COR LACUS (latin): "HEART" + "LAKE".
you know, i never came to terms with their loss. in the days that followed, i became obsessed with an idea: that the beach is real and they are on it. i would induce cardiac arrest, three minutes at a time, and search for them. day, after day, after day. [...] it is said that everyone's beach is different. so what if everyone's afterlife is different too? i find the thought terrifying.
An independent, selective, and private RP blog for HEARTMAN "The Beach Scientist" as seen in Death Stranding 1 + 2. Multifandom, multimuse, OC friendly. Tethered to Ed (23, he/it).
Themes surrounding death, grief, and loss of loved ones heavily present. Please read rules before following.
HE HASN'T TOLD HER YET, but he's terrified of flatlining. Not because he doesn't trust her, or the crew on the ship, or the way the bed hangs on the wall by chains that have been stress-tested against their ravenous antics. It's because he can't trust himself, noticing the strangeness of his resurrections. His things moving without any memory of it, his glasses disappearing (and reappearing in Sam's possession), finding himself in places he can't remember going to. At first, he thought he was just getting old, forgetting things, misplacing them, then they became more frequent, made him more exhausted. Maybe she notices it, can see the way his eyes shift fearfully as the anxiety of cardiac arrest creeps ever closer to his enlarged heart.
In the afterglow, he stares listlessly at the ceiling, pressing his fingers to where his heart is kept. For the first time in a very long time, sharing an intimate moment with his wife doesn't seem to get his mind off of things. If anything, they've only been highlighted.
"Okay..." he says plainly, like he's not sure if he can believe it. Not because she would dare lie, but because Heartman isn't sure his body will sit still in death this time. He should tell her, she should know, but at the same time, he doesn't want to admit that being near her scares him. It terrifies him, just the thought that he may hurt her without ever knowing so. His hand reaches up, grabs her by the forearm and brings it as close to his chest as he can. The mechanical voice begins its countdown. Wet eyes look up at her as he presses kisses to the rest of her arm, along every memorised piece of her. He wouldn't hurt her, he couldn't, but the fear still lingers. Gloved hand still clutching her bare skin, his heart swiftly stops beating.
John was sitting on the stairs, looking ahead. He was watching the waves slowly wash over the pale sand and retreat back to the dark grey mass. Its always approaching, the waves always chiming. John tilted his head and looked down at the watch that was on his inner wrist. Time was just after 6. It always is. Never changes.
John then turned to look back to note a grand church building standing tall. He turned back to gace the waves in front of him once again.
John sighed and closed his eyes when he heard someone approach. "I thought you weren't coming," he finally said opening his eyes, recognising a familiar face. "I'm glad you're here." John shifted aside although there was plenty of space to sit. "Please, stay here a moment."
John's beach is special. All beaches are, but John's is one of the few that Heartman actually likes to visit. Not for its decor or anything like that; everyone's beach is different. But he likes the company. The dead have a lot to talk about, but John, in particular, is comfortable with letting silence wash over them. It allows Heartman the time to think, in an otherwise busy mind. "My apologies, I was taking the scenic route here," he says, making his way up the steps. He takes his seat by John's side, like always.
Heartman is never late, never early, and never on time. What is punctuality in a space where time stops? "Of course, John. I have all the time on the beach for you." He turns to look at the sea crashing against the shore, watching as a few of its creatures wash up dead. A few crabs, some fish; Heartman is no psychic, but it feels as though something weighs heavy on John. Or maybe he's just projecting. "Were you waiting very long? Forgive me for being a little facetious, but I did intentionally take the scenic route. Not out of disrespect for you, I hope you understand."
It's more out of scientific curiosity than a genuine worry, Heartman knows that time doesn't pass here. But the same can't be said for one who wanders the beach with no end.
Sarah remained where she had slumped, half coiled as if she were to pounce despite the sickly pallor of blood loss washing over pained features. Rye drew back to her side, pacing circles though not once baring his teeth toward their kind saviour. Good, the last thing she needed was an unnecessary death on her conscience, let alone trying to find the nearest tar pit. Silence, mismatched eyes tracing his movements from the chair to the door where he disappeared from view entirely. Only then did she let free a breath she was unaware she had been holding, bloodied fingers running through her dog’s fur before dragging herself over to Heartman’s recliner.
