I did this fun thing a little while ago about how *I* would react to Leon's different eras hitting on me, and it kinda got me thinking about james sunderland again. except he doesn't exactly have "eras" in the same way, but I'm still gonna try it out bc it was fun and this is my horny fic crush blog fuck you
Pre-Mary James (late teens-early twenties)
if he's a teenager? fuck no. I don't date people younger than me. immediately fuck that.
early twenties? yeah, still a no.
he's got too much light behind his eyes.
he hasn't been torn apart by the weight of the world yet.
wouldn't exactly laugh at him, but I'd let him down gently.
like "no, sorry I'm not looking to date rn"
would he be embarrassed? yes.
but that's better than having *me* of all people potentially break his heart
Mary Era (early-mid twenties)
he is literally in a committed relationship. no.
in fact, if he is in a relationship and is hitting on *me*?
oh I'm telling on his ass
if it's in a public place and he's hitting on me, I'll take his phone under the guise of "giving him my number" but then I just snoop around his phone to find whichever text exchange fits a relationship
this is during the button phone era so there's no contact like "Mary 💖💖" to help me out
it's probably more like "Mary xox" or "Mary <3" if that
but then I'd just text her like "hey bb just fyi ive been hitting on guys @ da bar 2nite so make sure 2 talk 2 me ab this l8r xxoo"
Illness era (Mary is sick, mid-late twenties)
oh bitch do I have a made up storyline for this one-
Mary is terminally unwell. he visits her during the day. then spends his nights moping around the bar. this, we know.
he meets *me* at the bar.
pretend I'm a bassist who books regular gigs at that specific bar with my made up band.
I finish my set, have a drink, go home. most nights.
me and James start talking.
talk about music, about life, eventually I find out his wife is ill. feel sorry for him. eventually we become casual friends.
one night things are especially rough between him and Mary. except I only get *his* side of the story.
famously unreliable narrator btw.
leads me to believe him and Mary might just be over. (they are not. but again, I don't know this)
I try to help him through it via talking, but he wants something else.
cut to the two of us in the men's bathroom giving each other head.
he hasn't eaten pussy in so long he is fucking ravenous, let alone had his dick sucked.
basically ends up face fucking me.
doesn't come in for a couple nights.
when he does, it seems like there's something more beneath the surface.
I assume he had a bad time. don't approach him.
we spot each other. do nothing.
the next day, he doesn't come in.
doesn't come in for a whole week.
then, through the people at the bar, I overhear that "That quiet guy who used to come here all the time... What happened?"
oh fuck... and he cheated on her. with *me*.
eventually, I stop showing to gigs at that particular bar. even driving by it makes me feel sick.
Silent Hill/Post Mary Era (late twenties-early thirties)
the town has me trapped now.
I may not come in contact with the nurses, but pyramid head is enough to freak and confuse the hell out of me.
like why is our collective embodiment of guilt *that*??
anyway, I know exactly why I am there
the guilt of being the "other woman" by this point had been eating me alive.
despite having never met her, I wouldn't be able to get Mary out of my mind. the grief I would have put her through had she known. feeling as if I was responsible for her death, a mere week after her husband had cheated on her with me.
resentment towards the man I'd once considered a friend building up within me.
was he taking advantage of me? or I of him?
that didn't matter. he cheated on his terminally ill wife.
I'd swore that if I'd ever see him again, it would've been on sight.
approaching me as if he'd forgotten what we'd done. it had only been three years, and yet I was just another stranger to him.
he holds up her picture. the first time I'd seen her face.
as if I could have possibly forgotten.
I tell him that no, I haven't seen her. but I'll be more than happy to "help him look". if nothing else, hoping to jog his memory. foggy as the air of silent hill.
we form that familiar bond we had, before we decided to ruin it for some quick fun.
I remember why I considered him a friend.
he doesn't seem to remember fully.
I remind him only of the good parts.
that I was a bassist at a bar. that we became good friends. and then he stopped showing up.
as we'd progress through the town, he'd remember little bits after little bits. about his wife. about their relationship. about her illness. and eventually... he'd remember what we did.
we'd made our way to the bar.
mysteriously, a bass guitar sits front and center. a position I'd never held on stage. preferring to keep to the back.
he wants me to play something.
it had been a while since I had played anything.
my fingers glide across the fretboard with practiced ease. muscle memory kicking in as I play the bass line to the song that played when James first entered the bar.
by the time I'm done, James looks at me. a mixture of recognition, horror, and apology.
he knows what happened between us.
but only he knows how he spent that last week leading up to his wife's death.
I see it in his eyes that he remembers.
that resentment is forgotten about its ugly head.
There WAS a hole here, now it's gone.
this is the closest I would get to being romantic with james. whatever it may be, I won't last.
Post-Silent Hill ("Leave" and "In Water" endings)
now that I know the events of what led up to Mary's killing, I can never look at him the same.
part of me despises him for being an adulterer and murderer. the larger part of me. as a matter of fact, I probably would have tried to kill him myself.
after being told "you opened my eyes to a new life. one where I was free. one where I wasn't being held back... a life without Mary. I knew what I had to do." I would have fucking lost it.
making sure James knows, in no uncertain terms, how absolutely hideous a person he must be to think that of his wife. how selfish he is. how disgusted I am that he would try to use his lust, and the actions he took to take it out on me, to justify killing Mary.
To say I would be livid would be an understatement.
this would alert pyramid head, starting ye old boss fight where we work together to kill our guilt.
I end Silent Hill knowing that it is not my fault Mary was killed. And that her death was out of my hands.
James ends Silent Hill fully aware of what harm he's caused. And now, that is something he has to live with.
I tell him that he knows the right thing to do.
"Either turn yourself in, admit you killed her... Or kill yourself. Make your choice."
whether he lives his life carrying the weight of his actions, or succumbs to the crushing guilt by driving his car into the lake?
it was never in my hands to begin with.
Post-Silent Hill ("Maria" ending)
by this point, I still know James as a selfish twat. I know what he did to Mary. I'd figured out who/what "Maria" really is.
why in the fuck would I want to spend any further amount of time with a delusional, unfaithful murderer?
I have more self respect than that.
I end Silent Hill knowing that it is not my fault Mary was killed. And that her death was out of my hands.
James ends Silent Hill succumbing to his selfish desires. Living the remainder of his life in moral purgatory, surrounded by his delusions, and the illusion of love and safety.
I return to life knowing that some people don't want to be saved.
And that, is out of my hands.
