#resident evil purgatory | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silverzoomies · 2 months

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Summer Wind

tate langdon x reader smut

warnings: existential crisis, death, afterlife, implied/referenced character death, murder, angst, aged-up tate langdon, fingering, fingerfucking, kissing, canon divergence

word count: 4,690

a/n: another drabble. y'know that thing people do sometimes? where they "age-up" a character, but don't really age them up? i initially wrote this in response to that. but it somehow turned into a means of venting my existential terror instead. i was gonna include more smut. but tbh i didn't feel right about it. this one's gonna stay unfinished. sorry about the abrupt ending !!

inspired by the song summer wind by frank sinatra

You were dead for an indiscernible span of time.

You couldn't be sure how long. But you suspected a few years, at least. Through one of the top floor windows of your eternal purgatory; you watched the trees. Nature alternated between skeletal displays of branches, to vibrant arrays of color. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming again. Rinse and repeat.

Once you accepted your fate, things started clicking into place. Trapped in a vintage hotbox of murder, you put together the pieces of a long lost puzzle. And though some parts were still absent, you pushed yourself to move on. You might never figure out how you died, or who you were before. But to worry so much would be senseless at this point.

Through acceptance, you began to feel again. If only in small bursts. Abrupt, but worth cherishing.

One memory remained ever present. You had the sense you were a school guidance counselor in life. And in death, you took up the mantle again. Offering your services to the other souls lost in the house. One of the ghostly residents shared a similar occupation. Way back in his breathing years. He didn’t do it so much anymore. Instead, he spent time with his family, working towards redemption for his past actions.

You steered clear of most residents, fearful of their unpredictable episodes of bloodlust. They allowed the evil within the house to lure them further into madness. On the days they came to you for your services, you spoke to them in hopes they’d find absolution. Change in the afterlife was extremely difficult to achieve. Your 'clients' rarely ever scratched the surface of their tainted psyches. And any progress they made, they always resorted to their old habits in the end.

Only one of them ever found true change. Of course, he had to be the most wretched of them all.

You once felt sympathy for Tate, making excuses on his behalf. In the years when his heart still pumped blood through his veins; he was young. Misguided. Perhaps the pressures of his upbringing took too much of a toll on him. And in the afterlife, he suffered under the influence of the house itself. The evil buried deep within channeled through his broken soul.

But if such an evil did exist, it never took hold of you. Nor did it sink its venomous teeth into Violet, or her innocent mother, or that pure of heart baby, or even Ben Harmon himself - sinful a man as he was. They resisted, and so did you.

Tate was pure evil. Carnage incarnate. Maybe that made him susceptible to the influence of dark forces. But after talking with him for a few years, you accepted him for what he was. Foul from birth, deplorable in death. No matter how often you tried guiding him to goodness, he remained forever loathsome. The evil in him burned eternally, needing no kindling.

His own acceptance of that fact allowed him to change. In a more physical way, much like Moira. Tate embraced his fate, convinced the house was where he belonged. A punishment until the end of all things. Simultaneously, a safe haven from whatever lay in waiting after purgatory. Tate’s progress was very much real. Albeit, not the kind you aimed for.

You could see his growth in his features, rather than his morals. Sitting across from you during another weekly session, Tate fidgeted with a frayed hole in his jeans. With his blond brows creased, he stared down at the denim. As you watched him like this, you picked apart his finer details. Where his skin once beamed with the pale, ghostly image of youth; creases were now etched in. Faint, but noticeable lines curved under his eyes.

An aura of maturity emanated from him like a light much too dim. Tate carried the same mannerisms from his heyday - if one could even call it that. But he had long since graduated from his mentality of that era. Tate spoke of his past actions as if he regretted them, though you suspected he felt no real remorse. He used to cry all the time. He used to throw childish tantrums. But you couldn’t remember the last time you saw his soulless, black eyes water. Now…

He carried nothing but cold desolation. Common amongst those trapped in perpetual limbo.

“I saw her again today.” He admitted, his lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours, “She hasn’t changed any. Not like me. Not like…” Tate made a gesture at his face, his thumb grazing the angular shape of his jaw. Tiredly, he blinked, “Not like this. Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I always thought we were fated to be together forever, but…”

On the sofa across from him, you kept your cheek perched in a hand. As you scribbled in your notebook, you took note of the way Tate’s features bled misery. All at the mention of her. It must have been painful for him, watching her stay the same. While he finally outgrew himself. Those changes only further separated the two of them. Obliterating any chance he had to make amends. If there ever was.

There especially wouldn’t be now. Even Tate was on the tailend of coming to terms with it.

“How’d it make you feel this time around?” You pressed in a soft tone, shifting on the couch. His dark hues zeroed in on your thighs, bare in a simple dress. The lining appeared cheap, glittering with sequins reminiscent of childhood nostalgia, “When you saw her?”

“Fuckin’...I dunno…” Tate put his face in his vascular hands, fingers curling into his hair, “She’s like a kid to me anymore. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe she’s content like that. In the same way you’re content the way you are now.” You shrugged, tenderly laughing, “Maybe teenage angst suits her that much.”

He shook his head, shifting from a criss cross position on the loveseat across from you. Bouncing a leg, Tate gave you a pointed look. His brows turned downward.

“We thought it fit me too, didn’t we? But look at me now."

You were. You were looking at him a lot. And he wasn't wrong. Teenage angst once paired well with Tate's immature nature. Back when he thought like a kid, and acted on impulse. These days, he'd become more lethargic. When he wasn’t consumed with blood lust. Rugged virility was his partner now. Coupled with the melancholy existentialism of a man pushing thirty.

“You wanted to move on.” You clarified, your teeth clicking the edge of a pen at your lips.

“Did I?” Tate bitterly laughed, the empty vacuums of his eyes caught your tongue in motion, “Doesn't seem like anyone else here wants to. ‘Cept Moira.”

“Well, they only think they can’t. They believe they’re tethered here, frozen in time at their moment of death. I used to think growth was impossible too. Until you…”

You took in his masculine features again. The scruff around his chin. So fair, and not too noticeable. Catching yourself in the midst of ogling him, you redirected your gaze to Tate’s eyes. Imposing. Starless. Easy to get lost in. He wasn’t ignorant to your attraction. A hint of grin pulled into his laugh lines and dimples.

“Does it scare you?” He asked, “What’s your excuse then?” Tate threw a condescending nod of his head, “If you’re so enlightened. If you know better than all of us - with your morals ‘n bullshit like that. Why haven’t you changed any since you died?"

Shrugging, you looked bashfully down at your notes.

“Why would I want to? If I can stay young for eternity. If I can keep these curves, and what’s left of my youth. What’s the point in growing older?” You admitted in truth.

“That’s a little superficial though, isn’t it?” Tate leaned back into the loveseat cushions, “Shit like that doesn’t matter here. Who are you tryna impress? And what’s anybody living gonna think? When they meet you, and find out you’re nothin’ but food for maggots now.” He teased, legs spread, one knee bouncing, “There’s gotta be another reason you haven’t moved on. You’re not like us. I dunno why you and the Harmons don’t just…y’know…go.” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap.

You saw his bitterness return in full force. Another miserable wave of longing washed over him. Yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore, and never would again.

