his steps edged closer to your location, your eyes wandered desperately around your cornered space and spotted a clothed table at the bottom of the stairs. Running down the stairs, you all but crawled beneath the table, tucking your feet in as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. You didn’t have any other option. The cloth provided you with enough cover to pull off not being seen and you could only pray you weren't found.

Eyes wide with fear, you held your breath when he turned the corner, the floor trembling with every heavy step of his boots. You could also hear the scrape of the giant sword he dragged with him, the shrill sound hurting your ears. You nearly bolted when you heard the locker doors being opened one by one before getting slammed shut.

Oh God, please, don't let him find me. Please, please, please. You shut your eyes tightly, clasping your hands against your mouth as you tried to keep as quiet as you could. The corner of your eyes teared up, a lump in your throat wanting to give way to sobs of distress the closer he got.

~

His trudging steps slowed as he surveyed the area. 

Pyramid Head tilted his head curiously, his helmet creaking with the action. He didn’t know where you hid but he could sense you near. When he pressed that piece of fabric to his helmed head, your intoxicating aroma set his nerves of fire, twisting his mind into a lustful haze–the urge to pillage and kill you getting stronger by the minute. 

When he heard that soft gasp earlier in the alley, he was stunned by your feminine form mere meters away from him. You were a small thing compared to him, the top of your head not even reaching his chest. Whatever surprise he felt was momentary, desire quickly flooding his veins as he drank in your lovely shape. How long since a pretty thing like you entered this infernal domain? How easy would it be to subdue you and make you a slave to his lust? What sounds could he coax from those wet lips of yours? His member twitched to life beneath his withered skirt, the thought of possessing you clouding his mind with lascivious images of your naked body beneath him.

When he took a step towards you, you ran like a frightened lamb.

Watching you turn around to flee– the distance growing between you with every passing second– Pyramid Head gripped his weapon tightly, anger consuming him as he followed right after you. 

As if he would allow you to escape him. 

He would take you. Tarnish that soft flesh and desecrate your soul until you were nothing but a bloody heap beneath him. 

He just needed to catch you first. 

Opening the lockers one by one, he couldn’t suppress his frustrated grumbles when you weren’t there. Where were you? He shifted his attention to the familiar clutter of furniture on the staircase, noting how neatly some chairs were piled in a corner–knowing that the times he’s ventured here, the chairs were never tampered in such a way. 

Realizing how close he must be to capturing you, he started up the stairs, dropping his weapon without a care as he tore down the barricade in a frenzy to find you. 

When his search proved fruitless, the veins in his arms and neck became more prominent from his fury. WHERE WERE YOU? Blind with rage, he smashed his fists against the broken furniture and the rotting walls, tearing everything in his wake as he roared loud enough to make his helmet vibrate violently from the sound. It hurt enough to cause him to rupture something and bleed, trails of blood dripping down his neck to mix with the blood of his other victims.

As he stood breathing heavily on the landing of the stairs, trying to shake off the cloud of anger consuming him, a faint creak was heard downstairs. He twisted his body to look behind him, crazily observing the area where he heard it from. 

There was a lone table. The once white cloth adorning it was an ugly shade of brown, time not being kind to as it had torn holes ruining it. He could care less about the useless piece of cloth. What had his undivided attention was the dainty fingers that could be seen poking out beneath it. 

There was a moment of silence before he charged down the stairs. 

Gripping the sides of the table, he flung it across the hall, old wood shattering to pieces when it smacked against the railing of the stairs. He paid little mind to the destruction he created, his focus landing entirely on your meek figure below him. A look of horror crossed your face, mouth open in shock as you stared up at him. A rumble of contentment echoed within his helmet having finally found his prize, quickly dropping down to his knees to grab you and pin you between his legs.

It didn’t take much to overpower you, Pyramid Head sitting on your thighs to lessen your squirming. Bunching the pink fabric in his hands, he tore your sweater apart like paper, your startled scream doing little to deter him. His bloodied hands groped the exposed flesh hungrily, smudging your torso with the red substance as you shrieked in disgust. The way the softness of your tummy gave under his firm hands had him addicted. He loved how weak and pliant your flesh was.

Your mounds were a sight too, spilling off the cups of the small band around your chest. He tore that off easily too, your bust jiggling from the action and making him groan at the sight. Much to his pleasure, he saw your skin pebble with goosebumps, the cool air of the room turning your nipples into tight buds.

His hands moved, thick fingers stroking over your breasts to test the doughy texture. You gasped, arching from the pressure, unknowingly pushing your chest against his palms. Much to your chagrin, the rough pads of his fingers sent a fire bolt careening from your nipples and through your quivering belly to ignite heat into your core. You bit your lip, ignoring the sensation as you tried shoving his hands away with your feeble strength. When he tugged harshly on the tips of your breasts, you let out a pained whine, the kittenish sound sending a shock of pleasure down his spine. He wished to tear you apart, bathe in your essence as he drank up your tortured cries.

He was reluctant to pull his hands away from you, your body smeared in a beautiful canvas of blood, but his need to fully claim you could not be denied.  Pyramid Head removed his hands from your breasts with a final rough squeeze, shifting one to rub his erection to alleviate some of his need, while the other hand trailed down to caress your clothed hip possessively.

He was bewitched by you, reverently stroking your skin with bloodied hands to dirty your purity. Shielding your breasts from his view, you were a vision with your head turned to the side, choking on a sob as you realized that despite how your mind protested his brutish touches, your body betrayed you when slickness dripped between your thighs.

At war with yourself, you didn't pay attention when his attention turned to the last article of clothing preserving your modesty.

Easing up on his weight, he shifted his body down to tug at your black jeans. When the tight fabric stuck around your hips, he grew irritated at the minor inconvenience. Before you could voice out a protest, he roughly flipped you over onto your stomach, shock coursing through you when he tore the denim to shreds at your sides, dragging the rest of it down your legs and taking your panties and shoes with them.

You could feel the heat in your face at the state of your nudity. He caressed your ass then– forcing an undignified yelp from you at the offensive touch– squeezing the globes on either palm, his nails digging into the fat hard enough to leave lasting bruises on your unblemished skin. 

"N-no! You're hurting me!" 

You hissed between your teeth, sharp aches blossoming from where his fingers pressed on your ass. You shivered with disgust when the blood on his hands dirtied your globes, matching it with the mess of your front.

Brushing a calloused finger along your vulva, he was met with the heat of your pussy. It had your body jerking to attention, the blood draining from your face in an instant. When he tried to insert the bloody finger inside you, you shook erratically, your hands scrambling for purchase on the floor to get away from him. 

Tired of your antics, he twisted you to your back, uncaring of the yelp that left you when the back of your head hit the floor with a loud thud. Holding you down with one hand around your neck, he nearly choked you as he began pulling impatiently at the fastenings of his long skirt to jerk himself free with his other. His body shook with excitement, enticed by your naked flesh even as you begged sweetly under him. 

He paid little mind to your frantic scratching on his arm, the pain miniscule when compared to the hard throbbing of his cock— the twitching member pulsating so strongly that it had his mind blazing from the painful pressure, a groan of distress escaping him the longer it was kept confined. Pain that would only be soothed once he was encompassed by the tight walls of your pussy. 

~

The state of your mind went into a panic when you saw it. What lay between those muscled thighs was a monstrosity. It would bring you nothing but pure anguish and misery, the way it could barely spring upward with its heavy weight. Accompanied by an equally heavy set of balls and prominent veins lining the length of it– it was more of an instrument of pain than that of pleasure, meant to punish and brutalize those that fell victim to it. 

