intro—very much under construction! thank you for your patience!
helloooo!!!!!!! i am heathcliff's (both limbus AND wuthering heights!) most vehement hater of all time—much content here will be around him. call me habenya, also formerly known as i8lithiumbatteryhelp, now coming back from the dead. meow.
i draw sometimes and write mostly angst/horror heathcliff x readers because there's. like. nothing for him. the land is BARREN and the soil is INFERTILE. it's truly heartbreaking!!!!
please don't repost or copy my works. if you would like to use my art for something, i also ask that you credit me. oke that's all
other accounts
⤷ main blog (it's all just reposts)
⤷ ao3
byf/dni and request info
primary fandoms i'll write for
⤷ limbus company
⤷ original works
secondary fandoms
⤷ mystic messenger
⤷ higurashi: when they cry (currently on 4th chapter)
⤷ vinland saga
⤷ needy streamer overload
⤷ saya no uta
⤷ zero escape series
⤷ identity v
tag list
⤷ yappenya ✭ posts that aren't writing/art
⤷ heathcliff hatepost ✭ trashing on him cause BOO
⤷ habanswers ✭ responses to asks
⤷ habenyart ✭ art
⤷ writernya ✭ writing
⤷ habenrecs ✭ works i love and think you might too!
⤷ yumenya posting ✭ very rare yume content
house of spiders: the middle nursefather outis masterlist
headcanons
⤷ ?
one/twoshots
⤷ Hands off the private property, will you?
Outis wants to make sure that your career as a streamer goes swimmingly. Sometimes that means she has to make decisions that you might not really be okay with.
Have you seen whitecliff on the newest limbus merch omg
GOD STOP WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE THAT😭😭😭 i unfortunately have, anon. I wish i hadnt. Pmoon is making it so unbelievably common for artists to whitewash their characters and it really irks me because why is OFFICIAL MERCH struggling to get skin tones right.
This isnt even the first time they screwed over that bad, cause tfym i spent $30 on a japanese exports site just to get jumpscared by white telepole. What. What. Pmoon lock in vro
i just realized. why do i write so much modern au telepole heathcliff where it's strongly implied you're his (usually abusive) master and he's like stupid pathetic codependent and needy. oh no. oh no
Biting the hand that feeds you just to nuzzle the one that slaps you right after?
✎ Ch. 1: To learn
✎ a/n. i wrote this several months ago while being egregiously horny and i'm just now rereading it. oh god oh god what is this. sorry guys i'm into masochists a normal amount
✎ pairing // telepole heathcliff/gn reader
✎ desc. // Telepole is the only thing that's on my mind and I can't move onto doing the things I actually need to finish unless I get this done. I have like 9 things on my to-do list and Heathcliff fucking CLAWED his way to the top as if I don't have actual urgent business to tend do. What the hell. Kill me
Insert good description here that's supposed to make this hot—you're both toxic to each other and he really likes your legs, and that's… kind of it. Also: you're a bit of an ass.
✎ tags // modern au, roommates, codependency, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, yandere, abuse, stockholm syndrome, no romance, collars, petplay, ownership, masochism (it's heathcliff), writing exercise, unreliable narrator
⚠︎ WARNING ⚠︎ // this work contains smut, depictions of self-harm, and dub-con themes
"Down. Roll over. Paw. Ah… good. You've improved so much, Heathcliff."
I don't have time to waste, so let's put this bluntly: Heathcliff needs you to live. This doesn't just mean "he would strongly prefer you not die", but also "he relies on you to give him stability and will mentally, emotionally, and financially shatter at your disappearance, whether real or imagined". Is this hot to you? Maybe. Who knows. Sometimes it's kind of annoying—anyone would expect a grown man like him to know how to provide for himself, but whatever. You find yourself benefiting from this admittedly perverse power imbalance at times, so you tolerate it.
"Haa…" he sighs, nuzzling into your hand when you pat him. "Cheer— a-ahem. I mean… thank you…"
Clap!