“I…” You paused, doodling hasty flowers in your notebook. You avoided Tate’s eyes, “I wanna know how I died first. I wanna know who I was. Before I even consider moving on.”

Sinister acidity flashed through his vision, “Seriously? That’s what’s stopping you?” Tate huffed a harsh laugh, admitting without missing a beat, “You wanna know how you died? I’ll tell you. I stuck a knife in your back and stabbed you to death.” He confessed, monotone, “You know it too. You’ve known since we met. You’ve just been in denial this whole time.”

You sat up in an abrupt movement, scooting forward and tossing your notebook away.

“What?! What are you even talking ab-…I’ve been trying to figure this out for years, Tate! Years!” You threw out your hands, “You…you can’t be serious! Why would I be in denial about something like that??”

Tears of betrayal stung the corners of your eyes. Tate shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He crossed his arms, his eyes dark under the ridges of his brows.

“‘Cuz you feel bad for me. Or…uhm…you wanna feel bad for me.” He shrugged again, “Fuck if I know why. I’m the last guy you should have sympathy for.” Tate said, his black hues narrowing in thought.

“You didn’t…did you really stab me? Really? You’re not lying about that?” You almost shouted, clawing your fingers through your hair, “Please. Please tell me you’re lying!”

Tate appeared unfazed, ignoring you, “Do you love me or something? Is that why you’re so broken up about this?” He asked, desperate in his infinite search for validation.

“Why the fuck would you stab me?!” You shouted, full of wrathful turmoil.

You stood off the couch, surging toward him with your fists balled at your sides. Tate didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, thoughtful again. With an insufferable aura of nonchalance, he shrugged once more.

“Wanted to.”

The blank emptiness in his expression told you everything you already knew. Tears streamed down your face, painting your cheeks and chin in damp threads.

“Where? Where did you stab me??”

Tate gestured with a nod of his head, towards the only window in the room. A summer breeze fluttered, catching the curtains in its dance. You wanted to find the radiant light of nature beautiful again. But it only served as a haunting reminder - the environment remained symbiotic with time. And you were forever left behind.

“Over there. By that window.” He said, watching you pad over to said window, the skirt of your dress fluttering.

The window. In the one room you always felt so drawn to, for reasons unknown. Now, you knew. Bracing your hands on the windowsill, you peered your head outside. Ghosting your skin, the air breathed an essence of life. Something you were no longer a part of. You used to be content with that fact. But now? Knowing your life was unfairly ripped from you, how could you ever move on? Your death wasn’t an accident. Nor had an irreversible illness seized your physical form. Just Tate.

His low voice droned from behind you and in your ear. A faint vibration followed, along with a presence at your back. You felt the soft texture of his sweater, but no body heat with it. One of his icy hands met your shoulder. He reached his other arm out. Tate pointed to a spot near the entrance gates.

“I didn’t wanna tell you. Because I didn’t wanna lose you too. But…” He paused for a beat, “It was on Halloween. Ten years or so years ago, I guess. I was gonna leave. Make my rounds. Y’know…like I used to. The house was-uh...up for grabs back then. You came up to the door. One of the kids here opened it for you. And you kinda...walked in. Tried lookin' for 'em. Wrong place, wrong time.” Tate lowered both his hands to yours, after sliding his fingers down the sides of your arms, “You were holdin’ hands with some kid the whole time. He had to be, like…seven? Eight? I don’t even remember what his costume was.” His lips curved in a grin, “But I still remember yours.”

Your fingers curled into the sill, scraping wood, indenting the paint.

Ten years.

“So, you stabbed me in front of a child?”

Another breeze blew by. The steady air picked up your dress with it, flitting delicate fabric. Glitter along the seams of it fell away, sparkling like microscopic crystallites in the wind. Tate’s long fingers drew patterns over the cold surface of your skin. Tracing infinity symbols onto your hands.

“Rapunzel.” He whispered, “That dress was kinda pretty on you. Sucks about all the blood.”

You remembered then. When death imbued you with unexpected consciousness, you wandered around the house in a blood-stained dress. And ever since, your afterlife wardrobe alternated only between dresses of similar styles. Always cheap fabrics. Decorated in craft materials. You assumed you must’ve loved playing dress up in life. The thought of perishing in a store bought Halloween costume never crossed your mind.

“Who was he?”

You sniffled, breath hitching without any need for oxygen. Tate brought a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. He loomed behind you. A cold-blooded apparition of your nightmares. His casual talk of violent depravity made your blood boil.

“Who, the kid?” He asked.

He lowered his hands to the sill. Looking out the window over your shoulder, Tate squinted in the sunlight.

“Yes! I don’t-” You burst into tears without warning, sobbing into your hands, “I-I don’t remember anything! Nothing! I had no idea…who was he??”

“Dunno…” he dropped his head, pressing his cheek to your hair, “I didn’t really stop to ask. He ran away. Right after I pushed you out of this window.”

“You pushed m-what?! You’re a fucking monster.” You whimpered. Wishing you could leap out and disappear with the oscillation of the wind, “You know you’re never getting out of here, don’t you? You’re never going to change, Tate. You’ll always be a monster.”

“Probably.” He droned, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, he added, “You’ll be stuck here too. If you don’t let go of that anger. If you let your rage consume you. All that bitterness and hatred. This house feeds off of it.” Another pause. He nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, “Uhm…I know this won’t fix anything. But…I really am sorry I took your life from you.”

You huffed, staring teary eyed out the window. Taking in the vast, effervescent world you’d never be a part of - through the border that brought your demise.

“But I’m really stoked you’re here….’cuz it’s not as lonely with you around.” He admitted.

“I could always tell you to fuck off.” You choked, venomous in your revulsion.

“Yeah. You could. But you won’t.” He grabbed your arms with gentle hands, wheeling you around to face him. He took your tiny fingers in his palms. You refused to meet his eyes, “If you made me disappear, you wouldn’t have anybody.”

You decided to hit him where it hurt, strangling through tears, “I could always talk to Violet. She has such a good heart. Not like the rest of you. You’re all just…awful. So horrible and cruel!”

Tate clenched his jaw, dropping his forehead into yours.

“You’re right. She’s not.” He woefully mumbled, “How come I still miss her, huh? Been missin’ what we had for, like…forever. Now I’m pushin’ you away too. And you’re all I have left.”

“Maybe stop killing people, Tate?” You snuffed, tears catching your eyelashes. He wiped them away all the same, “Who knew death could be so miserable. I…I finally found out the one thing I’ve wanted to know after all these years. I thought a little closure might help me, but…” You cried, “I feel even more messed up.”

“Why? Do you love me?” He pressed with so little confidence, you felt he only said it to convince himself.

“I…” You hesitated, brows furrowed, “I cared about you. Even though you’re a lunatic. I wanted to give you a chance. But now…now I just want to shove you out this window like you did to me. I want to scream at you, Tate! I want to make you suffer! I want to-”

He shifted closer. Within this vicinity, his maturation became all the more clear. Your weeping hues glazed over the creases under his eyes. The blond bangs of his hair had thinned by a smidgen, losing its youthful shagginess. He was all fine lines and outward exhaustion. Had you met him like this in life, you’d think him a mere decade away from a mid-life crisis.

