#idk if my version is canon really but to me it is and that’s what matters💓💓💓

[queer-froggit]

i'm ending it here because i'm boutta be here all day lol

ramble under the cut!!!!

lust's friend group is very tiny because everyone judges him for his job, but they're also all sanses so they're like "eh, not my problem" and really just ignore him, and even besides them lust has to work to get people to respect him. horror and lust are frenemies because they HATED each other at first sight- horror was very vocal about his prejudices and lust doesn't take shit from anybody. however, they're both old men just trying to get through their hell of a day without killing themselves, and they find common ground in that (same thing with lust and cross, except for them it's more lust teaching cross how to take himself seriously and turning into rivals instead) in my interpretation, lust dated a lot of people before realizing he was aro, with blue being his longest relationship. a lot of shit happened, but they're besties now.

horror and wine are frenemies because lthough they relate to ecah other, they do it in a "i pity you way", which pisses them both off. horror could never work for the royal guard, and i like to think horror takes his brother to move in with farm after leaving nightmare. it's basically saejun teaching him how to be a person again, and i think geno and farm would also make nice friends, since "old men who have finally learned to be content with what they have" trope. speaking of geno, i think he HATES reaper, like hate hate. i still haven't read aftertale, my only sources are analysis and pages out of order, but it just feels right to say? reaper likes pissing people off, so he sees geno as a pal because of this hate.

reaper and wine are dreams mentors, since reaper was supposed to have an appearance in dreamtale. reaper is more of a "using to learn your god powers" mentor while wine is "using your societal power", but they basically teach him that not everyone is going to want to be buddy buddy, and that's not something he should see as a failure (since they both have gone through the horrors). wine sees black as a more upbeat version of himself, but nox is always trying to be an opp, so he sees to reason to be friends. also they all hate fell because they think he's lazy and all bark yet no bite lol.

dust and fell are obviously friends in canon, but i feel like they especially relate because of their feeling of being trapped in hell and having to be guarded all the time (they're SO 30 for 30 by sza coded it's ridiculous), and if not romantic, i think that feeling can get familial. horror sees fell as a fake though, because he thinks underfell is just "undertale but they say fuck", so he thinks fell is all talk while he knows he wouldn't survive a DAY in horrortale (no one would), but dust and horror are friends, so horror forces himself to tolerate fell and give him advice about surviving (but more in a condescing tone).

sci and fell are a secret third thing because i could see them being siblings, rival friends or romantic (curse you cpau) so idk. same thinf with wine and cross because they're both royal guards who have gone through dictatorships, so they should relate to each other, but tehy're both bitches so they would probably be enemies, but them sparring would be so perfect???? maybe like a "my mentor is a bitch but it's to train me to do better", which works perfectly because cross is always trying to get people to see him as a superior, and wine always feels superior (but it's to do the same thing as cross), so wine talking down to him riles him up enough to try and beat him, and they can both let their stress out when they spar :) (they eventually realize that they've been living in a dictatorship where rheir leader has been incredibly selfish, don't worry)

swap and blueberror... idk how to explain it. i think they're very jinx and ekko coded. blueberror is the more hyper and blunt version of swap, and swap has to calm him down sometimes, but they would be besties because they bounce off of each other 👍

nightmare and ink are colleagues beacuse i said so :) ink is nightmare's equivalent of people watching video essays as background noise. also nightmare wanted to study fresh because he sees him as an anomaly (someone whose emotions he can't read, yet feels uneasy around him, depsite not knowing who he is), but then learned like one thing about him and decided not to open that can of worms. fresh just thinks nightmare is weird.

i think that's it... thank you for the chart sign!

Ship chart but it’s not a ship chart it’s a friendship/found family/QPR chart

[cheesycatz]

Parasitic worm pretends to be your valentine so you don't notice that they're the reason you have 24 days left to live

Wormton AU fic is 190k words now! : )

Nothing crazy new plot wise, more bonding and found family stuff. Obligatory fluff after how much these guys had to go through. I like describing all the sounds he makes when isn't trying to suppress them; chirps, warbles, trills, chirrs, chitters, screeches, snarls, and that weird computer whirring sound he makes that may or may not have the same connotations as purring (sorry I couldn't resist)

I'm excited to go through revisions! It's been so long since I wrote some of this stuff that I don't remember the fine details, so it's genuinely fun for me to read through. Also, I had fun making disguised wormton seem as cursed as possible without actually describing his real form until post-reveal. Blue was probably the only one who didn't think he was some deranged serial killer at first sight, which, fair enough. I was kind of worried about a few very minor original characters I added not being accepted, but then I remembered that Trashy the trash can probably has more speaking lines than any one of them and it probably isn't that big of a deal. I hope you enjoy the one chapter with these three kids putting their LPS animal dolls through the most traumatizing, heart-wrenching, dark story as we all did as children (I promise it's plot relevant and contains symbolism).

Drew some non-canon wormton stuff for Valentine’s Day. I mean, I don't know how you would send a valentine to an elusive homeless man with no official documentation of his existence. The asexually reproducing computer worm guy can't feel anything romantic, but he would love to take advantage of you—gladly accept your lovely gifts. Bro’s just teasing haha he would never inject parasitic worm larvae into your abdomen just don't go to the doctor in the next 24 days please he definitely loves you and not the worms hypothetically eating your organs

“worm.vbs” is a reference to the file type used by the ILOVEYOU worm and other old malware. I only know this because I realized that one of the official spamton valentines from last year contains its exact file name “LOVE-LETTER-FOR-YOU.TXT.vbs”. sharing this trivia because it was like the one reference in those valentines that I didn't see anyone mention back then and because it makes me feel smart

Food for thought:

Honestly, he'd be pretty scary if it weren't for his justified fear of the antivirus forces. Malworm safety is all about avoiding disembodied voices trying to lure you into alleys, so the fact that you can physically see his relatively humanoid disguised form would make him seem dangerously trustworthy. I was thinking about what would've happened if he would've gotten help from the person on the phone (probably gaster I guess? idk). He could've totally been like a cult leader manipulating people into willingly becoming hosts because it was honorable or whatever. And that could combine with the fact that their venom slightly influences the brain. And the followers would've thought he was simply dressing up as a malworm and his fall from grace would've been when they realized he was just a malworm in disguise infecting them and prolonging the invasion. I prefer what I have now; lonely hypothetically-murderous wormton is a lot more redeemable than very-murderous cult leader wormton would be. The addisons, or anyone really, would want nothing to do with him. Fun to think about! And only to think about; I'd rather focus on the version I have now.