A whimper left you before you started thrashing in earnest, clawing away at his arm to get away from that. 

"LET GO OF ME! NO! Y-YOU CAN'T-!" 

You didn't care that he could snap your neck in a second, didn't care that he could rip you limb from limb or crush your head with his bare hands. Those were much better options than the alternative he was hellbent on pursuing. 

What the hell?! How can he be that bi-!!? Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt monstrous hands grip your knees and pull them apart savagely, screaming at the painful ache in your pelvis following the rough motion. He knelt between your spread legs, his large thighs forcing you open and leaving you unable to close your legs.

"W-wait! Wait! Think about what you're doing, please?! It's not possi-?!" 

The blunt head of his cock tapped your entrance, the pearl of precum mixing with your wetness as he tried to nudge his way in. His size proved too much for your smaller frame, his dick sliding up your vulva in a failed attempt to penetrate you. The insistent push of his hips had you holding your breath, body freezing in place when the head of his cock threatened to breach your cunt only to slide along your labia once more. 

The rough motion had you panting, the repeated nudging on your clit causing your pelvis to twitch from the erotic stimulation. You couldn’t stop your body’s reaction to him, a pulsating heat shimmering beneath your skin. Taking a glance down, you shuddered at the sight of his cock sandwiched between your spread lips. It had your feminine channel burning for him despite your fear of him. Shame accompanied your arousal as you felt more of your natural fluids coating the underside of his dick and flowing down your ass in rivulets.

While you lay gasping at the dizzying sensation, you were ignorant to his growing agitation when he missed his mark again. He raised your hips higher, giving himself a better view of your leaking hole before grabbing his wet shaft with one hand and lining himself up once more. This time he was determined to properly defile you.

Your eyes fluttered open when he adjusted you, looking up at him in confusion as you tried to clear your mind. The momentary pleasure he had given you was obliterated in a second when you felt the press of his cock head stab its first inch inside your dripping pussy. 

Like a bucket of cold water hitting your face, you shrieked when the reality of your situation set in. Flinching from his touch, you tried twisting your hips away from him hoping to dislodge the stiff cock from its journey inside you. 

"No! You won't fit!"

Bucking your hips uselessly, you failed to realize that your swirling hips moved pleasantly around the tip, a dribble of cum shooting out of his cock to coat your insides– making you gasp when you felt it and him shudder strongly at the feel of your sweet cunt. Seeing how you were so lubricated for him, he repositioned himself above you, bracing a foot on the floor while keeping the other leg bent at the knee. Grabbing the back of your knees, he pushed them forward near your head, effectively placing you in a mating press of sorts.

Not giving you any time to protest, he thrusted half of himself in one diligent push.

You yelped at the sudden pain, eyes nearly popping out of your face as you felt your pussy stretch beyond its limit. Glimmer of tears rushed to your eyes, the pain making your mouth wobble as he pulled away– the drag of his cock against your inner walls nearly causing you to faint– only to cry out when he thrusted back in with more force. More of his cock violated your sore insides, rendering you a screaming mess as he continued to plunder your wrecked form. Too scared to look at the damage between your legs, you pushed against his firm stomach, pleading for him to stop or he'll kill you. 

A sharp jab into your swollen flesh had you crying out, arching your back as tears trailed down your face. No manner of preparation could’ve made his passage bearable, the stark difference between his gargantuan size and your regular size evident as you struggled to accommodate him.

He took you like a brute. Not caring about your distressed wails.

It hurt.

Maybe the pain was making you delirious, but beneath the agony, there was a thread of pleasure seeping through the cracks. You refused to believe it, the thought of your body betraying you in such a way nearly crumbling you.

…

…

 Then why were your hips moving timidly alongside his?

~

His hands bit into your sides, Pyramid Head lifting your lower body off the floor to smack against him, driving the rest of his cock inside your spasming pussy with a low groan.

It was a tight fit. 

Once the entirety of his throbbing cock was seathed inside your warm heat, he took the time to glance down at you. You were a sweaty mess of blood and tears, pained gasps emerging from your trembling lips as your body twitched uncontrollably from his claiming of you. Your entrance was stretched taut around his engorged cock, the blood smeared on your pelvis making him wonder if it was yours or from him. 

He was immune to your choked sobs, not feeling the least bit remorseful of his violent taking of you. Rather, he was pleased you survived. Many didn’t make it past this stage, but you proved to be a pleasant surprise. 

The snug walls of your cunt suddenly clenched around his dick, nearly making him cum on the spot. 

He pulled his hips back, hissing when your walls clamped down on him, making the task difficult before driving forward with purpose. Before long, your soaked entrance made his movements easier, his dick sliding much faster inside your straining pussy. Pained cries turned into soft mewls, your hips eventually moving in tandem with his with every brush of your clit. 

He paused midthrust to stare at the bulge in your tummy in fascination. It was a ghastly sight– the way your lower belly distended from his cock penetrating you. He pressed on the bump in an inquisitive manner, jolting in shock when your channel clenched around him erratically, a stream of fluid splashing on his lower belly following your loud shriek. 

The shock was momentary, Pyramid Head rubbing your secretion between his fingers to play with the strings. Bringing them beneath the helm of his helmet, he was overtaken with the smell of your lust. Even though you couldn’t meet his gaze, you could feel him staring at you in a hungry manner. He gave you little time to be embarrassed, hunching over you to place your legs above his elbows, spreading you further and spearing into you with brutal thrusts.

He couldn't stop the rapid succession of thrusts, driving into you faster and faster as his release built up with every plunge inside you.

~

You twisted helplessly, opening your mouth to voice out your pleasure as fire spread throughout your body. His fierce pace had you writhing wildly beneath him, shaking your head at the growing tension in your stomach– signaling another approaching orgasm. You didn’t want him to stop. Your womb clenched with every harsh jab of his monstrous dick against it, the pressure escalating with every second of your ruin.

“O-oh! Please, please, please–!!” You sobbed, not knowing if you wanted him to stop his rough onslaught on your poor body or begging for more as his hips collided violently between the juncture of your thighs. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed along the hall, your passionate cries and his low groans forever imprinted on your mind. Your legs grew tired, falling lax on either side of him, unable to keep up with his vigorous pace. 

He used you like nothing more than a cocksleeve, molding the shape of his cock in your tight pussy, his sac slapping lewdly against your ass.

It became too much. 

Your mind went blank when the knot in your belly finally snapped, letting out a scream of completion when intense heat spread throughout your shaking body. Your vaginal walls gripped him tightly, trying to milk him for all his worth, the sudden tightness forcing a growl to emerge from him. Tears escaped you, the painful pleasure driving you mad in his embrace.

White lights danced behind your eyelids, your orgasm turning you into a puddled mess of ecstasy even as he continued to ravage you.

The last thing you felt before closing your eyes in exhaustion was a scorching heat filling your insides, calloused fingers rubbing the bump in your tummy in wonder.

❣️🖤❣️Thank you for reading~! ❣️🖤❣️

I got another treat for my dear followers! You gotta know I'm posting NSFW Art to go with my fics as well~ (*^ ‿ <*)♡

🎃Happy Halloween, you guys! Stay safe out there!🎃

Full NSFW Art here ---> (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Pyramid Head! Ghost

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Dubious Consent, Stomach Bulging, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, Manhandling, Kidnapping, Punishment, Possessive! Ghost, Dark! Ghost, Implied Female Reader, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Pyramid Head! Ghost finds you wandering around Silent Hill, desperately searching for an exit. 

You’re the first proper, living thing he’s come across in a long time, so he decides to take you for himself.