“Go ahead. If it helps. I don’t mind.” He reached down again, grabbing your hands and guiding them up to his chest, “Just let all that rage go…you can take it out on me.”

This was just another tactic of his. An attempt to appease you, in desperate hopes you’d forgive him. Still, you didn’t think twice. Whatever wrathful anguish you kept buried inside finally erupted. The soul crushing weight of loss tumbled down over you, sending you into a frenzy. You thrashed your arms, throwing your fists in shallow, but sharp strikes. Battering against Tate’s chest, you landed every blow - inspired by betrayal. He remained still, watching you with a hollow look.

Hits turned to scratches as your grief took hold of you. You clawed into Tate’s sweater, wailing, powerless to the pain of his disloyalty. Taken aback by your overwhelming emotions, you wondered how the afterlife could bring so much suffering. Tate wrapped his arms around you again, and you buried your nose in his sweater. Your sorrowful tears stained the stitching.

“I hate you. So much. So fucking much.” You whimpered.

“You said you cared about me.”

“I hate that I care about you.” You cried, sobbing into his sweater, “I-I want to hate you. I need to hate you. But you’re right. You’re fucking vile, and you’re right. If you were gone, I wouldn’t have anybody else.”

Shifting again, he tilted your head up with a cold hand under your chin. Tate stared down at you, weary with lonesome desolation. The endless monotony of purgatory brought forth nothing but turmoil. And that turmoil linked you both in all-consuming angst. When he dove in to kiss your lips, you allowed it. If only to feel something far less painful.

Tate hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. But he flowed naturally with you, wary of applying too much pressure. The last of your tears fell, and again, he wiped them away. Separation came slow, as he parted from your lips. He blinked, leering like he couldn’t believe you reciprocated. Another beat, and he dove in all over again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Kissing in your ghostly state felt bleak as the dull air of winter. In the throes of lonesome yearning, death nuzzled death so intimately. You opened yourself up for him, moving back until you hit the windowsill. In your negligence, you sat on it. A calm, easy breeze enveloped your back, tickling your neck. His desirous kisses swallowed you in, his hands claiming your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his words weaving through every kiss.

Fate had yet to deliver you closeness of this kind. You couldn’t fathom how intimate connectedness might work in death. As Tate’s cold lips fell to your neck, the atmosphere between the two of you shifted. Something akin to the radiance of life saturated the air. Like the summer’s glow shining from outside. A few seconds more, and coldness turned to heat. Sensual heat.

“What does it feel like?” You asked, breathless without the need for air. You tipped your head back. Tate took this as an invitation to ravish more of you, “To make love after dying?”

The glossy warmth of his tongue painted gradual lines across your neck. He caressed you with a thumb, gliding the digit over your cheek. Under the newfound heat of his palm, you felt burning intensity. No one else brought you physical touch like this. Not since a time before you perished, so long ago.

All because of him.

“Feels kinda the same?” Tate muttered in a hushed voice. Capturing your lips again, he kissed you with cautious tenderness, “It’s a lot like being alive…from what I remember. Some of us get addicted to it. Like a drug. They suffer without it. Drives ‘em crazy.”

His forehead fell to yours once more, and Tate’s eyes fluttered shut. He continued stroking your cheek, cradling your face. As if you’d disappear once he let go. You noticed the way his chest heaved. Slowly, like his lungs were still infused with the essence of life. But when he moved in for another kiss, you felt no breath on your lips.

“Does it drive you crazy?” You whispered between kisses, “Do you suffer without it?”

“Not really.” He said, dragging his thumb over your lip, “Missed this, though. I miss it all the time.”

“What? Kissing?”

Tate nodded, blond brows creasing as his smile faded. For a beat or two more, he fell silent. Staring down into your eyes with all the liveliness of a barren void. You gazed into a cave-like abyss, lost with no light to guide you. Beckoned by the promise of something unseen.

“This feels…different…with you.” He whispered.

“Different how?” You shivered as his soft touches moved elsewhere, "Are you feeling guilty? Does it hurt? I hope it fucking hurts."

Dragging the tips of his fingers up and down your arms, he drew invisible lines with his nails. So careful. Like you’d shatter if he treated you too roughly. His palms settled over your hips, and again, he kissed you. Tate just couldn’t seem to stop doing so, even as you spoke to him with poison on your tongue.

“No. It’s warmer.” He squeezed your hips a little tighter, “Why…why’s it so warm with you?”

The initial kisses between you both were so frigid and lifeless. But now, somehow, so heated and real. You locked your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles. Inviting him forward, you loomed in the sill of the window. Your body tilted. In the arms of the summer’s air, you almost fell backwards. You had every reason to believe Tate would let you plummet.

But he didn’t. Not this time.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you from slipping. Under your dress, his free hand sought the heat between your legs. His palm cradled warmth over thin cloth. Discreetly, he pressed the pads of his fingers to your sex over your panties. And the contact amplified a scorching fire within you. A vigor exceeding the bitterness of death.

You wondered if Tate had less experience than he claimed in therapy. It took him a few tries before he found your clit. His sizable fingers circled your little nub in easy motions. Drawing long, needy noises out of you. Silence lingered between you both in calm, but tense quiet. Until the rasp of his voice caught your attention.

“Do you feel this? Do you feel, like…anything?”

You whimpered in response - timid like a churchmouse - as wetness stained Tate��s fingers through fabric. Cotton once so pure and untouched became damp. He chuckled, the sinister rumble in his throat making your blood run cold. Until the warmth of desire lured you in before you could second guess yourself. Savoring the hot friction on your pussy, you allowed sin to taint your clarity.

"For you? No. Never. You're sick. You're twisted. You're-" You cut yourself off with another whimper, once Tate caressed you with more pressure.

“Oh, shit…” He hastily tugged your panties down your thighs. Cupping your bare cunt, he pressed firmly into your clit. Thick digits teased the blazing heat of your folds, “You do, don’t you?”

Tate’s fingers dipped into your slick valley, his digits predominantly larger than your own. You rolled your hips just a smidgen, careful not to lose your balance - lest you fall out the window. Again. Though, maybe a rough tumble onto the lawn would knock some sense back into your muddled head. His other arm stayed iron locked around your body, keeping you safe. He eased inside you with all the hesitance of a man out of practice.

"F-Fuck! Fuck this. Fuck you." You mumbled, hushed under airy moans.

Following the squeeze of pleasure in your core, came something you lost in the afterlife. You almost felt the pumping of your dead heart again. A ghostly sensation of life blossomed under your ribs. Warmth flowed through your veins in syrupy bliss. Cozy wind billowed from outside, tickling your skin. If you closed your eyes for long enough, basking in the ecstasy of true feeling - you might’ve believed you were somehow revived.

Flitting your lashes, your eyes gradually opened. The sunny glow of afternoon light painted Tate’s aged features, showering him in golden rays. An image far too heavenly for a cold-blooded monster birthed from sin. You looked lazily into his hues. A whirlpool of guilt intermingling with lifeless cruelty; all within his dusky eyes.