See you next time at the big 200k 👀 chapter 3 might actually come out before my multi-book-length spamton fanfiction but don't worry I would never abandon my favorite freak of nature

yappin complete B)

[myokk]

fast sketch of my Imelda oneshot🫶💓

remembering the snow

Word count: 3.300

Rating: G/T I don’t get the difference 🧍‍♀️

Imelda Reyes has never been one to do things by halves.

Her mother always talked about the circumstances of her birth with pride: Imelda came quickly as if she were eager to get out and see the world already, screaming even before she had fully left her mother's womb, determined to leave an indelible mark on the world.

The women in their village who had assisted the birth crossed themselves, chattering to each other in quick, soft, beautiful Spanish staccato about the baby who was already unlike any they had ever seen before. Strong and healthy and beautiful, her deep brown eyes already taking in her surroundings and watching them solemnly moments after her arrival.

Her father always talked about the circumstances of her childhood: running wild and free, flying before she could walk (a source of great pride), his little shadow who peppered him with endless questions about the world. He always brought her along to his work meetings much to everyone's delight; she was with him when he was offered the enviable position of Spanish Diplomat to the British Ministry of Magic.

At the age of five, they left the beautiful sleepy village where time hadn't seemed to exist. Imelda still dreams of long, hot, dusty days playing under the shade of orange trees, going to the market every two days with her mother draped in their finest silks, sleeping and lying around during the hottest part of the day, only leaving their house once the sun left its highest point and was about to disappear behind the mountains.

The older women in the village doted on her. If she thinks hard, she can recall their beautiful, wavering voices calling out to her as she raced past them: 'ten cuidado, cariño, te vas a mancar', 'ven aquí, cielo, te quiero ver la cara tan bonita', 'mira cómo se está creciendo, se nota que va a ser una belleza de mayor'...voices filled with comfort and love. She never knew anything different then.

She's their only child. Her mother was always brushing her hair and humming, trying to get her to sit still and listen to her endless fairy tales as the sun bore down on them; her father, treating Imelda like the son he had always wished for but accepting and loving her all the same. Sometimes, her mother would let her out of the house before the sun became too strong and they would fly around the mountains and be free free free.

Arriving to Edinburgh at the age of five, Imelda hadn't even realized she didn't speak the same language as the other children around her. As with everything else, she jumped in headfirst. Her mother always jokes that she became fluent in English the second she stepped foot on Scottish soil. To Imelda, it does seem that way. She can't ever remember not speaking in the soft Scottish burr, reminiscent of the soft Spanish she had left behind and still spoke at home.

As a child, she never had problems forging relationships with whoever was around her. She was brash and inquisitive and irresistible, taking charge wherever she went. The other children flocked around her, hanging on to her every word.

It changed, though, when her mother got her cough. It started out harmless enough, a slight cough and headache before bed each night. When her mother woke up every morning, she would be fine. But going to bed early changed to going to bed even earlier and earlier until it was time to accept what the three of them were steadfastly ignoring: she was getting worse.

Imelda was nine. She remembers her mother drying her tears with gentle, soft hands, caressing her cheeks and whispering to her that it would be fine. That she wasn't gone yet: they still had time.

'No pasa nada, mi amor. Siempre estaré contigo.'

At Hogwarts, things changed even more. She was a Slytherin and proud of it, but she never quite fit in with her classmates. She wasn't one of them, hadn't grown up with them, and they made sure she knew it. Gone were the days of running wild: she turned her single-minded determination to her studies and quidditch and found herself excelling at everything she put her mind to. It all came easily to her and she had no time for anyone who could distract her.

She wasn't a complete loner. She had her quidditch teammates, her partners in various classes, but nobody she hung out with outside of classes. She always studied alone, learned alone, trained alone.

(Of course, the picture she paints to her father in owls home is much different. He has enough on his mind - a daughter struggling to make friends is a non-issue as far as Imelda is concerned. And besides: she's fine.)

Imelda was quite content with the way things were working out for her. She would never admit if she was lonely or not, and enjoyed every part of her life. Until her fifth year, when everything began to change. Gone were her rigid schedules and studying alone and discipline. A new girl was sorted into Slytherin and Imelda found she didn't hate the girl's company. The two of them laugh together at night while they braid each others' hair, Imelda teaches her Spanish, and they have started to study together.

The new student drags her around Hogwarts and Imelda finds herself actually enjoying herself and enjoying spending time with the classmates she’s spent so many years ignoring.

  This is when she meets Poppy Sweeting.

Well...Poppy swears that they met ages ago, during their first year when they were partnered together in Potions. Imelda has no recollection - that whole year was a blur - it was the year her mother succumbed to her illness - so she has to take Poppy's word for it.

She finds herself with friends for the first time in a long time. But, when the new student is running off with Sebastian doing Merlin-knows-what, things that Imelda definitely does not want to be a part of, she still finds herself seeking Poppy's company.

Poppy is sweet and fun and introverted in a way that Imelda finds familiar and comfortable: whereas Imelda turns to her studies and quidditch, Poppy often opts to spend time more time with beasts than humans. But there's something endearing about her earnestness and Imelda starts to find herself craving Poppy's calm company.

She always knows what to say when Imelda finds herself getting worked up over nothing.

  On the train home for the winter holidays, as Imelda is striding down the long corridor in search of an empty cabin where she can read and concoct fail-proof quidditch tactics, Poppy calls her over to her carriage and asks Imelda to keep her company. She only needs to ask once. There's an unfamiliar fluttering in Imelda's stomach as she sits across from Poppy and the other girl beams at her but it's...well. It's not altogether unpleasant. They play exploding snap and exchange book recommendations and laugh together and...well, if Imelda's knee brushes against Poppy's occasionally or their fingers linger as they exchange essays to look over...

She can't be blamed, can she?