Pyramid Head! Ghost plucks you from where you stand and throws you over his shoulder like a rag doll.

You don’t fight him, unsure of his intentions with you. He didn’t attack you on sight like all the other monsters did, but when you hear the way he growls at you, feel the way he grips you with his thick fingers pressing between your legs, you’re certain they aren’t pure.

Pyramid Head! Ghost keeps you in a building he knows to be clear of monsters, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe. On the contrary, when you realise what he intends to do with you, you wish you were still outside fighting for your life.

Pyramid Head! Ghost has a nigh-insatiable sex drive – something you discover when he comes to you, lumbering with the weight of his erect cock and engorged ballsack, and takes you in his hand like the doll you are.

Pyramid Head! Ghost uses you as his own cum rag, abusing your body by furiously rubbing you along the length of his shaft until you’re slick and coated in pre, shortly followed by thick ropes of semen that stain your clothes and leave you wet in places you’d rather not think about.

He likes to think of it as marking his territory. Of letting all the other monsters know that you’re his.

Pyramid Head! Ghost has, of course, attempted to use you as a fuck doll, too, though he’s only ever managed to force little more than his bulbous, leaking tip inside you, both you and your body crying out for him to stop when you feel him filling you, telling him you can’t take any more. And he’d have ignored your pleas were it not for the fact he can actually see himself bulging within you, your body choking around him as you sob and beg for him to pull out.

Despite how barbaric he is, Pyramid Head! Ghost doesn’t intend on breaking you. Not just yet, anyway.

You’re no use to him dead, so he leaves you intact for now, instead lodging what little of himself your body can take and stroking his length until he cums, hard and deep, inside you.

His load is hot – uncomfortably so – and so unimaginably heavy that it leaves you limping and leaking for days afterwards.

Pyramid Head! Ghost never lets you wear pants or underwear when he’s done with you. He enjoys the sight of his seed leaking out of you and the bump in your stomach too much.

Pyramid Head! Ghost especially enjoys making you lay before him and spreading your legs so he can see you dripping, a puddle forming between your legs. He’ll push down on your bump, too, feeling his cock twitch when you yelp, his cum squirting out of you and leaving a spray of white translucence across the floor.

You weren’t his first outlet in Silent Hill, but you are his favourite. Hence, he never lets you take a break, using you almost daily to satiate the throbbing between his legs, the primal urge to breed.

More often than not, after making thorough use of you, Ghost has caught you holding your swollen stomach, your skin tender and stretched, as you moan in discomfort.

Pyramid Head! Ghost wonders, briefly, what it would be like to give you one permanently. To embed within you his offspring – something aside from you that he can call his own in this barren wasteland.

The idea becomes something of a fantasy for Pyramid Head! Ghost, and, when you’re secured inside your makeshift home with no hope of escape, he goes out and finds baby clothes, bringing them back to you as if to show them off. To make his intentions with you clear.

The only way you’re avoiding this fate is if you’re incapable of bearing children. Otherwise, Pyramid Head! Ghost absolutely rawdogs you until the viscous ropes of semen he’s pumped into you takes, leaving you weeping and sweaty and his from the inside.

He picks you up and literally holds you upside down afterwards, leaving no way for you to escape your destiny with him whilst doing everything in his power to ensure your pregnancy.

You can feel his semen gushing out of you even then, trickling from between your legs up your abdomen, your chest. Milk tears when they reach your face.

Pyramid Head! Ghost does nothing less than coo over you once you begin to show, not letting you walk anywhere, bringing you maternity clothes, destroying any and all monsters that dare to come near you.

He holds you against his chest, too, letting you use him as your bed on cold nights, and cradles you in his arms. Stares with what could be adoration down at your swelling tummy.

He can’t deny how his chest tightens when he hears you sobbing, though, the sheer weight and size of his child inside you causing you nothing but pain as Pyramid Head! Ghost uses you as his incubator. He hadn’t accounted for the fact that perhaps your fragile human body would struggle bearing the offspring of something as massive as himself.

Pyramid Head! Ghost does what he can to alleviate the pain, oftentimes with him letting you ride his shaft until you’re satisfied or groping the area between your legs until you cum, your orgasm a momentary distraction from your eternity with him.

Pyramid Head! Ghost will never let you go. Especially once you’re with his child. And he can’t imagine just stopping at one, either.

Pyramid Head! Ghost won’t stop until this town is rebuilt in the image of your family – everything he could never have when he was alive.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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[cleolinda]

I am really impressed that people are mostly voting for “easy,” because I truly thought everyone would be like TO BE REAL GAMER YOU MUST CHALLENGE YOURSELF. Not that the “standard” voters think that; I was tempted by the Sense of Pride and Accomplishment, and “Start on standard and see how it goes” is a good compromise. I think I just feel bad that I’m going in knowing so much strategy about this game after watching professional streamers get their asses beat into the ground by leg monsters.

I love mobile games, but I have never played a Real-Ass Video Game before, not even as a kid. Later this week, I’m gonna bite off way more than I can chew and scream the whole way through it. I’m setting puzzles on standard. What level should I set the combat to?

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Sea Monster x Reader

In the spirit of Mermay, I come to you with a slightly different approach: an octopus hybrid, dwelling in the dark depths of ancient waters. :) Hopefully close enough to the sea monster you imagined, @wally0117

Content: gender neutral reader, male yandere, monster romance, reader likes sharks (a lot); inspired by The Shape of Water and My Octopus Teacher; photo from Whalebone Magazine

He’s always been aware of humans, naturally. Observed them from the beginnings of time, from the very first rudimentary attempt of a boat that crossed his waters. Though he can only guess how these creatures exist, how they breathe, how they move. What arrives in his depths is always a corpse of some sort. Bloated, decaying carcasses, rarely intact, whether chipped by fish or by time. Everything else is left to his imagination.

Until today. The fish are restless, the currents are stronger. Something must be happening above, stringing him along curiously. His many legs sway in tandem, opening and closing, as he investigates the source of interest. His pale white eyes narrow to a mere squint, unused to the light of the surface levels. At last, he finds it: a human.

Yet this one is unusual. Intact - save for the bleeding wound - and unlike the washed-out, cadaveric blue tint he’s normally accustomed to. He notices a twitch of the limb and it dawns on him: this one is still alive.

You wake up with a violent cough, thrusting out the leftover liquid that had invaded your lungs earlier. You clearly remember drowning, so how did you end up on shore again? The answer reveals itself rather quickly: a monstrous creature, albeit humanoid for the most part. The upper half resembles a man, but the torso ends in thick, enormous tentacles, now flopped onto the sand, surrounding your body. You search for the creature’s face, framed by translucent tendrils that seem to replace what you’d expect as hair.

“Thank you”. He scans your features and remains silent. Does he even understand human speech? After a moment of consideration, he looks ahead, surveying the water, then returns to you, giving you a nudge. He most likely wants to know how you ended up in that situation to begin with. “That’s, well…”

Conveniently enough, the monster has brought you back to your little camp, so you reach for your backpack and pull out a book. Of course, no words can ever replace the image itself. With renewed enthusiasm, you open your encyclopedia and turn it towards the man, showing him a photo of a sand tiger shark, tapping on it excitedly. “I was looking for sharks!”

Ever since the bizarre, life-saving encounter, you’ve been returning to the same spot most days. And without exception, the monster will be waiting for you in one of the neighboring caves. Judging by the pellucid, pale skin and his reluctance to be in the light, you guessed early on that he might be a creature of the depths.