Peeling bloodied clothes from her skin, she made a half hearted effort to fold them as to not leave his pristine lab a total mess. Glancing to her pack, a tired smile tugged at scarred lips. Saliva soaking the handle; Rye must have turned his attentions to dragging that in through the snow after his attempts at pulling her a limb at a time. His teeth had only managed to puncture her forearm, though dark bruises had begun welling in the other spots he had latched onto. The formally occupied bodybag made for a makeshift sheet to lessen the extent of blood streaks over the poor man’s furniture, hunting through her own supplies as well as the first aid kit offered.
Her head jerked up at the door whirring open once more, now somewhat clean. The lesser wounds had been cleaned and wrapped with a combination of gear, using strips of torn up fabric soaked in water to try to clear back some of the grime. Dark streaks of semi dried blood were swirled over her skin, laced with scarring and tattoos. The whale skeleton cresting her spine was mostly obscured by her pale hair, but she made an effort to turn herself, needle and thread pinched in her fingers.
“Sorry for the indecency but uh- hard to clean these otherwise.” Maybe once upon a time she would have been bashful about being sprawled in her underwear, but it was the least of her worries currently. The needle bit through her skin, teeth gritted as she pieced together the hole tearing into her side. Rye, nose twitching his grey peppered muzzle, came bounding over at the scent of food, rudder-like tail sweeping back and forth.
“He won’t hurt you, I’m surprised he didn’t when you found me… Must like you- ahhh ow fuck.” A pitiful groan left her, tying off the last of the sutures and dragging an already bloodied alcohol pad across it. Another scar, but she was alive, hard to complain about that. Her palm pressed a gauze to it, glancing at the tea. Well… It wasn’t as if she was in a position to go anywhere. “Thank you. You’re very kind, Heartman, kinder than most. I can’t much pay you back beyond cleaning the mess I’ve made here.” A bed. How long had it been since she slept in one? “I don’t want to impose.”
He's polite enough not to stare directly at her in her current state; he imagines being wounded is enough embarrassment for anybody. Being nude is another thing. He waves at the window to dim it slightly, allowing her more privacy even if there's hardly ever anybody outside, much less anybody with sense enough to try looking through the thick blizzard that's just begun to make itself known. Even if she weren't so undressed, Heartman would've turned his head from the sounds she was making regardless; he's not squeamish, but there's a particular distaste he has for hearing someone being in pain. She eases only half of the anxiety letting him know that he won't be getting the same treatment Rye had given her on the trip back to his lab.
But he smiles regardless, keeping his fingers warm with his own cup of tea and turning his attention towards the vast bookshelf. His hand dismissively waves at her. "Please, it really is no bother," he lies, shoulders still chilly from the earlier excursion. "My time spent with the living is brief and constantly fleeting. It would be pleasant not to be alone, even if for just a few moments. I'm terribly lonely all the way up here. Perhaps I should explain myself?"
His fingers trace along the spines of his collection, stopping at Casualties of Twilight. "I make constant visits to the beach. Sixty of them a day. Every twenty-one minutes, I induce cardiac arrest in pursuit of my research. Ah, you should know I'm not the only dead body here." Eyes look over his shoulder; he can't help but take a peek at the tattoo, even if for just a brief moment, before continuing to face the shelves. "An acquaintance of mine has recently passed, in a way, and I've kept her body for study. You shouldn't worry about her either; her body does not necrotise. Fascinating, isn't it? The Death Stranding has changed much of what we once knew as facts of life. It was the case when man discovered technology, and it continues to be the case now."
A sip of the tea helps warm the rest of his system, even if it might've burnt his tongue on the way in. He wonders how long she might stay; would she take up his offer? Would she staunchly refuse, despite the biting cold? "I would offer you something warm to wear if I had anything in your size," he admits, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass of a framed photo. "Have you been staying here long? Underneath my home, I mean. I've noticed you come by every now and then, not sure for how long now..." He takes another contemplative sip of his drink. "It isn't the most comfortable place to stay, is it? What with all the snow..."
The tea does its best, but the thought causes him to shiver; he's not sure how porters- or anybody else, really- can stand to be anywhere near this place. Anybody that doesn't already live here, of course. He suddenly starts to feel a little remorseful for Sam. "I may need to collect a blood sample from you later. A rag will do— It's for the security system here, you see. It relies on biometric scanners, and I'd hate for you to get stuck somewhere you wouldn't want to be. My boss is likely to tug my ear for it, but he allows me many freedoms."