A letter from Poppy arrives over the break. At the sight of Poppy's small brown owl tapping the window with the letter in its beak, Imelda's heart starts racing and she runs over to the bird, grinning like a fool, but she pauses before opening it. Her fingers tremble as they hover over the wax seal.

Imelda's father is largely absent these days, a shadow of the man she had grown up with. She's noticed the difference over the summer too, of course, but the winter always feels different. More desolate; more harsh. They're nearing the four-year anniversary of her mother's death. It's impossible to ignore the fact that losing his wife has damaged his soul irreparably, and Imelda's seeing first-hand what being deeply in love can do to a person.

Maybe she'll put the letter aside and read it tomorrow.

Tomorrow bleeds into the next day turns into one week and before she can blink the bleak winter vacation with her father has ended and she's heading back to Hogwarts.

On the train, she walks past Poppy: the two of them make eye contact but Poppy flushes and looks out the window, tucking her honey-colored hair behind her ear and Imelda moves on to the next empty carriage. She pulls out some parchment and works on revising her Charms essay. It's for the best, anyway, she tells herself. For the best that she doesn't have any distractions. Their O.W.L.s are coming up and she's determined to get an O in every subject.

  The month of January goes by in a flash. Between the insane quidditch schedule she's concocted for her team and the study sessions in the library, she keeps herself busy. The new fifth-year, her first real friend, starts to show concern for Imelda, gently trying to ask her what's going on as they braid each others' hair before bed.

Imelda doesn't want to bother her, though.

(She doesn't truly know what's the matter, anyways.)

She resolves to do a better job with keeping her emotions in check - her friend has enough on her plate, and Imelda doesn't want her to have to worry over something that's not even a problem in the first place.

She's fine.

Out of the corner of her eye in the classes she shares with Poppy, Imelda notices that she doesn't look as happy as she normally does. Her face is more pale and withdrawn; whenever Imelda's eyes flicker to her, her own gaze darts away.

  With the beginning of February come a lot of blizzards, and they make Imelda remember the first time she saw snow.

Her parents always started the story telling her that she cried and cried and cried.

They had both run over to her, covering her with warm hugs and kisses, the tiny family huddled together in this foreign place where the people looked and spoke differently, where nothing was the same and she missed the old women who would give her mazapanes whenever she ran by, missed the tiny clouds of dust that would puff up as she ran and the hazy mountains in the distance and the hot, hot sun beating down while she played in the shade of the orange trees while her mother slept away the heat. Pulling her mittened hands off of her tear-stained face and telling her 'mira cariño, mira qué bonita es la nieve. Tócala, ya verás que no pasa nada...estamos aquí contigo...'

Her tears had soon dried and she was laughing and playing in the snow and she couldn't even remember what had made her so sad in the first place.

Imelda's sad now as she stares out the window.

Her mother isn't there anymore. She has no one to turn to in this self-imposed exile.

Four years ago today.

She's hidden herself away in an alcove, curled up, arms wrapped around her knees watching the snow swirling out the window. She canceled quidditch practice today due to the storm, much to everyone's surprise. Just last week, she had forced them to train in the freezing rain and today's snowfall is mild in comparison. But...today she doesn't have the energy. She's spent so much effort pretending that everything's fine when it's not and now she's sad and alone and confused.

She doesn't hear Poppy when she comes near.

The other girl crowds into Imelda's space, pressing against her in the alcove. The two face each other, and Poppy brings a gentle hand up to Imelda's face to brush away tears she hadn't even realized were falling.

"What -" Imelda starts saying, but a fresh sob chokes her and she can't. Poppy leans forward and wraps her arms around Imelda, pulling her into a close embrace. Imelda feels everything crumbling around her and she sobs into Poppy's shoulder - Poppy whispering reassurances and smoothing her hair, cradling Imelda as she cries and cries and cries.

They don't leave the alcove for another hour, almost staying out after curfew.

  Imelda is subdued the next few days. The snow continues to fall until the whole castle looks like it's straight from one of the fairy tales her mother used to tell her as she brushed her hair. Imelda shows up for meals, shows up for classes, shows up in the study group, but she feels like she's just going through the motions.

She can tell her friend is getting worried, but Imelda can't confide in her. Her friend does small gestures anyways because she understands: saving Imelda a seat in class, asking her about quidditch, saving her favorite muffins for her at breakfast.

Maybe she talked to Sebastian about her worry because even he is being nicer than normal to Imelda, asking her if she wants to play wizarding chess with the two of them. Imelda doesn't really understand how or why they like playing the game so much - her friend is awful at it and Sebastian seems to enjoy the destruction and chaos more than actually strategizing. Even though Imelda hates the game - every move is painfully obvious and she can't understand how nobody else sees it like she does - maybe it would be nice to do something different.

Imelda freezes when they enter the Astronomy Tower to play: Poppy is there, waiting. For her. They haven't seen each other since she broke down humiliated and sobbing and she doesn't know what to do.

Sebastian looks between the two of them, brows furrowed, then leans down to their friend and whispers something in her ear. She nods and the two of them disappear, leaving Imelda and Poppy alone.

Poppy stands and Imelda can feel her heart start to hammer against her throat. Poppy walks forward slowly, only stopping when she's right in front of Imelda. When she speaks, her voice is high and sweet and Imelda realizes how much she missed her. "I-I'm sorry, I just didn't know how else I could talk to you. Will you come with me? I have something to show you."

Imelda nods mutely and Poppy takes her hand. They lace their fingers together and it's the first time - apart from a few days ago - that they have voluntarily touched each other. She feels Poppy's fingers tighten around hers and Imelda focuses on the feeling of soft knuckles under her thumb, but now...she's self-conscious for the first time about her quidditch-rough hands and maybe she should have listened to her friend when she tried to encourage Imelda to use some hand lotion.

Maybe Poppy will let go of her hand and leave in disgust.

But...Poppy doesn't do any of that. Every so often, she looks up at Imelda, smiling slightly. When they reach the Entrance Hall, she lets go of Imelda's hand and Imelda feels its loss with a pang.

Poppy opens the bag at her side and pulls out two huge yellow and black Hufflepuff scarves. As she's reaching up to wrap one around Imelda, she whispers: "sorry, I only have these. But yellow looks good on you."