One that has been around for a long time, it seems. Once he understood your interest in sharks and other aquatic animals, he developed a liking to play guide for you, silently touring you through forests of kelp, hidden caves, labyrinths of reefs and hills. He knows where the animals linger, and they don't scurry away when you approach. You've never dreamed of being so close to them, staring into their eyes and tracing their fins as they swim past you, unbothered and relaxed. The monster will gaze at you from a distance, amused by your passion.

On ground, you’ve begun your own little experiment: can the octopus creature learn sign language? You didn’t need long to discover how intelligent he is, mimicking your gestures with flawless ease, instantly memorizing the meanings, the connections, the implications. He seems to be terribly delighted by this newfound tool of communication, often asking you questions with earnest curiosity.

Ah, yes, the questions. It makes sense that he’d want to know more about humans, though his interrogations are rather…particular. Specific. It’s less about humans as a whole, and more about you. How long have you been swimming here? How deep can you actually swim, with or without aid? Might you have a family waiting for you back home? A mate, perchance? No? Interesting.

"My vacation will end soon", you sign with pursed lips. He tilts his head. "Leaving?" his webbed hands gesture, somewhat uneasy. You nod. You can discern a glint of melancholy in his eyes. Eventually, he resumes: "Would you like to see my home?" Your eyebrows raise in surprise. His home? Down there? Was such a thing even achievable for a human like you?

The plump suckers attach themselves to your skin, one resting over your mouth. "Do you trust me?" You cast one final glance over the underwater abyss, a black hole trapping all light and matter. You shake your head in approval. Without hesitation, he plunges over the cliff, pulling you after him and into the yawning void of darkness. His form glows eerily, and his movement is swift and elegant. You can tell this is his land, his territory. You would've been dead a long time ago.

He releases you on the wet stone, inside the air pocket of a cave. You need a few moments to overcome the wave of claustrophobia pressing against your lungs. As you catch your breath, you recall your long path from the surface. It would be impossible to make it back out again without your friend. A cold shiver runs across your spine. "Have a break, and I'll show you everything else afterwards", he gestures with a smile. "How long will it take? I don't want to walk back at night", you explain.

Silence. You stare into his empty orbs, awaiting a reaction. There's not a sound, not a gust of wind, not a shred of light. "You're not going back", he finally answers.

You see, he's done a fair amount of research himself. He doesn't need an encyclopedia to figure you out: how you breathe, how you move, how you exist. In fact, he is rather confident in his ways of helping you adapt to a life spent together. He would've never brought you down here if he wasn't certain of your survival. His grin widens in anticipation, a strange warmth enveloping his innards at the mere thought of it: a future with you in it, right here. However, one question remains, a cheeky, perverted detail that has been on his mind from the moment he met you, yet he could never investigate it properly.

How do humans mate?

[multific]

Home

Pyramid Head x Reader

A/N: My first Pyramid Head fic! Hope you enjoy and let me know if you want more!

He was mad. The one thing, the most important one was missing.

He arrived back and put his sword to the side when he noticed. His little Angel, his everything was gone.

You were gone and he couldn't find you.

He was mad, beyond mad, he was ready to burn Silent Hill down, again, just to find you.

He had an idea who took you. He had a very good idea who took you and he will set fire to the rain to get you back.

He marched back out with his sword in hand, his heavy steps echoed through the entire building which you called home. 

You on the other end were thrown into a room, well it was more like a cell. They tried to torture you for information.

They didn't know where you came from or who you were, but you didn't say a word. They didn't need to know that you lived with the mightiest beast of them all. 

He loved you and you loved him, it was a simple relationship. Even if he didn't talk, you understood him perfectly.

You still remember when you first saw him how scared you were, you surely thought this will be the end for you, you accidentally stumbled across the town and were thrown into this hell of monsters.

You assumed these people didn't know what you meant to Pyramid Head, but they will find out real soon. 

You weren't even there for more than a day, yet they took you out almost hourly to ask you the same stupid questions.

"How did you get here?"

"Is there a way out?"

"HOW DO WE GET OUT OF HERE, BITCH?!"

Always the same stupid questions, but no matter how many times they hit you, you never answered. You could tell they were new, their hiding place was so obvious.

You didn't even tell them your name when they asked.

They didn't deserve to know.

Then you heard the steps, they threw you out, hoping for the beast to claim your soul but all of them watched in awe when you ran into his arms.

Upon seeing your injuries, especially the ones around your wrists, he saw red.

You didn't watch. You only walked away back to the hotel you called home.

But you still heard their screams as you walked away.

You arrived home, Pyramid closely followed you as you watched him sit down on your bed, his size making the bed bend as he patted his leg. Knowing what it meant you headed to sit down in your usual place.

"I was home when they got me. I didn't leave, I think they saw me through the window."

You felt his arms tighten around you.

You were scared but you also knew that he was going to save you, it was only a matter of time. 

He lifted his other hand and ran his thumb over your injured wrist.

"It doesn't hurt as much as you would think." you said, trying to reassure him.

He slowly nodded.

You moved slightly so your head can rest on his shoulder, trying to slowly relax and get some sleep.

He held you so close and secure you fell asleep almost instantly.

To others, this place was hell, filled with monsters, but to you, it was home. 

A home where your love was.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie​ @noname2246​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[saklasnabal]

Samarie, Lolita?

Yeah, this art is based on my hunch about Samarie being the Uterus doll again. 

Originally, this was just supposed to be a drawing of Samarie as the album cover of “In Utero”, but then I decided to put up my other ideas that I left before:

I did yap about Samarie being a Uterus doll, but I didn’t yap much about Funger’s sun god Amon and Valteil.

(This was just drawn because I felt like it.)

Samarie’s moonscorched form, "Dysmorphia", bears striking similarities to the Uterus Doll:

No left eye.

A four-fingered right hand and a plain left hand.

Right leg dominant over left.

Are depicted as pregnant.

This shared feature of pregnancy ties directly to the phobia they evoke: teratophobia, the "fear of monsters and fear of bearing a malformed child." This phobia perfectly suits the Uterus dolls, who give birth to malformed offspring, making it a fitting fear for them to embody. Samarie, as “Dysmorphia”, summons ghouls, which are notably “malformed.” These ghouls align with the concept of “malformed child” as they are creations of “Dysmorphia”. So the game acknowledges the actual second meaning of Teratophobia “the fear of bearing a malformed child”, through the Uterus Doll being explicit, but for Samarie it is subtle (I say subtle, but I don't think it is too subtle because, when paying attention to Samarie's moonscorched form, both her arms are rigid and her legs are slender, and there's no sign of plumpness. Her belly is noticeably strained and stretched out, which made me suspect that she was pregnant for a long time. However, I just couldn't find the right words to express my suspicion clearly). Continuing on further, the game avoids fully defining teratophobia, only reducing it to “fear of monsters and malformations”. So, methinks, it is to obscure information, specifically may include details about Samarie, by subtly implying that Samarie’s dysmorphia stems from “malformations”, it leads players to interpret her dysmorphia as simply resulting from perceived bodily inadequacies. When in actuality, Samarie’s dysmorphia may have been rooted in complete defilement leading to a fear of birthing a malformed child. Specifically why she's pregnant, has to do with Valteil. 

First, let's address Amon, the so-called sun god. In truth, Amon isn't actually the sun god; in Egyptian mythology, he's known as the "hidden god" because he represents abstract concepts related to air, he is “being everywhere but unseen”. Ra on the other hand was The Sun God, known as "The Self-Created One", Ra was seen as the supreme creator and a powerful force associated with rebirth and incarnation. He was believed to have emerged from the primordial waters of chaos, creating himself and the cosmos through his will alone. Amon only became the sun god when he merged with Ra, they represented both the visible and invisible aspects of existence, A Supreme being. 