It was a nice surprise, Kalia feeling like she could let her guard completely down now. She was good as sensing some kind of danger, or someone up to no good and this wasn't the case. She was tought at a young age to sense danger, to now when it was near and to handle it accordingly. She'd only fallen victim to bad things a handful of times, nonetheless she knew Heartman meant nothing bad. A peaked curiosity of anything.
"Yeah, really heavy and it's kind of hard to process." She admitted a little reluctantly. "The end of life if a weird thing isn't it? One day you're alive, and then the next you've made mistakes you can't take back... nevermind" An admission, or the direction of what was bothering her spoken more openly than she had meant for it to be. "The beach has always helped. You know, when I was a child I would leave home when things got harsh. The sound of the ocean is very calming in ways, no?" Kalia's eyes looked over, the look of wonder on the man's face. "Sorry... I'm being rude, what's got you out here so early? Is it really just an early morning stroll?"
Death is a curious thing. It's something Heartman himself has found himself dwelling on plenty of times; it is the nature of his work that brings him there constantly, chasing after him constantly. But it's almost beautiful, in a way. It gives him, even if morbidly, a reason or a purpose. What those may actually be, he's unsure, but it gives meaning to what they may be. He lets the thought pass by with another breeze. "Ah, it really is no bother. I was the one interrupting you earlier, it should be me apologizing."
He absentmindedly kicks some sand beneath his feet. "I'm not entirely sure anymore," he says, crossing his arms. "It truly was a morning stroll. I intended to come here with my wife— we're on vacation, you see. We started working at the same organization together, recently. Everybody seems eager to point out that we're a family... I don't see the fanfare." He's rambling, attempting to fill the dead air. Heartman doesn't like being caught with nothing to say; it's uncomfortable, makes him feel as though he's incapable of socializing (which is, in itself, half true). "You know, the only reason I started working there was to prove everybody wrong on a theory. Now, I'm not so sure I'll like the conclusion my research is beginning to point towards."
Despite the more cheery (even if anxious) attitude from earlier, he frowns, staring at his shoes. "Have you ever done that? Take a job just to prove a point? It's silly, isn't it?"
If anybody wants to watch this documentary by liv corfixen definitely do NOT DM me, I will NOT send you a link to where it can be viewed nor will I offer you instructions on how to download it with subtitles .. .
ED'S RIDICULOUSLY LONG POST THAT LINKS EVERYTHING ABOUT HEARTMAN BACK TO NWR BECAUSE THIS IS KINDA EGREGIOUS AND NOT EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE.
What it says on the tin. I try to list as many things as I possibly can about Heartman that are most likely references to NWR as a person or his works. This character is such a love letter from Kojima about his best friend; while plenty of other characters in DS have their likeness based on someone he's close to, none really hold a candle to how extensive the list of connections are between NWR and Heartman. I need it all written out because sometimes it makes me feel a little insane.
HEARTMAN'S COMMON NON-WORK RELATED ORDERS; He tends to put in orders for vintage media, art, medicine, "fancy" alcohol (whiskey and wine ), and jewelry. NWR has an interest in fashion, media collection, and also has been public about his poor health.
HEARTMAN'S LOVE FOR HIS FAMILY; NWR is very outspoken about how much he loves his family, but it's also apparent in his public appearances. Ever since they were young, he brought his kids with him to events. He's concerned for their well-being and is very involved in their lives. He has involved Lola in his work and having kids has actively changed his outlook on life.
EXCESSIVE LIKES + THUMBS UP + GESTURES; if you've ever seen a tweet of NWR's that involves Kojima or his stuff, there's an average of 3 hearts and thumbs up emojis. He also likes to do the thumbs up gesture quite a bit while directing. In general, NWR gesticulates a lot while talking. Kojima himself has mentioned that this was a very intentional thing he directed in Heartman during the writing and motion capture process.
HEARTMAN'S COLOR SCHEME; Blue/yellow are contrasting colors, and also there's no such thing as blue/yellow colorblindness. NWR likely has tritanopia (even if he hasn't said so, he's mentioned he's colorblind and the most used colors in his works line up really well with tritanopia). Heartman's lab also glows blue/pink when he's dead.