Both of them flush and smile at each other and Imelda doesn't know how long they stand before Poppy grabs her hand again, making sure their fingers are laced, and then they are heading out.

Poppy looks more and more excited the closer they get to the Forbidden Forest, but Imelda's never set foot even remotely close to the forest, and she feels quite apprehensive at first. But, Poppy's excitement is exhilarating - Imelda can feel it rolling off of her in waves and despite herself, she begins to feel excited too. They still haven't spoken since leaving Hogwarts, but it's a comfortable silence. Imelda's glad for the scarf - their breath is puffing out in soft clouds as they breathe and it's quite cold - the freezing temperatures in Scottish winters are still something she's never quite gotten used to.

Their boots crunch through the snow-filled landscape - it's nearing dusk and the sky is turning a brilliant shade of orange and pink, but it gets obscured by the tree branches the further into the Forbidden Forest they venture, the golden light only showing in bursts now.

"Almost there," Poppy says breathlessly. She beams up at Imelda, whose breath catches at the sight, before turning back and pulling her faster and faster until they stop in a clearing. They've stopped in the middle, and Imelda looks around.

Here, they can actually see the sky and it is breathtaking in its beauty - the gnarled, naked trees around them twisting and reaching up as if they could try and grasp some of the beauty for themselves. The snow is perfectly smooth and untouched except for the footprints that the two of them have just left. Apart from that, the clearing is nondescript.

This is what Poppy had been so excited to show her?

Poppy gives no explanation for why she brought Imelda to the Forbidden Forest, but she's almost quivering in excitement - Imelda can feel the tension in the hand that's clutching hers tightly. The sun sets lower and lower, the two of them watching it as the colors around them start to fade and mute and then -

Poppy gasps in delight.

There -

A small, dancing, brilliant white light sparks to their left and disappears just as quickly.

"Look," Poppy whispers. Imelda glances over to her - she can barely make out her face in the dimming light, but Poppy seems to be glowing with happiness.

There - again -

More and more of the brilliant white lights appear, glowing and flickering on and off, and moving in almost a pattern, dancing around their heads. Imelda laughs as she watches the tiny creatures fly around them. It's magical and beautiful and -

"I found the snow sprite nest a few weeks ago, when the blizzards started, and I've been observing them since then. I...I wanted to show you and tell you about them the second I found out because I haven't stopped thinking about you but after...well, you know...I just wanted to cheer you up..."

Poppy trails off, looking uncertain when Imelda doesn't say anything in response.

She can't, even though she desperately wants to. Her mouth goes dry as she looks to the girl at her side, who has done all of this, for her.

Poppy looks impossibly lovely in the glow of the snow sprites, as they dance and spark around their heads in a beautiful waving pattern and Imelda doesn't even think as her hand goes to Poppy's cheek. Poppy stops rambling as she looks up into Imelda's eyes.

Then, before she can lose her nerve, Imelda leans forward and presses her lips to Poppy's. It's only the lightest of touches, but her heart is beating so quickly and Merlin, she can't believe she just did that. She quickly retreats, face flaming, but before she can get away Poppy reaches up to cup Imelda's cheeks with both hands and she pulls her forward, her mouth greedy, desperate, as they finally kiss.

When they finally pull away, breathing heavily as their foreheads rest against each other, Imelda can't help the huge smile that's threatening to split her face open. It mirrors the expression she sees on Poppy, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed and she is just so lovely that Imelda can't help but lean forward and capture her mouth again. Their lips mold to each other and it's the culmination of all of their stolen glances, touches, secret wishes.

Imelda Reyes has never been one to do things by halves, after all.

[bluebunnysart]

I did some Papercraft today 'cuz I saw someone else's Papercraft Miku and Teto and immediately wanted my own Negidrill to have on my desk at all times.

Link for Miku template

Link for Teto template

I didn't know a Neru one existed until AFTER I left the library (printed them out there 'cuz my at-home printer sucks) so I think I'll try to make Neru sometime to complete Triple Baka.

Link for Neru template (and many others)

THIS tutorial was super helpful for making Miku but Teto didn't have one. Therefore I messed up her drills a little at first but I'm just glad that she's complete and not a disaster, hahaha. xD

This is my first time making Papercraft characters and it's fun. Unfortunately Miku and Teto's heads easily fall off so there's no way I can do stop motion animation with them or anything or move them around too much, but I enjoyed this. They're cute. ^^

Their arms being outstretched like that was a total accident and how the paper itself wanted to bend, so I took the opportunity to make them touch hands lmao. They probably can't get any closer than that without dying (their heads falling off) though LOL. Idk what else to pose them doing but they'll definitely chill on my desk full-time I think.

Btw Mesmerizer Papercraft definitely exists and I even saw "Who Knows" Teto, and someone also made SV Teto. So if I'm motivated I might print those out and build them too. ^^ (You should try it. It takes like an hour or more per character and after the first time, it's straightforward to do.)

[fabdante]

honestly ok im not done with this asdfghjk and im not making it it's own post so i can open myself up to argument. i don't feel like i've read the book enough times to really make an argument that isn't a lot of rambling, you know?

but like i went into wuthering heights aware some people theorized heathcliff being brown. it was one of the many straws that broke the camels back for me. i found this intriguing.

i did not anticipate that it was just a legit piece of canon that is brought up incredibly often that large swaths of people just ignore (or worse, argue vehemently against) because he himself does not state clearly and with certainty his ethnicity, a thing that would not happen in the narrative because its not even in his perspective. on the contrary the novel is, largely, in the perspective of people who don't particularly care to find out what heathcliffs race actually is because they are just satisfied knowing he is other. i don't think it occurred to nelly once that he, perhaps, had his own culture and language before being taken here and that he is aware he's not the son of indian and chinese royalty. she doesn't ask. neither does lockwood.

however, i thought about this a lot. and it's under the cut

disclaimer: i've only read wuthering heights once and while i am sure it has entered my yearly reread list (which will only deepen my thoughts and analysis), this is literally just my impressions after my first reading of the book. some things may be misremembered, or perhaps further mused on upon a reread. some things i would have liked more specifics, if this was a real essay (like the exact number of times heathcliff is suggested to be romani, or how often he's compared to animals vs how often everyone else is). this is a post i wrote over the course of several weeks on tumblr.com and it reads like one.