“Feels like…” He mumbled, clumsily nuzzling your clit with the pad of his thumb. Biting his lip, Tate stifled a groan. He buried his fingers to the knuckle in your cunt, “...like I can feel your blood pumping.” Adding a third digit, he stretched you open. Your walls made effortless room just for him. You whined, making him smirk, “Fuck, this is hot. You love it, huh?”

"No. No. No, I'd never! Not with you. I'm just-" You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn, "It really does feel like-"

Post-mortem coldness became lost on you now. Left behind, alongside your broken hearted resentment. Instead, you were overcome with the lively spirit of beingness. The afterlife had been so unkind to you. For a decade now. It abandoned you to stew in the longevity of solitude. With no one but Tate to provide you true company. Bringing your hands up to his cheeks, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his blond locks. Winding your tongue sloppily with his, you whined.

"Make me cum." You asserted, your legs sealing tighter around him, "Make me cum, and I might forgive you."

A flash of vulnerable sweetness overtook Tate's face, his puppydog eyes lighting up. An almighty flood of euphoria built up to a radiant crescendo, as his digits fucked you into oblivion. You clamped around his fingers, squirming with such intensity - he almost lost his hold on you. Tranquility found you at the peak of your climax. A divine miracle. As you cried little pleas into Tate’s lips, you felt as though you grew angel’s wings. As if some ethereal being descended from the heavens themselves, stole you away, and led you to the golden gates.

As you shuddered, your paradisal tremors eventually subsided. Blissful nirvana faded, and the hollow nothingness of death’s touch came again. Outside, the world continued on in slow-moving seconds. And in the distant horizon, the sun began its steady fall into night. Tate’s nose brushed yours. Looming in so close, he withdrew his drenched digits from your pussy. Leaving even more forsaken emptiness behind.

“I could…do that kinda thing for you every day…if you wanted me to.” He whispered, peppering your forehead in kisses, “It feels really good, doesn’t it? Just…please don’t make me go away? Please…”

#tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #tate langdon #american horror story #ahs

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themanlykittenkayden · 6 months

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A lot of answers and confirmations this time in the broadcast:

- The island we’re currently on IS Quesadilla Island, they’ve just broken most of the black concrete. They have not solved the root of it at all yet

- The residents who haven’t woken up yet are officially canonically missing. No one is canonically confirmed dead or alive

- The coffee maker is fixed!!

- We already knew this but Cucurucho seems to have a lot of power and authority on the island. He’s able to dictate things like increase in security, rescue efforts and seems to know a decent amount about their mysterious research

- Speaking of which, we saw the Federation Laboratory and they’ve got their hands in a lot of different projects. Several specimen we haven’t seen before (I think) are in captivity there

- Luffy is alive and seems to know a decent amount about what’s going on with the Eye guy. I don’t think he’s feeling very generous towards his captors though

- The workers who were taken over by the eye have found Quesadilla Island and the secret facility, meaning the residents are still far from escaped

- Codeflippa and the other code entities were in possession of the Federation and have since then escaped, leaving behind the same corruption that infects Charlie and his home

- And finally, the return of Cucurevil, confirmed to related to Cucurucho- specifically brothers (If I had a nickel for each Quesadilla Island character from the Federation with a corrupt twin brother that has ties to this evil eye entity…)

That said, what was up with Cucurucho overhearing Pierre at the beginning of the broadcast? What’s the deal with Luffy and the other little guys? How exactly are Cucurevil and the Eye entity related?

Most importantly, now that the Eye Workers have reached Quesadilla Island, how long until the residents are faced once again with that threat of the continuation of purgatory?

#qsmp

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bloodpen-to-paper · 6 months

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What we got from the QSMP stream (Dec 2, 2023)

-Some residents of the island, including Foolish, did not return from Purgatory and are MIA

-Most of the shadow virus (black concrete) has been dealt with by the Federation, save for some specific areas

-Charlie's house is being investigated by the Federation for its overgrowth of Code matter

-Luffy (one of the little eye creatures from Purgatory who followed around Team GGN) is in Federation captivity and is being researched on/made to provide information to the Fed via drawings

-Infected Fed workers controlled by the Eye Observer attacked the Fed in an attempt to retrieve Luffy; they were killed by Cucurucho and the Fed workers, but the Eye has made it clear this is not over

-The Fed are not aware Etoiles was the one who broke into the testing facility and freed the Code that was there, but they do intend to install more security measures

-Cucurevil/Oscurucho (the "Evil Cucurucho" with inverted colors) is supposedly Cucurucho's brother and met up with them after a long time of having not talked; we are unsure why as that's when the stream ended

-The coffee machine has been fixed

#phew #think i got everything #mcyt #qsmp #qsmp recap #qsmp federation #cucurucho

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ball-of-butter · 20 days

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red queen characters and their fav video games:

mare: grand theft auto 💀🙏 any gta game she can get her hands on but it started with the chinatown wars on ds

cal: missed out on a proper childhood so is treating his inner child to fnaf for the first time and idk… something something about the story being an overarching narrative about a brother trying to pick up the remnants of his family through his grief… he says he doesnt get the lore butbhe kinda does. also had a goat simulator phase for the same reasons but minus the angst

maven: i would like to say some really cool psychological game but this mf would probs love playing chess against a cpu the most 💀 silent hill takes second place though (he’s obsessed with the idea of a purgatory of one’s own making… hmm… i wonder why 🤔)

evangeline: mario cart (she eats anyone who even THINKS of playing as peach)

elane: some sort of dating sim methinks… maybe like those ikemen games (let her be y/n)

ptolemus: fortnite for the dances.

kilorn: also fortnite but he has one-sided beef with ptolemus on there who keeps trying to add him. he also has the toph skin and keeps wiping the floor with his ass (ptolemus has the miles morales skin)

cameron: the attack on titan vr game where the world’s best comedy is originated from

gisa: what remains of edith finch. cursed family narrative goes hard with these folk.

shade: hes a legend of zelda girlie.

diana: she genuinely doesn’t play any game besides minecraft because she gets forced it by other people. but i know she’d love red dead i just don’t think she could be convinced into playing it (tragic)

iris: virgo versus the zodiac would speak to her, i feel. she has a secret weird side that only indie games could tease out of her.

wren: star stable!!! secret horse girl lore.

thomas: resident evil 4 because depending what you headcanon him as hes either feening for leon or ada or both.

coriane: definition of stardew valley girlie. but considering what she went through maybe yume nikki would be a game she keeps close to her heart (someone check up on her).

elara: if the sims 4 existed in the red queen verse it could have saved a lot of lives. maybe even her own.

sara: she wipes everyone in super smash bros you best believe it.

julian: castlevania: symphony of the night… mm the grip it has on this nerd loser… do not even breathe the name alucard around him he will give you the entire dracula lore starting with le fanu’s carmilla.

dane: detroit become human. played markus’ storyline and bro suddenly was made to govern a democratic republic for the people by the people.

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swords-of-a-soilder · 5 months

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My QSMP Headcannons vs in game Canon

Feel free to correct me if I get the Canon wrong.

•Tallulah uses hearing aids-this one is actually cannon but people tend to leave it out in art.