The Sun God Amon in Funger is shrouded in mystery, reflecting Amon's symbolic association with the hidden and the unknown. This mirrors the enigmatic Sun God in Silent Hill, often referred to as "Her". In Silent Hill, young girls were abducted by The Order to serve as vessels, in attempts to impregnate them with the Sun God. Similarly, Samarie, who appears as a fully developed version of the Uterus doll, is kept in the Ninth Circle, it may represent a comparable fate for the naturally gifted children. This explains why the Uterus dolls are called as they are, because much like in Silent Hill, these children became wombs.

Alessa Gillespie, later known as Heather Mason, became the vessel for the Sun God after her mother, Dahlia, used her as a surrogate to bring the deity into existence. Throughout Heather Mason's journey, the Halo of the Sun frequently appears. This crest, associated with the religious organization, symbolizes "resurrection" and the "cycle of rebirth". Given that Samarie is the fully developed version of the Uterus doll and is still alive by Marina's Ending B, it suggests that the pregnant bellies of the Uterus dolls were not merely a result of Valteil's perversion but rather part of his study of the cycle of rebirth itself, connecting it to the Sun God. In other words, Valteil was creating beings with extremely short lifespans that could literally rebirth themselves, emulating Ra's ability to rise again after dying each day and his quality as a self-created deity. Samarie’s masturbation ability could indeed be tied to the Sun God's creative power. Some myths suggest that the Sun God, as Atum, created himself through an act of masturbation, with the hand he used symbolizing the female principle inherent within him. Butttt, this could have been placed by Valteil to exploit, much like how in Lolita, Humbert agreed to marry Charlotte Haze to exploit his position as Dolores’ stepfather for his own sexual obsession. Valteil despised the notion of his creations outliving him, maybe it's because he wouldn’t remain in control of his creation indefinitely?  Since Valteil is based on Valtiel, of courseeee, it was barely spelled like an offbrand Adidas, anyways Valtiel was responsible for Heather Mason’s cycle of rebirth. This is symbolized by his act of turning a valve, a gesture that represents the cycle of rebirth, Valtiel appears to have little concern for Heather herself, focusing instead on the god that slumbers within her. However, unlike Valtiel, Valteil seems to exploit the the Sun God for his own purposes. The Uterus Dolls maybe akin to "nymphets" (a term that Humbert uses to justify his attraction to children, “nymphet” means: a sexually precocious girl barely in her teens, also a sexually attractive young woman), is something Valteil sought to perfect, eternal yet fleeting. A purely immortal being would escape his control, while a being that aged was a no-go. To maintain control over this concept, he had to create a being that was simultaneously mortal and immortal. Perhaps Samarie, much like Lolita, was an idea—a construct. It's worth noting that "Samarie" is an alternative name for Magdalene, as both names mean "towers" and refer to cities in Israel—Magdala and Samaria. The name Magdalene is a nickname for Mary as well, meaning "Mary of Magdala", in this way, Samarie can also be seen as a nickname for Mary, tying her to a comparison with Dolores Haze, "Samarie" serves as a nickname for "Mary" just as "Lolita" serves as a nickname for "Dolores". Furthermore, both Dolores and Magdalene are unfairly viewed as sexual figures when, in reality, they are not. Continuing, to retain control over this idea, Valteil forced a child into the role of “Samarie”, by dehumanizing the child into a living object. This child would live briefly and then rebirth upon death, ensuring the torment allowed Valteil to remain in absolute control. As Humbert himself said, "What I had madly possessed was not she, but my own creation, another, fanciful Lolita—perhaps more real than Lolita; overlapping, encasing her; floating between me and her, and having no will, no consciousness—indeed, no life of her own."

Samarie's Radiant Soul is deeply tied to her connection with the Sun God, who sustains her existence as a consequence of Valteil’s actions. Her body, symbolically aligned with Ra, positions her as an ideal vessel for Amon, much like Alessa Gillespie’s role in her story, Samarie is "The Mother of God". The events of Termina may be part of a carefully orchestrated ritual designed to merge Samarie with Amon. Thus, Samarie’s presence in Termina is not truly for Marina; her purpose is bound to Amon's birth.

Adding to the idea that Samarie wasn’t truly there for Marina, maybe the only reason Samarie follows Marina, is that Marina might be Valteil’s descendant?

The only similarity I can compare is their facial appearance, so I decided to draw Valteil from a frontal perspective, rather than viewing him from a top-down angle with his head tilted upward in   the official art. This perspective makes them look a little similar. Perhaps, Samarie’s obsession with Marina is less about love and more of a triggered fear response from Marina’s appearance, because it reminds Samarie of Valteil, so she feels the need to appease. To cope with this fear, Samarie interprets her actions as love, avoiding the uncomfortable truth behind her behavior. 

Marina might be dealing with Samarie because the "Humbert Humbert" in her family tree, Valteil, set off a chain of events whose consequences have spiraled out of control over time, ultimately falling on Marina to address. Methinks, this is a family matter: the problem originated with Valteil, the ancestor, and was perpetuated through his bloodline as subsequent generations continued to stoke the flames he first ignited. As a result, everyone in the lineage is burdened by the sins of the family (It makes me wonder if Marina’s father was the one responsible for sequestering children to the ninth circle. I mean, the logic is so simple: where would the Vatican easily collect children? The orphanage, of course. People wouldn’t bat an eye trying to track down missing kids because, hey, they’re orphans—no family, no one looking for them). Following that narrative, Samarie barely possesses any autonomy in her life, her feelings for Marina aren’t genuinely her own but stem from a deeply conditioned fear of Valteil (It's as if Samarie had to read Valteil's mind to figure out what he wanted, paying extreme attention to his desires to avoid being hurt even worse. Now, she's applying that same behavior to Marina, because every time she looks at her, she sees Valteil). Valteil completely altered her body with a very specific appearance, meaning the name, "Samarie," isn’t even her name, it's from the person she was specifically altered to. This forms the core of her dysmorphia—she feels disgusted by an identity she never chose yet has no choice but to live with. Due to being forcefully granted the ability to rebirth herself upon death, it forces her to back to the form she bitterly hates. She is, in essence, her own malformed child, forced to bear in her swollen belly the identity imposed upon her—a reality she deeply despises. Thus, she is “Dysmorphia”. 

 Methinks again—MEEEETHINKS AGAIN! In Samarie’s narrative, she plays two roles: one is “Lolita,” and the other is “Dolly” For the first, “Lolita” is the loud one, the one that is always heard in the room—she is the delusion. Suppressed under the screaming of “Lolita” is the lady of sorrow, “Dolly,” who I believe speaks this line: 'If I were to die the same day as her… There's something poetic about it… It will be alright.' Initially, this reinforces the perception that she is obsessed with Marina, willing to die on the same day as her. However, a subversion emerges when Samarie says these words directly to Marina. Beneath that distorted framing, “Dolly” still exists—a broken, exhausted individual simply longing for an end to her suffering. Perhaps her ultimate desire is to die in peace with the identity of “Samarie,” the person she was forced to live as. Then, the narrative switches back to “Lolita”: 'You must know it too, Marina! But don't worry. We will die together.' This makes her obsession with Marina feel inconsistent. It feels like Samarie recognizes her slip—the brief emergence of "Dolly"—and quickly reverts to “Lolita”. 