we are confronted with numerous characters assuming what race heathcliff is and its usually not white, and it's certainly ethnicities that would be other to the people around him.

like its baffling to me how much of this conversation is taken up by the hand full of times he's described as dark skinned, a fair argument but easy to argue against because of the time he's also described in a fit of colorful language to be paler then the wall behind him. that and like, the way he's described as dark is also in line with how the term dark was used at the time by brontës contemporaries (though i personally don't think that's all she meant by referring to heathcliff specifically). it's easy to argue against the constant descriptions of his dark hair and dark eyes and dark skin as emily brontë, perhaps, trying to suggest he is just over all a dark, imposing character tying into theories that heathcliff is a literal demon (some people suggest this?). now, don't get me wrong, i agree with the assessment that regardless of the metaphor heathcliff is like a darker skinned guy with black hair and black eyes however it's the type of evidence that's much easier to argue against rather then him, repetitively, having characters pull the 'lmao what are you???' question or how intrinsically his race is tied into the plot and his character.

like, i said it reminds me of booker dewitt at one point in my many ramblings and let me explain. booker is often assumed to be white but but he is actually mixed race and is both white and indigenous. and while one can argue semantics about skin color and what not i feel the much stronger evidence to this canon fact is stuff like idk the fact he speaks at least one of the lakota/dakota/nakota language families fluently, doesn't recognize bible verses when they're quoted at him, has slurs thrown at him in earlier versions of the game we have footage of (implying other characters assume he is native american), has another universe version of himself who has found himself center of a phrenology study trying to prove he's native american, and, oh, the time another character straight up tells us about the time booker lost his shit at 16 because people were being racist to him and decided the best course of action would be to become participant in his own genocide to try and make himself himself appear whiter to avoid scrutiny before this fails horribly and he is now haunted by the fact he is participant in the genocide he is also victim of. this is the thing that haunts him, this is the thing that is chasing him, this is why he knows being made 'clean' in the eyes of a god that was forced upon him will not absolve him of the blood on his hands. bookers entire character is heavily influenced by this. like if we look at the time period and craft a probable history for what creates a booker dewitt, the influence of generational trauma and current trauma and just the impact of living in world where he is never truly a part like becomes very clear on his character and other characters around him. like booker is a character who deserved better writing from a writing team more willing to put time into communicating this story, but the seeds are all there.

like the reasons we know booker dewitt is indigenous outside of ken levines word of god statement are things like this that have clear and evident impact on his character and the world of the story. i argue the same is in wuthering heights. like yes, there are descriptions of heathcliff that line up with this to. but the crucial, crucial thing is how him not being white impacts the narrative and him.

but like i mean sure we can fall back on those vague descriptors i guess and argue back and forth about what exactly emily brontë meant because some people just don't want to accept that heathcliff isn't white and can pretend that descriptions of his dark skin aren't actually about him having dark skin.

there's this segment in which heathcliff laments about how he doesn't look like the blonde haired, blue eyed, pale edgar linton. there's another when he meets his son and is essentially like 'lmao why's it white?'. there's the numerous, numerous other people around him constantly throwing their best theory into the ring on what they think his race is which is almost always romani, often indian, and in one time occurrences each, chinese, american, and spanish.

literally when taken in by the earnshaws he doesn't even speak english. nelly, being a white woman from the area who likely has very limited exposure to other languages due to her class and limited education and limited time anywhere that isn't her direct local area, just assumes he's speaking gibberish. but idk perhaps the boy described as indian and romani didn't speak fucking english yet

and this all plays into the themes as well?

like a large theme of this novel is the way cathy and heathcliff do not quite feel they belong here but they feel a belonging and acceptance with each other, a large motivator behind their mutual obsession. (i'm getting to the resentment give me a moment) they understand the abuse they both experienced, they understand what the other wants (freedom, essentially), they understand how they both feel isolated and alone, etc etc. and part of that for heathcliff is clearly how he is othered by everyone else despite being the favorite son, despite how he tried to fit into the social trappings around him. its part of why he laments about edgar. because he recognizes, despite his age, that he's being treated differently because he does not look like edgar. sure it's, as with most things, a very cathy motivated thought i think. the threat that edgar will take all her attention, leaving heathcliff truly alone. hell he even kind of says that when he confronts cathy that one time and is like 'hey, you hang out with him so much more' and we, the reader, know under that he's saying 'and you are leaving me alone with these people'. but back in this moment with nelly he pinpoints rather accurately that edgar has an easier time because he's white. and heathcliff is not. and he can do the song and dance, he even tries to do the song and dance, but he can't become white. he can never just become white.

i think to this plays into the resentments between cathy and heathcliff. she resents that he's not white, that it makes this simple thing very complex, that in her eyes it's part of what makes him beneath her and no one is going to see him as being at the same level as her, that she feels so much belonging and what not with this person seen as other. like its very 'recognition of the self in the other (derogatory)' and i think he similarly resents these things in reverse, right? he resents that he's seen this way, that she might see him this way, that this simple thing is complicated when it should not be. and also, again, that this game is so much easier for cathy to play. she's white, she blends in, she's free to do things he is not because he has to give so much more to be even considered remotely human. and it's frustrating. because he is cathy, after all. except for the part where he's not. because for as much love as there is here, they're two abused kids who speak a similar language here and are angry with each other as well as the world.

like i just the way he's treated to like nelly, being presumably white, seems to assume all of heathcliffs mistreatment comes from him being ill behaved and insane which i mean sure some of it is because he constantly misbehaves and he doesn't want to be controlled and follow rules he doesn't like.

but isn't it a bit...idk...telling that no one really argues with hindley when he decides to make his adoptive brother his servant?

like people find it shitty when heathcliff does that to hearton, the white boy.

but when heathcliff spends years upon years doing all the barn work and getting whipped by his brother and being forced to live in the shitty attic with no access to heating like...the lintons, despite cathys bad behavior, give her an opportunity to 'grow' (force her into a box of polite society which she does not like but falls into anyway). they don't do that to heathcliff, they write him off immediately. their pity begins and ends with cathy who they identify as an unfortunate girl in an unfortunate family who is being raised poorly, despite the fact heathcliff is raised in the exact same conditions and misbehaving in the exact same way. the biggest differences are cathy is white and a girl, and heathcliff is brown and a boy.