•philza uses a walking cane after purgatory- while Phil stated multiple times that the condition of his wings gave him poor balance, even though his wings are somewhat better I imagine the constant back and forth for someone who was never really good a balancing paired with the weight of his new wings probably make it very difficult to stay balance while walking.

•Fit, Tubbo lost limbs in purgatory- correct me if I'm wrong but I'm pretty sure Tubbo didn't lose a lib in Canon, and I'm also not sure if the texture of Fit new skin is meant to be read as a prosthetic but I like the idea.

•Richardslyson has a prosthetic leg- this isn't excalty clear whether or not it's canon, we know his model in game has a leg that doesn't connected to his shell but it also important to note that Phil adjusted Richards statue to reflect a prosthetic leg, so you could technically consider it canon.

•Phil is demi-romantic- I know Phil never gave a clear sexual orientation to his in game character, but watching them interact with other love interest he gives the vibe of a demi-romantic person.

•Fit and Phil are divorced on really good terms- the kind were you realize your better as friends, which would also play a part in Phil discovering his is demi-romantic. Obviously in canon they was no clear past relationships established between them.

•Bolas actually does see Phil as a father figured- obviously Cellbit calmed he was joking when he called Phil dad, however Baghera still seems to call him that. I also really just want Cellbit to have a good father figure lmao.

•Rose is Phil's mother- I could go into detail of how the goddess of life birth the angle of death, but I equate it to her being his mother as God is your father but like she's his mother directly. She made him, she raised him, she'll protect him like her like depends on it.

In canon Rose just seems to be the Spawn entity but I like to imagine her as his Spawn entity. That would mean that she spawned him into existence in the hardcore world.

•the federation isn't evil, just misunderstood- I'm not saying they are good, just more morally grey. They do horrible experiment and treat the residents curly in our eyes, but in their eyes this is normal.

They do things thinking the residents don't know any better and therefore their complains are invalid, quite like a narcissist parent.

•the eggs can shape shift- I love the idea of the eggs taking on physical traits of the person (s) that they feel loved by slowly the more fond they become of them.

So the original Chayanne would stay an egg for the first two days then shock his parents by appearing as a little boy with blond hair.

When badly injured they go back to egg form.

•Charlie is in fact part slime and that's how he shape shifted into gegg- technically the qsmp info channel confirmed this in the qsmp full story videos

•Jaiden was a part of project blue bird- again not confirm, but I really like the idea that she was raised by Cucuchroo and that's why she naturally acts kinder to him (but she doesn't remember)

•the island has a respawn entity- following the concept of Rose aiding Phil's spawn, I like to imagine the whole island has a entity that revives players after death, and thus respawning in other demension ie the nether, takes much longer as that a different entity all together.

•the radiation of the blast from purgatory turned Foolish into a shark human hybrid, I mean technically canon since has the speed fins now.

•Forever has a survivor complex- this is up to interpretation of whether or not it's canon but I perceive Forever's behaviour as someone who feels he had to save everyone; He is the president after all.

•Forever likely still has feelings for Phil- or better yet the feelings have developed into genuine love as opposed to obsession, but from observing Missa learnt the best way to love Phil is to respect his wishes.

•Lovejoy is canon in the qsmp and is sponsored by the federation hence why Wilbur often leaves for tours. I'm actually not sure if this is canon or not, I recall Phil joking about it but I don't know if that's the Canon explanation as to how he's allowed to leave the island.

•Missa like Wilbur is sent on sponsored trips by the federation; in which he gather information on other islands, the resources of said island and whether or not their populated

•The codes are corrupted dead eggs- I'm mostly getting this theory from the codes disguising themselves as eggs and codaflipa, but I really like the idea that the codes are eggs that have died in the past with past residents and are restless.

A good backing for this is how Sofia found the eggs to be non organic, which makes me think that in a way they are computer programming, an sentient artificial life.

That does however bring the lore question of how their ghost can return, I think codes are a store of ghost form for them, with the code of their existence being shattered after a while they degraded to code monsters.

This would explain why they kill eggs (they want more company) and how they're able to disguised as them. Codaflipa can only return a few times because it's difficult to keep that form with shattered codes.

Now it is hinted at that the eggs are artificial, Sofia and the details of A1 being hints at that, but there is no Canon confirmation of such to my knowledge

I also know that Etoiles seem to believe the code killed eggs because they were being controlled by the federation, but I don't believe that seeing as the federation went out of their way to get the eggs back.

#that's all i got #share your own in the comments #qsmp #qsmpblr #q!philza #q! fit #q! tubbo #q! forever #hcs4 rose #q!missa #q!jaiden #q!charlie #q!cellbit #q!chayanne #q!tallulah #q! Richardslyson

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basssiliskk · 6 months

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/rp all characters not cc

It's a little sad how when talking about paternal figures in Cellbit's life, no one really seems to mention Foolish, his actual father-in-law, like how they mention Bad or Phil. I know being a father-in-law and being a real father are two different things, but if you're looking for someone who gives him advice and is willing to tell Cellbit he's proud of him — Foolish fits the description perfectly.

Foolish has always been there when Cellbit needed someone to back him up, especially during the castle building arc when the majority of the server regarded Cellbit as a traitor. That was even before Cellbit married Roier and they became official family. Just recently, before Purgatory started, Cellbit found the book Foolish left him that essentially said "I'm always here for you no matter what."

Foolish completely regards Cellbit as family. He even put the job he worked for months towards on the line by covering for Cellbit's part in the serial murders he was meant to be investigating. Foolish worked tirelessly for that position nearly since he first arrived on the island and pushed other residents away to the point that he now feels like an outcast or "other," but was going to throw it all away if it meant keeping Cellbit safe.

I feel like a lot of people disregard their relationship because in media the "evil in-laws" trope is so popular; but in real life plenty of people are extremely close with their parental in-laws. Especially if they have a negative or non-existent bond with their actual parents. Considering Cellbit didn't really have a parental figure growing up (minus Bad being there during his Hunger Games years), I feel like the sentiment fits him pretty well.

tldr; qFoolish is the #1 qCellbit supporter and always has been

#qsmp #castleduo #qcellbit #qfoolish

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malichev · 5 months

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I woke up now and I already have a lot to talk about. Starting with my guess, I'm right, we will have a continuation of Elena's live on the official QSMP. The synopsis says: They say that after the storm comes the calm, but is that really the case? Be there to find out, tomorrow. 🗓️ Thursday, 1PM PST

Apparently, it's time to see the consequences of Elena's actions, after all, she killed a worker. I still hope she gets the map for Pomme and Richas, I really want to see that, especially since we've never seen a ``map'' of Egg Island/Purgatory before.

Besides, I don't know if it's my paranoia, but I think maybe we'll have another live on QSMP, because this one is being done on a Thursday, right? On the same day as QSMP REWIND, just 1 hour before. My point is, the question is, why not leave one of the events for Friday, why do both on the same day? I'm not complaining, but it's curious, unless Lore is going to advance again in the next few days and they're going to release more content. So maybe there will be more than one live on QSMP. Another point, I saw clips of Mouse, Mike and BBH's lives, apparently Cucurucho is spying on the residents again. Stalking. When he does this, it means something is going to happen. I wondered a lot why he stalked these specific residents, one theory is that maybe he knows that someone is going to try to bring qCellbit and qBaghera back, so maybe he's following the eggs (Pomme and Richas) and the residents who are with them. Or he has evil plans for specific residents.