The words above this, makes me think back to the nature of Samarie killing Father Domek. Perhaps she killed him because he reminded her of the one who abused her, Valteil? I did mention that Marina's battlesprite is based on Claudia Wolf, and it seems to me that Marina herself is based on Claudia Wolf, particularly in the way they both think about their fathers. Both utterly hate their fathers, yet they become upset upon their deaths. Claudia Wolf’s father, Leonard Wolf, and Father Domek also behave in a similar way. They both demean their daughters at first but soften their tone when they sense something is going wrong with them. Leonard Wolf’s statement, “She’s a fool, but she’s still my daughter,” perfectly summarizes how Father Domek acted. Additionally, Leonard Wolf was a massive religious fanatic, so Father Domek may share similar traits, this would explain a line from Marina’s backstory: “You had a suspicion that your father had something to do with this. He had always been too obsessed with blood magic, and you had learned that there were too many rites that demanded the blood of your loved ones to work.” Both Father Domek and Leonard Wolf are also antagonistic towards their daughters' pursuits, Leonard hates Claudia’s pursuit of Paradise, believing the non-believers are unworthy, and for Father Domek in this line: “Your father had always been antagonistic towards you and your pursuits.” The very reason Claudia deeply resented her father, Leonard, was due to his abuse—beating her and yelling at her whenever he believed she was being irreligious in his eyes, maybe Father Domek did the same to Marina, this would further add depth to this line from her backstory: “Just the idea of getting away from your condescending and stuck up father was enough to make the decision, not to mention the obvious benefits the Vatican City would have to offer.” 

GOINGGGGG BACK TO SAMARIE, SINCE ALLLLL THOSE WORDS ABOVE ABOUT MARINA SERVE TO CONTRIBUTE TO MY PONDERING—YES, PONDERING!—OF THE NATURE BEHIND SAMARIE’S MURDER OF MISTER DOMEK. PERHAPS, PERHAPS! THIS VERY DYSFUNCTIONAL RELATIONSHIP MARINA HAS WITH HER FATHER REMINDED SAMARIE OF VALTEIL AND HER?  Since Samarie couldn’t fight back against Valteil, she kills Father Domek who reminds her of Valteil to feel a sense of catharsis for her powerlessness. However, once she commits the act, there is no gratification. Instead, it intensifies her memories of her relationship with Valteil, particularly the isolation that forced her to become dependent on him. Samarie's statement that Father Domek was a vile man with a glimmer may actually refer to Valteil, but she desperately conceals this truth by playing onto the narrative that she’s obsessed with Marina, avoiding any direct reference to herself. So confronting her with accusations like, “You did it on purpose? What’s wrong with you?!” or “Your tears won’t bring him back to life” pushes her over the edge, due to the conflicted feelings about Valteil, because she was groomed, so these remarks nudge her to think about it more which drives her to lash out in fury, methinks.

So, putting everything together, here’s how the events unfold: After Valteil’s reign fully wanes, Samarie is left to grapple with the aftermath of abuse. In her desperation, she seeks out the outside world, having been isolated for so long under Valteil’s control. However, Samarie is triggered by Marina’s appearance, which bears a striking resemblance to Valteil—probably Marina's own ancient grandpa. Marina's appearance serves as a painful reminder of Samarie's relationship with Valteil. To avoid confronting this truth, Samarie convinces herself that what she feels for Marina is love, rather than a triggered fear response caused by Marina's resemblance to Valteil. To reinforce this delusion, she begins stalking Marina and gaslighting herself in the process. Through her stalking, Samarie learns about Marina’s dysfunctional family and discovers her strained relationship with her father. This further triggers Samarie, as it reminds her of her own relationship with Valteil, who ultimately faded away and left her behind. This realization threatens to unravel the narrative Samarie has created to avoid being triggered by Marina’s resemblance to Valteil. Because Marina’s appearance reminds her of her trauma, and her father becomes another reminder, her carefully constructed house of cards starts trembling, and Samarie knows she must act fast to keep it from collapsing. Enter Mr. Domek—the perfect scapegoat. In her twisted logic, Samarie decides that for her delusion to survive, Domek must disappear. He becomes more than just a person to her; he turns into a projection of Valteil. Unlike Marina, Domek doesn’t look like Valteil, which makes him bearable enough for Samarie to focus all her pent-up rage on him. So, she makes her move: Domek really has to go. Through this Samarie creates yet another narrative—the idea that “I did this all for her”—to rationalize her actions, when in truth, she simply cannot deal with her trauma. However, even after executing her plans, she finds no satisfaction. Desperate to maintain her fragile narrative, Samarie convinces herself that her actions are acts of devotion to Marina. This fragile mask begins to crack, especially when she claims that Father Domek was a pig who deserved to be melded with the church walls. In truth, her rage is directed at Valteil, who worked within the walls of the Vatican, not at Domek himself.Samarie remains the same broken "Dolly," still trapped in Humbert’s grip.“At the hotel, we had separate rooms, but in the middle of the night, she came sobbing into mine, and we made it up very gently. You see, she had absolutely nowhere else to go.”

But hey, that's just my take, eh? I love Samarie! She's like a giant bug lady I can study. I want to think of her more than just as a stalker, even if it seems far-fetched, especially the idea I had before—that before becoming the Uterus Doll and being renamed ‘Samarie,’ she might have originally been a child named Willem:

It’s about how Samarie’s human-form battle sprite, when turned sideways, aligns closely with the drawing of Willem meeting Pocketcat. Both the original Willem and Samarie wear long dresses with sharp collars and thin ribbons. Their right arms are pulled back while their left arms are extended forward. Similarly, their right feet are positioned forward, and their left feet are set back. Neither of them ever shows their left ear. Samarie’s right ear is visible, but her left ear is covered by her hair, emphasizing the importance of being on the right side. In the original Pocketcat book, Willem is depicted facing only to the right. However, in the second Pocketcat book in Termina, Willem is shown facing left, yet his left ear remains unseen, hidden by his hair. Still, this interpretation might be far-fetched and overcomplicates things further. 

The one thing I’m certain about Samarie, is that she is the Uterus Doll. My monkey brain caught onto a pattern for her Moonscorched form—it just clicks. (Pattern recognition! Woahhh, monkey, monkey!)

[faust-the-enjoyer]

@crybabyblackbear asked: can I request a Pyra x Reader going thru a bad dissociative episode? Like they're wandering thru silent hill until they drop from exhaustion, but Pyra finds them before another monster gets them, hugs them until they feel better? Reader can be fem or gn

Safe From the World

Tags/warnings: gn!reader, dissociation, angst, slight injuries, slight bleeding, blood, hurt/comfort, murder mention.

A/N: Thank you for the request @crybabyblackbear! Apologies if this took a while, I was busy and I wanted to research dissociation, so I hope this is accurate, feel free to critique me though! /gen

Divider by: @/saradika-graphics

You kept running, and running, and running, until you had to force yourself to run, the things around you didn't feel real, the trees, the buildings, the monsters lurking around, threating to chase you if you even breathed a little too loud for their liking. Yet you kept pushing forward to no avail, sometimes repeating the same steps you already took before because you forgot them, only to end up in the same place two or three times, you were becoming hopeless, heart threating to jump out of your chest if it kept pounding so hard. You don't even know how much time you spent walking around the empty town, but what you do know is that at some point, your body collapsed, face down into the ground, you felt nothing, but in reality, your legs were burning from how much you ran, your throat was dry and hurt, and your arms were slightly cut up and bleeding a little from walking between twiggy trees. You couldn't move, not anymore, and yet, you felt something creeping up behind you, something big, and knowing this town, it would probably slaughter you on the spot, so you closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable, but it never came. All you heard was the sound of quiet groans, hefty and slow footsteps, and the sound of a heavy instrument dragging across the ground as you were swiftly picked up, slipping in and out of consciousness.