like im just saying does the narrative need to spell it out for you?

are you that incapable of reading between the lines when it is literally that obvious.

like ignoring all these little nuances that perhaps i read into or misremember due to my bias here, the fact he clearly looks not white enough for everyone to constantly suggest he's not white implies that...just maybe...maybe that heathcliff is brown

i also wonder how much of this unwillingness for heathcliff to be brown is 'oh but he's a shitty person' and our current movement is to create these pure, stainless, people of color in our fiction. heathcliff is not that. he's the antithesis to that (though more on that later). he's a shitty, miserable person who makes himself more miserable and suffers in a tragedy he himself largely created. though i argue the story ends well for him (i mean he dies happily in cathys room and gets to haunt the moors with her forever in absolute freedom and bliss like that's literally what he wanted he got what he wanted), deserving it to end well for him or not, he's not this picture perfect representation that audiences crave before ripping something apart because they cannot understand that marginalized people do not have one uniform experience or needs from our media.

who cares that he's shitty when he's complex and an adaptation that actually represents him as he is would only make him more complex and interesting and do justice to the narrative emily brontë was trying to craft? it wouldn't necessarily revaluate the narrative, but rather bring to light this element of it which is so often neglected.

emily brontë was trying to make complex people with complex motivations and interests, which often lead them down self destructive paths. which sure, makes them shitty. but it makes them interesting and heathcliffs race is part of what makes him interesting and complex. the way his race and understanding of it balance with his understanding of himself and the people around him and the trappings of the society he's in. like it's such a large part of why he behaves like he does and why people behave how they do around him.

like we can all agree heathcliff is the monster these people created. he became the thing he was told he is because it is what he was told he is. again to bring up booker dewitt, booker is the monster that everyone created by telling him what he is and what he is worth is the violence he can commit so violence booker dewitt becomes. heathcliff, similarly, is told through this narrative by so many of these people that he is lesser, that no matter what he does he is not them. so what he does is go on a revenge quest to become them, to return the favor back to them, to take what he's decided will now be his because he was told he does not deserve it. and here's the thing. here's the thing about it. he kind of wins.

like don't get me wrong his revenge quest makes him miserable and could have been avoided and he did a lot of horrible things on that quest. but he did it, right? he got wuthering heights. he got thrushcross grange. he fucked with everyone's lives. and like sure it catches up to him mentally, but he dies in this success right? that he did the thing he wanted and everyone's miserable. and then he dies. and he dies happily because he gets to run off with cathy in the afterlife doing whatever the fuck forever and always like both of them wanted. like he literally gets everything he wanted in the narrative. eventually.

anyway

denying his race just feels...short sighted? missing the point?

and like i mean ok sure one time he's described as spanish and the actor they got for him is spanish. that's cool. that's great.

but i have to question why we went with the guy who fits exactly one off handed description of heathcliff from a line where he's also, once again, suggested to be indian and also american (it's all in the same sentence the speaker, unsure, suggests heathcliff is all three spanish isn't even a heathcliff race suggestion that gets it's own line)

another thing I've noticed repeated time and time again is 'well, sure, Heathcliff could be a person of color. but that's less important than divides such as class and-' and I'm not going to pretend I'm like deeply aware of the intricacies of late 1700s, early 1800s race relations and concepts in England. However I also feel like this is...really misunderstanding race but also misunderstanding the novel, which, again, makes it clear that Heathcliff's race factors into things. he doesn't get upset that Edgar is white and he's not because he feels equal to Edgar minus the fact he's poor. people don't suggest he's races that are not white because they view Heathcliff as equal.

when cathy and heathcliff meet the lintons, its because they were both behaving badly and spying on them. this gets the dogs to attack cathy as they try to run away. naturally they take her inside and heathcliff follows. much is said about his race during this time. then heathcliff proceeds to make himself look Very Bad in front of them after their dog attacked cathy (though, again, they're very quick to kick him out super late and make him go home and keep white cathy for six straight weeks). when cathy comes back, now the 'proper' lady the lintons made her into, she comments that heathcliff, described routinely with dark skin unlike the pale lintons, is dirty. he does not like this. its hard not to see a connection for him to the fact his skin is brown, and hers is not, and nor is edgar lintons. the lintons are invited to dinner at one point and they make it clear they do not want to interact with heathcliff, so heathcliff is sent away and has his whole 'linton is white and going to steal cathy' meltdown to nelly. who then proceeds to try and calm him down and is like 'we'll fix this by cleaning you up and making you look presentable and they'll have to let you to dinner'. so she does, she cleans him up and does his hair and gives him a pep talk and tells him to behave and she sends him out to the dinner. to which he is met with immediate and immense backlash when he hasn't even done anything beyond try to fit into the game.

he can wash himself as much as he likes, but heathcliff can never truly become 'clean', can he?

there's this idea, historically and otherwise, that dark skin itself is 'unclean'. that one is dirty for having it. its a common racist tactic. if you just scrub enough, you can become paler. if you're bad, your skin will become darker. bleach yourself so you look more innocent. the bad guys with blood on their hands are brown and black and dark and the good guys are pale and white.

perhaps emily brontë is a product of her time and she to saw heathcliffs dark skin as evidence of his bad behavior, as something unclean. (though, again, i'd argue she has him ultimately 'win'. he ultimately succeeds at the thing he wants. his actions are not forgiven or really justified but emily brontë still has him win)

but in our discussion its hard for me not to see such examples of this and not think that race is a huge factor in heathcliffs behaviors and world view. after all, when people look at him, they're not suggesting directly that he's poor in bafflement. they're suggesting hes romani or indian or chinese or whatever else.

the 2011 adaptation i think really puts this in the forefront because it becomes impossible to ignore the elephant in the room here. their heathcliff is black, and everyone else is white. characters use slurs the audience recognizes as slurs rather than words they don't understand are slurs. when cathy comments that heathcliff is dirty off handedly before realizing what she's said, we see him and his brown skin and understand why he is upset the one person who doesn't treat him differently has suddenly said something like that to him. sure there's an element here that cathy has changed and he's scared she's changed, that she no longer loves her moors and wants to run around outside with him forever in them. but the other element of change is that she might see him as lesser, as innately unclean.