#qsmp #qsmp brasil #qsmpbr #qsmp cellbit #qsmp lore #qsmp purgatory #qsmp bbh #qsmp mike #qmsp ironmouse #qsmp pomme #qsmp richarlyson #qsmp baghera #qsmp cucurucho #qsmp elena

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olealoa · 3 months

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so apparently at the con, vivziepop did confirm that adam is dead. HOWEVER, she also confirmed he “lives on in a way”

first of all, im gonna be sobbing because this could very likely mean he is NOT going to come back in the present. he might be dead and that’s that. HOWEVER, her comment that he “lives on in a way” does make me thing.

first of all, this does confirm he’s still…SOMEWHERE. some way, in some way shape or form, past, or present, he’ll still be SOME sort of plot relevance. which is GREAT!!! only question is, where? how? WHY?? where the hell is this man? how does a soul “stay alive” even after their second death? why does HE (and possibly other souls) get another chance? these are all questions we really cannot answer, but i do have a few ideas.

so to begin, WHERE???

my first theory would be that he comes back as a sinner. although her rather vague confirmation of “living on in a WAY” really makes me now more reluctant of this theory, it’s still on the table. and it’d be GREAT as a character development. think, the guy who just devoted his LAST MOMENTS trying to kill the hotel residents because he believes they are lesser, they are evil, they are not WORTH anything other than his own satisfaction of your death, is now brought down to their level, at their doorstep, begging for forgiveness. begging for a second chance. BEGGING for another shot at heaven. the same guy who hates them, now has to learn to accept and grow from his flaws, learn to love them and see how it feels to be at the same level of the oppressed. and maybe, he’s just not good enough to be redeemed, that could also be the case. while i would hate for that to happen, it’s still something that could happen, and it’d still show how some people just are too far gone to be given ANY more chances. though i hope that’s not how they write it.

my second theory is a little bit more grim and a little bit more sad on adam’s part. and that is he is among the souls of the rest of the sinners, those eyes we see watching in the walls every once in a while (think of those eyes we see in the walls when angel is shouting at Val). he, just like the rest, is not given another chance at living, but instead the chance to observe from the sidelines, not above nor below, but also not equal. we wouldn’t see him ever, but he would still in fact “live on”, although for people like me who really like him as a character i am HOPING this is not the case.

my final theory for WHERE is just. purgatory. it does canonically exist in Christianity lore (that is a HILARIOUS sentence to say for me), and it can basically be dumbed down to the place between heaven and hell that’s not earth, but rather a place where one can learn and change their ways from their sins, giving them a shot at heave, or not change at all and head down to hell. that is, from what i know, what purgatory is. and this could possibly be a thing for Adam, although i still would LOVE for him to be humbled and brought down to the level of a sinner, because he should in fact be considered one.

next question is HOW???

now how the hell is he still “alive” in a way even after he died….twice now? how does that work? my idea is the fact that the “immortal soul” is a thing in Christian lore, that a soul “never really dies”. and this could go for all three of those WHERE theories and more, that a soul, even after afterlife death, can still “live on”, whether it be on the sidelines or dropped up/brought back up, and considering sir pentious was brought UP to heaven despite being killed by an angelic weapon really does make me have a few theories, but ill talk about those in the “WHY” section. and to be completely honest, I don’t have a whole lot to put here. “How” is a kind of question I have to ask with MORE lore. though feel free to add more onto it.

FINAL QUESTION. WHY?????

thiss is honestly a really HARD question to answer, but i do have ideas. for starters, going onto how, HOW does the soul stay alive (not alive as in sitting on the sidelines, but rather actually moving UP or DOWN to heaven or hell)? well, my idea is that dying “permanently” (as in, due to an angelic weapon), your fate depends on whether or not you’re capable of change or not. so those sinners who died in the extermination never got a CHANCE to respawn because they were never given the OPPORTUNITY to try and change like sir pentious was. they died, and that was that. while as someone like sir pentious died in honor, in an effort to save his friends whilst (previously before) TRYING to grow into a better person. and this is why there is no criteria of getting into heaven, because you don’t NEED to be this or that to get into heaven. you need to grow and CHANGE as a person and continue to grow and change. adam got into heaven because he began to learn from his mistakes, but becoming corrupted by the idea that he was “perfect” because of it, even though he couldn’t even think of WHY he got into heaven, is why he (in this theory) went down to hell. because he was brought back down to square one.

and this is honestly why i REALLY SUPER DUPER believe he’s capable of change. i mean, that last smile he gave to lute before he saw the light….or the darkness or whatever the fuck was really was sold it to me. and it’d be foolish to not use the potential you have with a character this important to your source material, i mean he’s the first guy ever for christ sake, and he’d be a great candidate for the idea of redemption, or i guess, non redemption. so in conclusion, WHY would a soul get to stay/not stay alive, get another chance, whatever? because the point of hell and heaven (in the hazbin universe) was always SUPPOSED to be the splishy splash nature of growth and change, not “your set to stay here and that’s that”. like, of course, people like Val deserve to stay in hell, because they’re genuinely bad people, they don’t want to change and they literally CANT change. but you’ve also got people like angel dust and sir pent, who are flawed but full of potential, because they weren’t the embodiment of sin in their past lives. and Adam, who was considered one of the first sinners who also happened to go to heaven, had lost his way and went down a level, but maybe, just maybe, can grow and change as a person too.

or maybe im crazy. i just feel unsatisfied with him dying and that being that. he’s an important guy. he’s a cool, funny little character. he’s got some unexplored dynamics that i feel wouldnt be able to be properly explored through what we have, or a flashback. so ill put faith in vivzie and her really flawed team. i wanna see something good happen with this character !!!!

#hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hh #hazbin theory #Adam #adam hazbin hotel

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crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington · 1 year

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daughter like father

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worstvideogamesong-poll · 3 months

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Worst Video Game Song Tournament - Round 3 Match 3

The Yoshi Clan - Yoshi's New Island

youtube

VERSUS

Mansion Basement - Resident Evil Director's Cut

youtube

FIGHT!

I would recommend listening to as much as you can of each song before voting, but how you choose is up to you! Remember to be civil in the tags and replies!