Strictly speaking, you're his roommate; his name is also on the lease of this apartment, and not as a pet. Worst decision ever. EVER. EVER!!! NEVER AGAIN. At the time, you were just grateful to learn that a dirty creature like him from the streets knows how to read and lift up a pen in the first place, and some might be wondering, how could be afford to pay the security deposit despite coming from a poor background? Well, he didn't. You covered that for him. You also cover the electricity, water, A/C, grocery, and internet bills too, since most jobs aren't very keen on hiring someone so… Heathcliff. If that wasn't enough, when you come home tired and worn out from a busy day at work, you also have to be the one to sate all of his temper tantrums that he'd often throw one way or another. If he's sulking and brooding in a corner somewhere, you have to be the one to console him lest someone wants to pay a fee for damaged property. If he wants to play games, you play games with him. If he's acting needy and wants attention, you give him attention. Then, since he despises being kept in such an enclosed environment for long periods of time, you have to let him out to go on walks. Ah, but who would trust someone like him to be well-mannered when even the mildest threat (and trust me, there are plenty of that for wolves like him) is enough to set him off? He'd probably murder someone who breathed at him wrong if his mood was foul enough. No, he has to be supervised, so you end up being dragged along for this too. Guess who can't rest then. Guess who can't rest ever. It's a miracle you haven't overdosed on cortisol considering how unexpectedly high-maintenance he is.
So mentally, emotionally, and financially speaking, you are his owner, and dogs need their owners to look after them. It probably won't take that much effort nor time to make this physical, either. Now, is this unethical? Sure. Will this cause internal tensions and long-term conflict? Yeah. It has been. And have you had to scold him numerous times for overstepping your boundaries: eating too much of the food YOU bought for yourself, making a mess of YOUR living space, giving you cheek despite sleeping on YOUR couch? Definitely. In fact, most of the times, his unruly behavior is at your expense. How ungrateful is he?
Yet the reward for this risky venture can be pleasant if you know how to make use of it. As you can see in front of you, with the way he doesn't bite back at your hand, he's gotten much better at regulating himself over time. It took about a year of training—you had to be patient with him, since it's expected for a ruffian with a sour attitude to have: a sour attitude, duh—though you didn't frame it in such an obvious way for a while unless you wanted to get your head smashed in. Quietly, you established a routine that is actually quite simple: if he does something you like, you'll clap your hands together and get him food. Hot, fresh, meaty, oily, just how he likes it.
"Oh!" You proclaimed upon feeling the unexpectedly clean floor underneath your feet as you stepped into your home one day. You've been meaning to organize the place, but it seems like he's gotten to that way before you—when you stay away for long durations, he rarely gets bored enough to start helping you around the house. Besides that… you're not too sure what he's up to, but as long as he's not causing any problems, you don't really have it in you to care. Oh, but you did make a rule to never let him outside unattended, so he's mostly indoors by himself. Sure, he can go on his phone or the computer, but his claws make it very difficult to do so without scratching any hardware, nor is he any good at navigating them—you've also shown him enough horror stories on the internet to make him wary of it.
Wolves are social animals. They require connections to live. They need to communicate with others, exchange ideas, form close bonds, experience intimacy, and all sorts of other things that one cannot to with a single person. So what happens to someone whose brain is overflowing with thoughts and feelings built up from years of isolation? They release it in outstanding bursts the moment an opportunity to express them presents itself, otherwise they collapse under the weight of their own mind.
So to Heathcliff, sweeping tiles or wiping down shelves or washing clothes might be the closest thing he has to a healthy coping mechanism besides regular exercise and his journal (those two are quite obvious anyway). He needs something to quiet his blaring thoughts. He needs to be too tired to think. It's quite useful to you, so you make sure to encourage it even more when it happens.
"Spick an' span, innit?" He huffed with pride at his admittedly exceptional handiwork. He can be very thorough when he wants to be. "Ain't a single clump of fur left!"