like yes class is an element here but to pretend race is not when it so clearly is is...bizarre to me? particularly because class and race are connected and seem deliberately so here. like cathy is allowed to marry up, she is allowed to change class, she can do that quite easily. heathcliff, though, to change class has to run off for a period of three years doing who knows what and he is STILL not respected as being another class when he returns. now I'm sure one could argue 'oh it's because of his personality-' and like sure heathcliff is still very heathcliff like it's not like he's become super personable or anything. but like...neither are a lot of wealthy white men.

also, again, the narrative is very clear. cathy is heathcliff, heathcliff is cathy. they are two sides of the same coin. they are one thing. they are one codependent thing with very similar character traits except cathy is a white girl and heathcliff is a brown boy, which impacts the presentation of these very similar character traits.

we have to question in the text why heathcliff is so unpersonable and the answer goes back to the any time we see him try to play the game and he's immediately shut out. like why should he want to play into this polite society when the polite society has made it very clear no matter what he does, he will not belong here. his wealth is desirable, he is not. the text is asking you to ask why that is and the answer isn't just because heathcliff kinda sucks. because like hindley also sucks, mr earnshaw also sucks. sucking is not a uniquely heathcliff trait in this novel if anything most of the characters suck.

the why this is largely is yes, a response to trauma. cathy and heathcliff and even hindley like all carry the same trauma from their upbringing. but an element of this trauma for heathcliff is the racism. is the way his race plays into othering him, separating him, isolating him. the way his race exasperates that abuse, how it enables further abuse (like hindley turning him into a servant, for example).

i think there's something to be said about horror and discomfort, right? and like wuthering heights isn't necessarily horror like its gothic, its a gothic romance, but it's not necessarily horror despite the gothic and horror like being sisters but like. i do think there's something to be said about the fact wuthering heights wants to be discomforting. it clearly was if you look at reviews of the time and how clearly, clearly it made charlotte uncomfortable to the point where she allegedly burned emily's second manuscript (im not forgiving her for this) and i don't know i don't know if emily meant for this race element to be discomforting in the way i find it as an arab american reader. but i did find it uncomfortable in the way horror is. like i found it very akin to watching a horror film and sitting there wishing the main character just runs or turns around because the slasher killer is right there. it's the perpetual feeling of knowing you are the only brown person in the room and not knowing what that's going to mean at any moment.

i often write little vent posts i delete about this book because i have much to say and much frustration about this denial of heathcliffs brownness that i ultimately decide not to burden others with asdfghjk but in one of them i had a thought.

there's article after article trying to justify heathcliffs white washing in the adaptations where they insist he has to be white or that his brownness is only a suggestion and no one really meant it when they said he looks Romani or Indian or Chinese. and i have to wonder like why is it so important that he is white? does this whiteness impact the narrative? does it change it? is it important to it?

i'd argue the whiteness of cathy and edgar and isabelle and hindley is important to the narrative. it's an extension of how they fit into society, into how they are welcomed to it, as part of their class and their wealth or their ability to just squander that wealth. it's an extension of how they are treated by each other and others, like cathy being brought in and 'civilized' by the lintons for example.

on the contrary, the whiteness of someone like nelly, a character we presume is white due to setting and what not, isn't particularly relevant. it plays no strong element to her story, what race she is, outside perhaps who she chooses to sympathize with.

and see if heathcliff is white...what does that change? a lot of the impact is gone, in my opinion. a lot of the the tensions we see here are alleviated. suddenly the only thing separating him from the society around him is the money he does or doesn't have. suddenly the only factor in his isolation is himself.

if he's brown, though, in whatever way he is...that's a lot more relevant, isn't it?

it's a lot more relevant to the themes, to the story that's happening and the one that happened. he's no longer the only factor here, it's the fact he is in the outgroup and everyone else is in the ingroup and no matter what he does he cannot change his skin. he can't out wealth his skin. he can't escape the way everyone else views him.

it's a lot more uncomfortable to for a society unwilling to look its own racism in the face, isn't it? which is odd to say about a story that regardless of race is entirely uncaring on if it's uncomfortable or not. it wants to be uncomfortable, actually. i refer to watching wuthering heights 2011 as a 'gaping wound' and this is why. it's uncomfortable and it's supposed to be.

idk i just keep tacking segments onto this very long essay because i'm just baffled, you see. im baffled at how this element of this character which is SO OBVIOUS and so RELEVANT to the story being told is just...so ignored? so white washed? perhaps it's just because it was one of the things that made me read the book? because it was i will admit. like i wanted to know. i wanted to know how obvious it was and i came away baffled because it literally only stopped short of having heathcliff turn to the camera and say 'by the way im :insert race here:' like i don't know how emily bronte could have been more clear.

i don't understand.

i hope i have gotten across why i don't understand.

in princess weekes video on heathcliff she notes that, while he is most likely meant to be romani or indian but probably romani, it doesn't exactly matter what specific race heathcliff is what matters is that he is how he is othered and treated due to this race. i think this is mostly a fair assessment because while i do see credence to the argument of the fact he should be played by an actor of the race he is like...most likely to be, nothing significant changes about the narrative if he's romani or indian or black or arab (some have gone for arab heathcliff and i support it despite the book having no backing for this asdfghjk) or so on and so forth what matters is he is a person of color. while how we in the modern day understand that is a little different then emily bronte did when writing the novel, what matters is he is brown.

and yet. every single adaptation. save for the 2011 one. fail to make him brown. i don't understand.

tldr: why the fuck is heathcliff white in almost every adaptation when he so clearly is not if you just read the book good lord

anywho supplemental videos i forgot to add:

the day rue became black by yhara zayd (there was also something from her candyman video i meant to quote after rewatching but forgot to do so also watch that one because sure why not, it was something from her discussion about how its not racist to have characters of color who kinda suck or are villainous or what not but in general everyone should be watching yhara zayd)

heathcliff isn't white by princess weekes

"while under the influence of Wuthering Heights" that's really a real phenomena huh like that's a real thing that just happens to you after you read wuthering heights

[strohller27]

Yes Hello to all my fellow Miss Lemon fans out there:

If you love her as much as I do, then 6.2 Hickory Dickory Dock is the episode for you

Now let us all just take a moment out of our busy day to bask in her glory:

That coat with those hats?? ICONIC she has such a flawless style

and this little scene where she's like 'this is just a quirk of Mr. Poirot's, don't worry about it' fellas help she's so cute

also HELP lads she took Poirot's comment about Inspector Japp's 'healthy appetite' way too literally!! LEMON SOLE! she's so funny aagh

Also she looks really damn good in burgundy wow

Also you know I hate the trope where guys tell ladies to take their glasses off and let their hair flow in the wind because they'd somehow be 'sexier' or whatever. That is just simply not true. Case in point: Look at how cute Miss Lemon is in her glasses!!