Propaganda under cut:

The Yoshi Clan:

"the ass band will play a song of farts to celebrate your failure"

"#FUCK YOU YOSHI"

"#yoshi sounds like suck"

"#YOOOOOOOOSHI CLAAAAN!!!!!!!! #ok im gonna complete my santa review before getting to my ten page essay on why i love yoshi clan. yea that shit bad #i accidentally started it playing in two tabs at different points of the video which was honestly really fun. i recommend tryin that esp wi #bad songs really adds smthn to the exprience. it was awesoeme #it also just sounds the exact type of awful that that video image implies which is cool. its so perfect. it sounds ass #but. what it can not beat. is my favorite of all time. my darling love. it is time to begin my sermon #ok so yoshi clan is just so beautifully terrible. and truly the whole soundtrack is an orchestra of bad design. and its so fun to look at #that really nice professional looking art for the game and get BLASTED with kazoo #and like. i understand the thought process. kazoo does seem silly goofy yoshi. and it also sounds like a chorus of pain #now this song specifically has some really great awkward pauses. at 0:16 theres like a full 3 seconds of silence. which is SO cool #then the hot cross bun bit that ends at 0:27 gets so sad and deflated at the end of it. like it starts off in time but then clearly the #soloist got kinda embarrassed alone and so rushed and got really quiet. and its just so sad and lonely. its so cool #also some of these pauses have a couple lone far away kazoo squeaks for no reason before the 'melody' comes back in? awesome #but what i really really love about this. what really draws my eye. is the ending. because we go through this entire rigamarole with the #worst secondhand embarrassment of my life. then. 0:43. the kazoos move out. and in. the most genuinely awesome groovy drum beat in the worl #like its SO good. and those last few seconds are like you're in a different world. like you just survived horrors and you are brought to an #angelic chorus. and it lasts what 5 seconds? 5 seconds of beauty after a full 40 seconds of purgatory. in what world do horrors live foreve #while an angel can last for only a flash #its cruelty. its injustice. its completely ingenious. incredible music making. i am in such awe. #anyways thats my manifesto. please feel free to put any of this in the propaganda section op. im passioante"

Mansion Basement:

"this song fucking sucks. i love it."

"[Mansion Basement] is literally what letting my cat walk over my keyboard set on some particularly bad trumpet sample feels like. Spectacular"

"#This is so funny #Who made mansion basement?? #It's so sad!! #And pathetic!!"

"#whaat the fuuuck is up with [Mansion Basement]"

"#like NOTHING can compare to mansion basement #what the FUCK"

"#the mansion basement made me cry #ithink i know who the winner here is #🎺🔥🔥🎺🔥🎺🔥🎺🔥🎺🔥🎺🔥"

"#[Mansion Basement] THO HEEEELP.??? BABY ON FL STUDIO TRYING TO PLAY MARIO UNDERGROUND THEME...."

"#resident evil is a joke song for clowns"

"#I'M NOT LISTENING TO THE OTHER ONE I KNOW FOR A FACT IT'S MANSION BASEMENT #THE STORY BEHIND IT IS WILD TOO SO THAT'S AN AUTOMATIC WIN BABBBEEEYYY" (pollrunner's note if anyone knows what the story is please tell me i am dying to hear about it)

"#i saw the title of this post and literally IMMEDIATELY thought of mansion basement #felt emotionally validated when i saw it was an option #i love that song #in the worst way #like a drunk zombie looking for its keys in an orchestra"

"#im fucking obsessed with mansion basement. sweep"

"#what the hell that is not a real resident evil song #did they really just make that and put it in the game #what"

"#I ACTUALLY LIKE THE BASEMENT SONG because it perfectly captions how like- #the sneaky suspicion of getting diharrea feels"

"#fart basement ofc"

"#Mansion basement is objectively the funniest song ever"

Feel free to add more propaganda in the tags and replies, or send it to me in the ask box and I'll try to share it as soon as I can!

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youphoriaot7 · 6 months

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I kept a running commentary of what was happening, so here is a very messy breakdown of QSMP's 11/11/23 stream!

cucurucho showed up in his house(?). it's storming outside, full lightning and thunder. this biome is ODD, it's all blue with the glowy trees.

he heads outside, farms some crops and checks the mailbox (it's empty) before going back inside.

he put the crops into his cupboards and sat at his tv before proceeding to watch slime's "juanaflippa" song

the duck cut his happy fun times short, playing the first cutscene from purgatory day one. cucurucho kept "no"ing it, and eventually turned it off.

his doorbell rang, and he opened it to see a worker with glasses standing outside (we've seen him before with polispol!)

the worker gave him a note: "census bureau, sorry for interrupting you at your residency. there is a problem at the spawn. it seems there is a toxic matter and we don't know how it originated." as well as three pictures of the black concrete-covered spawn

cucurucho went to a small office in his house and pressed a red button named "panic button." the following message played: "this is an emergency meeting. all workers are required to assist until the situation is resolved. the infection is spreading. there is no identifiable source of it yet." he then said "i don't know why."

he started a report: "226+8 a.r. REPORT: Bad news [has] arrived. A meeting needs to be arranged. It has been raining for days."

another cutscene: "urgent! quesadilla island cleanup attempts have failed. the substance is spreading at an alarming rate and has reached federation offices. and emergency meeting must be held."

dialog cutscene: CUCURUCHO: "WA02, report for an urgent meeting at the office. CUCURUCHO: "..." CUCURUCHO: "WB012, report for an urgent meeting at the office. Sanitary masks are mandatory." WB012: "Understood, sir!"

there's black concrete all over the entire main federation offices. it's everywhere. there are workers inside trying to clean it up. cucurucho checks all the offices before taking some of the workers through a warp plate to the auditorium where the A0 event was (where there is also concrete, but not as much).

"this is an emergency meeting. all workers are required to assist until the situation is resolved. the infection is spreading. there is no identifiable source of it yet." (repeated message from earlier)

one worker's report: “As you know the residents have been sent off to egg island. We have reason to believe a third party has intervened and we cannot contact anyone anymore. It’s not safe for the residents. We need to get them back.”

another report: “Our friend and co-worker WA02 is missing [for] weeks now. We still don’t know what happened to them.”

another report: “We still haven’t figured out who murdered all of our colleagues and our lead detective is not here.” (this worker—agent 18—was very upset.)

another report: “the northeast office and the team reported a paper about a stray signal sent by one of their captive subjects, a binary entity, we are in need of signal blocking equipment as soon as possible.” (the second page involved this worker's evil plot to get everyone to drink apple juice.)

another report: "THE COFFEE MACHINE BROKE AND I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE PLEASE BRING THE COFFEE MACHINE BACK I AM COPING WITH TEA PLEASE T E A"

cutscene: “The quantity of issues is unacceptable. All workers will be tasked with handling the infection unless told otherwise. Follow me.”

the workers and cucurucho returned to the train station, which did look a little bit better than yesterday. he sent one of the workers off in a boat from near foolish's dragon, saying "follow protocol. return the residents to quesadilla island." (o7 worker)

he ordered one of the workers to work on the train station before heading to the president's office and leaving a message for forever: "MR PRESIDENT, PLEASE MESSAGE ME ONCE YOU['VE] RETURNED. IT IS URGENT. :)"

he then added to his report: "It is everywhere. There are many more issues that have been reported. We need to check on: the code entity we kidnapped, what happened to WA02, someone has been sent to egg island, apparently the coffee machine broke as well…"

the adoption center has been practically destroyed—blocks are missing like explosive damage and there's concrete everywhere. there's concrete all over the wall. he ordered one of the workers to work on the adoption center.

cucurucho went back to the main offices and wrote a new book: "PLEASE CHECK ON THE STATU[E]S OF THE SUBSTANCE AND REPORT BACK TO ME ASAP TOMORROW!" he then ordered a worker to clean up the offices. (he may have given this book to this worker; i missed that part.)

he then added to his report: "All workers have been assigned to their area. we can only hope that the rain will stop and the work will be done before the residents return"

he then returned to his house and went down a secret elevator into a room lined with rows of barrels. he named his report "226+8 a.r." and put it in it's proper place by date before returning to his office and pressing the panic button again: “The shadow virus has spread to a dangerous level. Under our advisors recommendation, the federation will retrieve the stranded islanders, thus suspending protocol AB.”