Out of spite towards his arrogance, you leaned down to pick up… a single clump of fur. It's short, and of a deep purple color—my, who could it possibly belong to? His ears flatten; tail puffs up in irritation at your silent argument, and the proud smirk he had on his face quickly fades away when he realizes that his work is mediocre. "Huh?! That blasted thing wasn't there when I—!"
"Calm down," you gently chided as the hairs slowly flutter down the trash bin. "It's not that much. Besides, your work is otherwise stellar. Thank you, Heathcliff. I'm really happy to see this. How about we go out for sandwiches? I know you really like the place downtown."
Clap!
That reward was enough to get him to behave for the rest of the night. Positive reinforcement really works wonders on puppies like him.
If he does something you don't like, or if he's throwing another one of those tantrums where you know you can't reach him, you don't talk to him for a while and instead choose to sleep over at a friend's place. It's better not to lash out at him—you'd dare argue that this is actually a way of protecting him from you going to any extreme measures from an emotional outburst. Truth be told, the much more convenient route is to just move in with them and leave him behind, but since you are so kind and caring, you willingly put up with him. Aren't you the best pet owner ever?
"Heathcliff, why is the door broken… again?"
You stare in admonishment at the busted up wood barely held together by a few flimsy metal hinges, and the mess of chips and dried paint and shattered planks and whatever other rubble lying in the middle of the door(less)way. He has this really weird habit of breaking things he doesn't own that's just a little bit irritating. This is the 3rd time it has happened—it's incredible that you both managed to never get evicted.
"Ain't my fault this shite's just a wall of rubbish with a lock and key," he snorted. "It fell to pieces with a huff and puff!"
Clearly, he's exaggerating. He was just growling out curses not that long ago, does he think you're that stupid to believe him?
You sigh. "Talk to management and let them know, then. If you can, volunteer to fix it for them."
"The hell? You think me some labouring sod now?"
"…You know we'll both be kicked out if you don't."
It was tempting to actually let it happen if it wouldn't leave a nasty mark on your record. Living with him is kind of insufferable. Unfortunately, it does indeed have consequences, so you'll just have to tolerate it.
He paused, and suddenly, he looks very uncomfortable. "…We?"
Now, obviously Heathcliff is pretty used to living in less than habitable conditions. You found him in one, after all. But the thought of having to go back to that shitty wasteland of a spot, and the thought of being separated from the one person that made living easy, and the thought of accidentally trapping you in the same depravity he had to suffer for a majority of his life just because of his incompetence…
That's not a thought he likes very much.
"Yes, we. Haa… well, I'll be working overtime tomorrow then. And it's not exactly the safest for me to sleep here anymore, so I'll be at my friend's house in the meantime."
That was enough to make him fumble over his words. You're leaving him? You're walking away to someone else? You're replacing him?! No, no, he swears the whole door accident was exactly that: an accident. He didn't mean it this time. Actually, he didn't mean it ever. It was just a really unlucky series of events that brought him down this path, and this doesn't reflect anything about his character at all! He tries to argue with you on this—you don't need to worry about any intruders coming in if you have him! Do you have that little faith in his combat abilities? Oh, he'll show you what he can do. Ah, wait… actually, that'll only drive you away further. Goddamnit!!
…Wolves are social animals. They require connections to live. They need to communicate with others, exchange ideas, form close bonds, experience intimacy, and all sorts of other things that one cannot to with a single person. So what happens to someone who finally meets a person who treats them with the bare minimum level of respect and decency when no one else does? They're going to get attached to them. They're going to crave subpar affection. They're going to praise and beg for and worship mediocrity, because mediocrity is a divine blessing in comparison to their longstanding abuse. And what happens when they're told that they're too worthless to receive it? Naturally, this rabid, hungry beast is going to dig his claws into anything he can still grasp from the rock bottom where he belongs; aggressively mark his possessions should they choose to abandon him next; and stalk the streets hunt down his prey, only to release it from his fangs when he remembers that he's not good enough to be fed.
You don't come home for the next week. When he dials you with the slightest waver in his voice to tell you that he put the door back together and surprisingly paid the fee himself, you tell him that you won't see him for another week. Why? None of his business. You hang up the phone right after.