You woke up a little while later, feeling the cold floor on your lower body, getting goosebumps that stung your legs, yet feeling something firm and almost soft on your upper body wrapped around you, the sound of heavy breathing still present, yet there so is the smell of blood, iron. You open your eyes a little, adjusting them to the dim light of the room, from the corner of your eye, you can see a patient's bed; you're in the hospital you spotted a few times when you ran. You tried moving your head upwards to see who or what is holding you, but you couldn't, slightly hitting your head against something hard, something so large that it's blocking the way for you to move your head around. Your eyes dart down to the tiled floor, and they widen a bit, you can see a slight reflection, one of a figure with a big pyramid-like helmet, with some blood on the figure. Yet you feel no fear, is he even real? You still don't even know if the place you're in is even real, yet the figure firmly tightens his arms around you, slowly helping you out of your dissociative state, and eventually you fall back asleep.

You're awake once again, but this time, the figure is nowhere to be seen, but you can hear the same heavy instrument that he held drag across the hospital floor from outside the room, and you're on the patient's bed. It was real, he was real. For whatever reason, he didn't chase you, didn't murder you like he would if anything else was in his way, and that filled you with both relief and confusion. It's only now that you can feel all the pain your body contained, quietly groaning as you tried to pull your body off of the bed and grasp your surroundings and the environment you're in.

[2001hz]

Silent Hill 3: 'God' (2003) Designed By: Masahiro Ito

God’s face was based on the boss 'Mary' from Silent hill 2 and the arms were from Valtiel & Red Pyramid Thing.

Due to her imperfections and unnatural/hasty birth, as well as the hate and anger in Heather’s heart, She is twisted and malformed, with her legs lacking flesh and ending at the knees appearing to not be much of an human, her spine and pelvis are visible.

God seems to posses no intelligence, lacking consciousness sentience and self awareness, much like a baby which has just been born. She is rather much a monster.

Resembling both the incarnations of God Incubus and Incubator In Silent hill 1.

[silk-flower]

Chasing After Dark [James Sunderland X Reader]

synopsis: Could Mary really be here, waiting for him in this town? James doesn't know, but the deeper he dives into this bottomless pit of memories, the more he starts to regret his decision of ever coming here. One of the many questionable reasons he still stays is you, though that might be too hard of a pill to swallow.

status: part 1 [you are here], part 2, read on AO3

content warning: female reader, death of a character [prior], thoughts about death and illness, self-deprecating thoughts, grieving and trying to move on, slight misogyny, horror, mutual attraction, age gap [reader described as younger], romance

author's note: I've been playing this game non-stop ever since it released and James is the only thing on my mind lately, giving birth to this piece. This is a reupload from my deactivated blog.

James looks up at the decomposing ceiling as dirty water drips down from the rusted pipe on the wall of your makeshift haven. Only numerous particles of gray dust and your soft breaths break the stillness of the silent room, the air stale with the stench of mold. If Brookhaven's long-abandoned hospital could be considered peaceful at this hour of the night. No chance with those disfigured creatures running amok, chasing you down the building halls.

Now that he tiredly watches you rest on that soiled hospital bed like a guard, he starts to realize how much of a toll this town is really taking on you and himself. Naturally, he is aware that, like everyone else summoned by Silent Hill, you have your own reasons for being here. May it be looking for a loved one, for forgotten memories, or for mysterious disclosures that he is clueless of and doesn't want to ask about. Similar to him, but in any case, it's not his problem. Just like you didn't ask about what the hell he was doing here, looking for someone who was supposedly already dead, he never was the one starting that undesirable conversation. He just was here to find Mary.

James sits in silence, hands clutching the torn armrests succumbed to time, slipping in and out of consciousness as his eyes stroke over your frame, not to lose focus. In an attempt to distract his tired mind, his fingers tinker with the leather case's loose thread. Curling into fetal position, as though attempting to resist an unseen force, makes you appear so tiny and defenseless on the hospital gurney. It reminds him of the time he so desperately wants to forget, but it just keeps surging up to light. He wonders if you're dreaming about something. Pity at a place like this one could only see nightmares. 

You shouldn't have come here. The fact that you were wandering alone in this lifeless ghost of a town, with sticky fog engulfing you as you became increasingly lost, was beyond his understanding. It might have been too late if he found you mere minutes after that crawling monster rushed from under the car. You were James' companion on this odd voyage, even though he didn't want you to be in his way. Keeping him grounded in a sence.

He closes his weary eyes and lets out a sigh, spreading his legs and letting himself fall back into the rolling chair, if only for a few moments. The movement sends a thick, nasty cloud of dust flying into the air, making him cough. There have definitely been better times here.

James takes you in while listening to your gentle breathing, how your brows furrow as your eyelids flutter ever so slightly, delicate hands clutching the torn bedsheet as you lay there. In this whole godforsaken town, this room could have been the closest to what he could call safe for the both of you. You didn't have much of a choice anyway, exhausted to the point of collapsing.

Though he wasn't really sure why, it seemed like his subconscious had given him the responsibility of looking after you ever since he had met you a few days prior. Perhaps because he yearned for a human connection of some sort, or perhaps it was just that you were a clumsy woman. You were really something, frustratingly snail-pased at times, your aloofness making him lift a brow occasionally.

"What a gentleman, truly", James huffs at his own arrogance. It's not that he was any better himself, a shadow of a man he used to be someday. Fighting his own battles in silence, he couldn't possibly be taking patronage of you. But at the same time, he couldn't leave you with all these monsters lurking around every corner, ready to pounce on you. Mary wouldn't want him abandoning you and he wasn't that kind of person, he kept telling himself. Thus, you looked out for one another; more him for you, of course.

James' eyes dart to your silhouette, fluttering eyelashes, and slightly flaky lips, completing your pale face like a soft palette. Your mouth parting gently as you huff against the ragged pillow. The sight makes the corners of his cracked lips rise involuntary. Perhaps he was being too harsh on you; kind and ever so cheerful, you were the voice of reassurance and reason behind his self-destructive actions for these past few days. Convincing him to take the health supplements and hope for the best, even if sometimes that seemed unmanageable. To keep himself safe and healthy to some extent. For his wife, how funny. As if the memory of Mary wasn't ever preserved in his mind. But it relieved him that someone cared, making it feel not so devastating. Bearable at times even.

His mind surges to all those times of need when you supported him with your soft words or how your smaller hand traced his tense shoulder to show compassion as you smiled weakly. Or how you looked up at him horrified, fear and tears in your eyes as he shielded you from the monsters with his back getting slashed by the great knife. Even James didn't understand why he had to throw himself in front of you when he could have avoided that crazed pyramid thing. It appeared like the creature harbored some obsessive resentment for the both of you, thus it seemed only reasonable to keep you away from its wrath.

He remembers the swell of your chest against his and the warm flesh of your waist in his hands as he caught you jumping from the broken window. Simple affection and a live connection with another person — likely the closest he has been to someone in years. He hasn't been this close to a woman in such a long time... Adrenaline pumping through his veins, the pressure of your upper body letting his rough finders trace your abdomen. Your eyes catching his hazel-green ones like soft glittering stars, looking at him with silent gratitude. Your waist safely held in his hands, and your fingers resting so comfortably atop his wide shoulders.