"I hope you enjoy the island." the stream ended with no fanfare.

#qsmp #qsmp recap #breakdown #qsmp cucurucho #the federation are evil

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wistfulweaverwoman · 11 months

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There’s been a few “Gale isn’t that bad posts lately. Yeah, he wasn’t evil, but he wasn’t good either. And that’s on purpose.

On a meta level THG trilogy is a retelling of Dante’s Comedies. Gale is Virgil, Katniss is Dante, and Peeta is Beatrice.

Virgil (and therefore Gale) represents human reason, while Beatrice (Peeta) represents divine love. Katniss is Dante, moving from Virgil to Beatrice, who then transcends to Paradise (or a world where Peeta's children can play in the meadow).

Here’s the gist:

In the opening scene of The Inferno, the first book of The Divine Comedy, Dante (the author, the main character, and the first-person narrator) awakens in a dark wood midway through his life’s journey, having strayed from the True Way. A shade (i.e., a spirit or ghost) of the Roman poet Virgil appears to Dante, having been sent by Beatrice to lead Dante on a journey through Hell, Purgatory, and eventually Paradise (Heaven). Virgil leads Dante through the various circles of Hell and partway up the ascent of Purgatory before Beatrice takes over as Dante’s guide the remainder of the way through Purgatory and on to Paradise.

So why must Beatrice take over for Virgil as Dante’s guide? Virgil symbolizes human reason in The Divine Comedy, the power and achievements of the human intellect left to its own devices without God, without the redemption offered by Jesus Christ, and without the influence of the Holy Spirit. Human reason is symbolized elsewhere in The Divine Comedy by the faint illumination coming from a citadel, what translator John Ciardi calls the “Citadel of Human Reason” in Limbo, the first circle of Hell (see The Divine Comedy, Canto IV), where the virtuous pagans and unbaptized souls, those who were otherwise virtuous but who lived prior to the incarnation of Jesus, and those who were unbaptized and thus unable to be redeemed and allowed to enter Paradise, reside eternally. Virgil explains to Dante that Limbo is where he resides as well, having both lived and died before the time of Christ. Limbo is a place of no punishment but still one of eternal separation from God’s love, and hence a place of no further hope. At the Citadel of Human Reason in Limbo, Dante finds the great humanistic philosophers in the history of philosophy: Socrates, Plato, Democritus, Diogenes, Thales, Anaxagoras, Zeno, Heraclitus, Empedocles, Cicero, and Seneca—even Euclid, Ptolemy, Hippocrates, and other figures symbolizing the great achievements of pure human reason. Because Virgil symbolizes human reason, and because of the general Medieval mindset that human reason alone cannot lead to salvation, Virgil, by definition, cannot lead Dante into Paradise.

For Dante’s journey into Paradise he must have another guide: Beatrice, Dante’s symbol of divine love. Beatrice, of course, was Dante’s principle love interest, as described in Dante’s La Vita Nuova, a collection of Dante’s poems with his own explanation of their meaning and symbolism. In La Vita Nuova, Dante recounts three key events in his interaction with Beatrice: when he first becomes enamored with her as an adolescent, when she rejects him nine years later, and Beatrice’s death at age 25. The fact that the first two events occurred at nine-year intervals, the number nine (the square of three, the number of the Holy Trinity) traditionally representing perfection, undoubtedly influenced not only Dante’s view of Beatrice as symbolic of divine love both within The Divine Comedy and in the structure of The Divine Comedy itself: nine circles of Hell, three books of 33 cantos each for a total of 99 cantos, etc.

Side note, a huge clue the the trilogy is a retelling is the format that the author used: 3 books, each has 3 parts, each part has 9 chapters…

Anyways, Gale symbolically represents man and man’s base desires. This is shown through his *slight* inability to control his sexual desire for Katniss

Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I’d spent with Gale — watching him talk and laugh and frown — that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn’t imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, “I had to do that. At least once.” And he was gone.

and through his understanding but lack of compassion for the “other” both at home

Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. If it wasn’t reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what I’m sure she thought was a harmless comment. As we walk, I glance over at Gale’s face, still smoldering underneath his stony expression.

and during wartime

At some point, Gale and Beetee left the wilderness behind and focused on more human impulses. Like compassion. A bomb explodes. Time is allowed for people to rush to the aid of the wounded. Then a second, more powerful bomb kills them as well. “That seems to be crossing some kind of line,” I say. “So anything goes?” They both stare at me — Beetee with doubt, Gale with hostility.

“They could still escape through the train tunnel to the square,” says Beetee. “Not if we blow it up,” says Gale brusquely. His intent, his full intent, becomes clear. Gale has no interest in preserving the lives of those in the Nut. No interest in caging the prey for later use.

His character is not meant to be evil or good, but morally questionable.

Katniss started in a low place and transcended to a higher level of being, from survival to living with purpose. Peeta started high with a strong sense of self and a higher level of goodness, descends with the torture and highjacking, and then ascends again after a lot of struggle. Gale's arc is static. He is basically the same from the beginning of the book to the end, and while we can imagine that everything he's gone through must have changed him in some way there's no textual evidence to support such claims.

At the beginning of THG Katniss calls him the person that knows her best. Perhaps he was, for a while, but as she goes through her arc there is a wider and wider divide between the person she started as and the person she becomes, and I'm not entirely convinced that he ever truly understood her, just as she didn't totally know herself.

When they first meet Gale basically accuses her of stealing, it takes them forever to actually trust each other enough to become friends. Their relationship starts contractually, a give and take, and the spirit of that never really changes.

He shows a lack of respect of her opinions if they don't align with his own. He tries to bring up the idea of having a family one day, and she immediately shuts him down telling him she doesn't want that. She wonders why he's bringing it up because there's never been anything romantic between them. Then later, in the arena, she admits that things have been different between them for the past six months or so, implying that he's been different. We later learn that he realized he felt jealous when other men paid attention to her.

He never tells her how he feels, but instead kisses her weeks after she returned home from a super traumatic experience telling her he HAD to do that. That kiss really bothers me, because he didn't ask first, so it feels a bit like a violation of her trust. Their kiss in District Two also really bothers me. She has not been in a good headspace and making out with a grieving depressed suicidal girl is just taking advantage, even if he does stop once he realizes she's out if it.

She tries to warn him about Snow when she returns from the Victory Tour, and later tries to warn him about the weapons and the Nut, and he refuses to take her seriously, with terrible consequences.

It feels a bit like he's holding Katniss emotionally hostage, if she refuses him he will end their friendship (or that seems to be Katniss's fear, that she'll lose him). Halfway through CF and at the end of MJ she expresses relief that he’s not there, first because he will think anything she does with Peeta will be seen as an act and therefore won't hurt him (which makes her feel guilty, because really she doesn't have romantic feelings for him) and later because of his actions in the war.

He isn’t evil, he's an asshole. By design.

#wistfulweaverwoman #gale hawthorne #divine comedies #dante #thg #meta

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