Just. Everyone just. Look at my favourite girl. Look at her!!! Her filing system is perfect! Her filing system could kick your ass!!!

[britneyshakespeare]

I can't believe the Younger Brother (1689) by Aphra Behn has the only one bed trope

[windupaidoneus]

but like i had it lined up how emet would return in my mind palace. you know. i had it allll lined up. & now im like. fuck. i gotta be real i think hed probably mold his appearance to not look like solus anymore im not sure hed rock with associating himself with that anymore after being freed from zodiark's thrall this is a little much. you know

[phoenixcatch7]

The problem I'm having with one of my stories is that it is compelling - but not clicking.

It's a sephiroth gets reincarnated into mdzs. Straightforward. I've got several branching paths: lwj, jc, nmj (my personal fave) and the jade twins (one mind in two bodies). All five of them have great potential, but for some reason my heart is set on sephiroth!lwj, because the aesthetic is sublime.

But! It's! Not! Working!

My main problems are a) despite similar surfaces, sephiroth has fundamentally different morals and life experiences to lwj and lwjs morals are a huge part of his and wwx's stories. B) I can't NOT have wangxian. I don't ship often at all, but when I do I'm pretty set on it lol. I don't want to deny soulmates. Unfortunately I HATE writing romance. C) I do not think sephiroth should be in any sort of romantic relationship at all nor can I see him wanting one. I've read tons of fics where he is in relationships (healthy or otherwise) and they're amazing, yes, but... Under my pen it's just not in the cards. And I do feel pairing him with wwx would just amplify wwx's worst traits, which is the opposite of what lwj does for him.

Everything's in conflict, but the lure of sephiroths second childhood in strict gusu and his complicated feelings about it, wwx being a perfect mix of all his important people with a spine of steel and righteousness that they all lost as everything fell apart, the relationship between sephiroth and his new mother, and how he'd inexplicably lose her too, the white on white aesthetic, the older identical brother, the cruel angels aesthetic with the benevolent demon, the angst of wwx's defection and death, his relationship with qi as a planet's overflowing life force, the tragedy of the mourning angel, monster x monster.... It calls to me.

But there's also the way wwx becoming a demonic cultivator was so vital to winning the war, and the way that affected things, gave him a legitimacy. Involve the silver soldier, and well. Everything else becomes a little extraneous lol. And sephiroth himself is such a big mover and shaker, I don't know what I could do to manage that without wiping out 80% of the remaining jianghu after the burial mounds siege with sephiroth appointing himself king lmao. He's not the kind of person to make small ripples, you know?

And I'd love a twin jades au to sort of turn the chaos inwards a bit (nmj and jgy would be Excellent foils) but again, I can't separate wangxian and imagining scenes feels a bit too close to incest for my tastes, even when it's ONE PERSON in identical bodies!

It's frustrating, wanting to write a non romance fic set in a love story lol. I just. I hate writing romance. But wangxian just don't want to be parted.

But the image of lwj in the xuanwu cave secretly covering a feverish wwx with his wing, only to notice a handful of white feathers pushing through the black as he unknowingly becomes a better person through showing care for other people, shaking his own deep belief that he is a horrible irredeemable creature incapable of love. Caught in an act of love. Hnggh.

Any ideas?!

[loderlied]

posting on here is like my sisyphean boulder i'm constantly rolling tbh

[sonknuxadow]

I believe that IF Silver IS a descendent of Sonic/Shadow/Amy/anyone else, he's a descendent via adoption because the only Sonic character that I accept having kids is Vanilla.

honestly part of the reason im not a fan of the ideas of silver being a descendant of other characters we already know is because i just dont see why its necessary for them to be related ..? idk i just dont think anything that could be gained from him being shadows kid or sonics descendant or whatever is worth losing part of whats already compelling about silver and also making things super confusing. plus none of the pairings of already existing characters people have suggested as silvers bio parents make any sense, usually because its impossible from a timeline perspective but also because theyre always picking characters who would NOT have kids either in general or with the specific people theyre being paired with

[waywardsalt]

ive spent like 20 minutes trying to world this eloquently but i give up; im a big fan of linebeck just. not being capable of watching over kids not the person to be the guardian of a group of young people he struggles to take care of himself at times and has so much shit going on that it takes about one conversation with oshus for the old man to realize that this guy is. not doing great

[orcelito]

Honestly I have realized that 99% of my shipping of vashwood comes from trimax. Yea I vibed with it while watching tristamp but trimax is what took my utter heart and soul

It's to the point where I just don't rly enjoy tristamp vashwood that much anymore hfkshfjd like. OK? Those sure are some dudes. Not My dudes tho, sorry.

[tellie-vision-art]

Wanting more Priyaxel content but also knowing if I want it that badly I will have to make it myself bc it feels like no one actively ships it/makes content for it anymore 😭

I feel like a loser here in my corner hyped up over something no one else cares about and I’m kinda embarrassed about it 😩 like I have thoroughly convinced myself now that I am dumb for shipping it bc no one sees it like I do and people are perceiving me as weird and overdramatic about it 😔

[greyedian]

ok ok fuck it I'm gonna try to be brave and actually work on Sterling and Gale's whole uhhhh situation bc I started a new bg3 run with my friend so now they're back occupying my brain. Again. Sooo... *carefully opens document*

[fail-front-door]

Bading ding! Ding ding! Bading!