HEARTMAN'S MORBID (AND SOMETIMES KINKY) CURIOSITY; It's more obvious in the book but, when Mama is brought to Heartman's lab, he's described as being very interested in it in a very strange way. NWR has mentioned that his works are expressions of or heavily feature kink/fetishes he has. His work is very violent/grotesque in an almost beautiful way (hard to describe). Go watch Neon Demon (2016) or Drive (2011) and you'll know what I mean.
HEARTMAN POSSIBLY BEING DYSLEXIC; there's a notepad in Heartman's lab which features scratchy handwriting , a misspelling of "survivers", and a jumbled up composition, which is common in a lot of promos that NWR posts where he's writing words out on a photograph.
HEART ISSUES / GENERAL HEALTH ISSUES; I don't want to dwell on this one too much, but NWR is very public about his health issues. In the book, Heartman initially dismisses the idea that he has a heart condition and this seems to be something NWR has/had a tendency to do when something is serious but he thinks it's just one of the million things he usually has. Important note: You might've seen him talk recently about a heart surgery he had; this surgery was around 2020-ish, at the "end" of COVID, so DS1 had already come out by then. It's not very clear if Kojima already knew he had heart issues in general or if having a heart theme just fit him generally.
MEDIA COLLECTION; NWR collects a lot of films, records, books, action figures, etc. He and Kojima actually text each other stuff that they find, it's really cute!
HEARTMAN'S ISOLATION; There's quite a few times when NWR has said he's not incredibly social outside of work. There's also times when he describes his relationship with Kojima as "two satellites orbiting the same planet", which sounds very distant and lonely.
HEARTMAN BEING TOUCHY; You ever seen the way NWR directs and appears during events with actors? Zero personal space. It's most egregious with RyGos in particular, but I think it's just because RyGos finds it amusing to humor him often. In general, NWR really likes touch between him and people he cares about. The cutest example of this is towards the end of Liv's documentary My Life Directed By Nicolas Winding Refn (2014) in which NWR reaches out for her hand after the Cannes film festival.
YAPPATRON 5000; It's more obvious in the book, but Heartman fucking yaps. And so does NWR. Heartman's entire cadence is a lot faster paced than NWR usually is though, thank god, but he does tend to run circles and overexplain things in metaphors which can be hard to decipher at times.
SAMANTHA SPADE; The subject of race isn't brought up much in DS, which is why it stuck out to me that Samantha is described as a "spirited, hispanic woman" but turns out that this is likely a reference to Yaritza ( a spirited, hispanic woman ) from Too Old To Die Young (2019), which came out just before DS1 did. Hideo does a cameo here in episode 4 (which also features Liv!).
HEARTMAN HAVING A CRUSH ON SAM / BEING GENERALLY INTERESTED IN HIM; Potentially a nod to NWR's bicuriosity (but I've always interpreted it closer to Heartman being so lonely that he's latching to his first human contact in years).
THE HYDROLOGIST; She plays a role as Heartman's new girlfriend in DS2, or something similar, and her likeness model is Liv Corfixen, NWR's wife. She directed a documentary of her life during the production of Only God Forgives (2013).
DEADMAN USING HEARTMAN'S BODY; Whenever asked about being in DS as Heartman, NWR loves to say borderline-kinky (or straight up kinky) stuff about Kojima using him as a puppet or an object. NWR has no other real input in Heartman as a performance aside from being the muse and the scanned subject.
Heartman used to really wish he liked guys back in high school and college. It's kind of silly, but he always considered his attraction to men as a superficial thing, partly because he didn't really get into a relationship until college. He didn't know what being in love was like. When he started dating Olivia and watching more films, reading more books, etc, it was during a time when he felt confident and sure about his feelings of attraction. The movie that really Did It for him was The Green Knight (2021), in which Dev Patel's character is put into all kinds of Situations; it really opened his eyes to men being physically AND psychologically attractive.
These days, Heartman considers himself "bicurious" rather than "bisexual" because he prefers the idea of still being in the exploratory phase rather than having a proper label. He wants to experiment and figure it out. By now, he most certainly is bisexual under usual definitions, but he loves to view much of his identity as under the umbrella of still having so much to learn and discover rather than being "done" with it, in a sense. Which isn't to say he wouldn't confidently date a man by the time of DS2, just that he's not done exploring his attraction to men and he doesn't want to be done with exploring things like that. He's, naturally, a very curious scientist!