It was too close, too soft. To the point where "secure" felt inappropriate to him, infinitely pleasant, but wrong. Blasphemous even, like he was committing a sin by helping you. He wanted to put you down as fast as he could, to drop you even, as soon as he recognized that feeling. James felt something other than this never-ending grief when the weight of your quivering body shifted something within him. Guilt, yes. He knew that feeling well. But there was something warm and satisfying as well. Something he thought he didn't know how to feel anymore.

The feeling made him want to pull you closer for some reason.

— James? I said thank you for catching me, — you gazed into his eyes curiously, with that sweet naivety still present in your own.

— Oh, yeah. Sorry, I... Don't mention it.

What did you do to him? The way you looked sheepishly to the side, as he released you almost reluctantly, stunned him. Missing the warmth of your skin on his as soon as he let go felt indefinite; it relieved him and scorched his insides at the same time. The guilt of wanting more of you when he had no right for that. The longing for you.

The man's eyes snap open, hands clutching the faux leather armrests so hard now that his nails pierce through the moth-eaten foam filler, pain dulled by the overwhelming feeling of guilt and shame. James sighs audibly, cradling his face in his hands, caloussed fingers gradually tugging at his sunken cheeks. What is he thinking?

He still has that whitish rim bordering the finger where his ring used to sit. Because James loves Mary. Do you now? Because James knows that right beneath the surface of his threadbare heart he will always love her, no matter how smooth your skin felt compared to her faded and bloody when she was on her deathbed. So how can he indulge in thoughts like that? She was his wife, for fucks sake.

She was a living rotting corpse. And you wanted her to die.

— No, — he whispers adamantly, interlocking his fingers before his face, — It's not true.

And here you were, this young woman, sleeping soundly in front of him, trusting him with your life while he mulled over his shallow fantasies of you. Eyeing you like the unsuspecting prey while wearing a mask of marital fidelity. Pretending he doesn't want anything to do with you as he yearns for you. Angela was right.

He doesn't have to remind himself because he can feel it constantly. Guilt, shame, and regret, none of which will ever cease. Even if he tried, he couldn't — he wouldn't take advantage of someone as young, naive, and carefree as you. Why would a beautiful woman like you ever want an empty shell of a man like him? A broken shard of his own past, undeserving and ungrateful. Pititful James Sunderland, looking for someone who's long been dead in this ghost town because he's scared of letting her go. Someone who thinks of another woman inappropriately while searching for his Mary. He can't even be honest with himself. 

Even now, he still watches you in your sleep, mouth slightly agape, peaceful expression on your face making his heart throb as he thinks about the possibly over and over, torturing himself. Maybe he should forget everything. Wake you, grab you by the hand, whether you want it or not, and leave this town. And then what? Foolish thought.

James lifts his head as his tired eyes catch the sight of the peeling flower pattern wallpaper above the bedpost. Glue long since dried, crumbling at the edges, patches of withering paper are being dragged down the wall by their own weight. The faded image is obscured by a spatter of unidentified liquid, which gives the area around the hole in the middle an almost meaty appearance. Staring back at him like a sickly-pink gaping slit, a flower of dead flesh.

I need to peel it off more.

— James...

Something heavy rises in his chest, and he lets out a low gasp before returning his gaze to your sleeping body. He hasn't been taking his medication for a while now. It's too dark in here.

Your sleep becomes more restless as you fidget around the mattress, your legs getting tangled in the sheets. You look frazzled, breathing becoming more agitated as you wince. Your hands cling to the tattered bedsheet as if hoping it would hide you from whatever is chasing you in your dream. A frail moan breaks out of your sore throat, and before James can stop himself, he's on the bed right next to you as he grabs your shoulders and shakes you awake.

Someone powerful drags you out of your nightmare, the sudden intrusion of them almost making you gasp as you jump to sit up straight. The scream gets stuck in your throat as you wake. The bed cover slips off your sweaty body, revealing you to the night chill of the real world. Still not fully awake, unable to separate dream from consciousness, you catch two familiar eyes looking back at you with unusual intensity.

— James? — you mumble almost inaudibly, still shaken but unable to recall the nature of your fear. Tiny beads of sweat roll down your temple as you try to recollect your breathing, placing your hand over your chest.

— Hey, look at me. I've got you; just breathe.

James hates how patronizing and coaxing his voice sounds as his bigger hands circle your upper arms in an effort of calming you down, but he can't stop himself from soothing you. It's too easy to be gentle with you.

— You're alright. Breathe with me, — his eyes fixate on the way your lips tremble and his heart fills with dull ache. You're so fragile, so real. Alive.

His thumbs rub gentle circles into your tender skin when he stills, suddenly realizing he'd crossed the line. You're not a child. He has to let go of you. But you're still maintaining eye contact with this strange man as he guides you through your breathing slowly, the act of it feeling almost intimate but natutal at the same time. 

James stumbles over his own words, loathing the way his voice scrapes his throat like sandpaper as he talks.

— You're safe now, we're in the hospital. Remember?

You blink back at him, and he notes the light returning to your lovely eyes as you breathe in. James' close proximity only dawns on you as you feel his hot breath fan over your face and neck, ghosting over your cheeks and lips gently.

— Yes. I think I do.

Your breathing gradually slows down as your eyes trace over his features. Dark circles under his eyes followed by the first inklings of the crow's feet. The individual hairs of his stubble starting to peek through the dry skin. The weight of his calloused hands on your shoulders rubbing in a soothing motion as if applying an unseen salve to your skin. The same tough hands that swing the heavy metal pipe until they bleed to keep you safe from the terrors of this place. They care for you in an unusually tender and loving manner, and the gentleness of the deed sends a surge of heat to your face and core.

And his eyes. So fragile and soft, almost puppy-like, but also lonely and gloomy, filled with deep melancholy as they pierce into you with concern. He is worried about you. Too much for a man you've only met a few days ago.

Your hand falls on his chest, not sure whether you should push him away or not. You don't and your breathing stills, as you immediately feel James through every nerve in your body. The subtle odor of sweat and cologne that is wearing off, his breath flowing out of his cracked lips, his lean chest flexing under his shirt, and his growing anxiousness, which mirrors yours. You can feel his heart thumping rapidly as your gazes meet.

And James must feel yours too, for as soon as your breath catches with silent desire, his hands slide agonizingly slow down your arms, releasing you from his grip. Surprisingly, you feel cold and lonely upon losing his touch. You don't have time to respond to the sensation as he softly pushes you down into the bed, towering over you. He knows you're feeling it too. Worse, you might know what he's thinking and what he needs from you. Saying it out loud would cause his world and all he believes in to crumble. His life, his devotion to Mary. James cringes at the thought and shuts his eyes. He has to step away, or he'll lose himself.

— James, —

— No, please, — he looks down on the mattress and grits his teeth like it pains him to speak, — Don't say anything.

He stops you in mid-sentence from opening your heart for him, his expression distraught, nearly begging you not to continue. Otherwise, he would not be able to find any more excuses not to give into your heavenly touch. You don't push it, facing him calmly instead. 

Hovering over your motionless body carries him far away, as you catch his wistful look, filled with anguish and some indistinguishable emotion. James' gaze lingers on the wall behind you for a few seconds before returning to your face, his eyes dreamy and glazed over. His breathing comes out with a small rumble, making his throat spasm as he speaks again, putting on a tiny smile.

— Try to go back to sleep. It's still too dangerous outside.

You sink into the cushion and cross your hands across your chest like a chaste maiden, suddenly feeling timid for some reason. As James' bigger hand traces over yours, covering it protectively, with it comes the sense of security. You close your eyes with a small exhale, drifting back to sleep. 

— I'll watch over you.

Just this time, James assures himself.

Just a little bit more.