…He knows what you're planning. What's worse is that he can't even be angry at you because you are the backbone of… everything. Yes, he'll act all bratty and rude and yell at you when you make him mad, but the undeniable truth is that Heathcliff needs you to live.
With this pattern set firmly in place, he loses much of his resistance over time. He becomes malleable. Tame. Submissive, if you really wanna look at it in that light. Thankfully, this means less money goes out of your wallet in trying to pay for damages, but that doesn't mean that you're any better than you were before economically speaking. Inflation is a bitch, and so is Heathcliff during the days he slips up. And even if you notice his demeanor becoming softer, quieter, that's not going to make you let up on this regimen. Who knows if he'll regress to how he once was the moment you loosen your grip on this leash? No, that's not allowed to happen. You didn't put in that much time and trouble and money and literal tears just to watch your efforts undo itself. You need your compensation! Your investment returns! You're doing your community the biggest service by controlling his usually wayward temperament, so you're going to get what you deserve.
What you don't realize is that the tighter your hold on him is, the more erratic he grows.
Once you come home from another two weeks of distancing yourself from him, you were unexpectedly tackled to the door with a loud SLAM! Wind flees your lungs as your back meets the hard surface; a dull, rising pain emanates from the base of your skull to the sides, then the front, at the impact; and instinctively, you had to ask yourself: is this thing going to break again? God, it better not. When you open your eyes again, you are met with the sight of… guess who! Heathcliff! A very pissed, anxious, and—eh, why is his shoulder bleeding?—Heathcliff!
"Oi, don't look so gobsmacked!" He barked. "You think I'm too bloody soft in the head to know what you're doing?!"
"Huh…?"
You stare back, confused, hair disheveled from work, your uniform being pulled in all sorts of direction from god-knows-what form of corporate slavery you mill yourself into for his sake. Why is he angry at you? Shouldn't YOU be the one who's upset? He was just behaving so well, too. What shame!
"I fucking know your kind. You're just one of them cocky sods who think they can make others fit their mould? I ain't yours to toy with when you're feelin' mardy just to ditch me when I'm not useful anymore. Sorry to disappoint, but I don't care a whit for rotters like you! So piss off, and quit with the trainin' bullshite, or I'll bloody pummel you!!"
Despite his bravado, you didn't miss the subtle way his lips quivered, or how his tail hides in between his legs. After all, who's brave enough to threaten their caretaker?
"Oh, Heathcliff…" you frown, reaching out to gently clasp his cheek in your palm. His breath stills at your touch, and he sharply glares at it with an intensity that could electrocute an innocent bystander to death. "Poor thing. I didn't know you felt that way. If you hate me so much, I'm okay with you leaving me. It's nearly time to renew the lease, so… I won't stop you if you choose to run."
"That's… that's not what I was trying to say!"
He trembles against your hold, urgently grabbing your wrist to keep you steady, like he doesn't know if he wants to bite your hand or nuzzle into it. Could be both. He doesn't remember the last time anyone has touched him, nor does he remember how he should be reacting when they do. Why do you torture him in this way? Why do you talk about him leaving you like so, as if YOU'RE not always the one walking out that door with your bags packed whenever he makes a minor mistake? And why… why do you say it like you're not going to bother putting in any effort to make sure he sticks beside you at all? You're not the one scratching at the walls to make sure you have someone to talk to. You're not the one rocking yourself back and forth in a corner, constantly replaying the past week on loop to see if you'd even glanced at them wrong, while tearing apart your body just to keep your head steady. You're not the who suffers in silence every waking moment, desperate for a mere peep to reassure you that you're not alone!
"Why…" he began, "do you never yell at me?"
"Hm?"
"You don't yell. You don't scream. Shout. Bawl. Squawk. No, no, you only stow me away in this right hellhole of a playpen while you're out with your mate,"—he spits this word quite disdainfully; its double meaning isn't lost on you—"and for what? If I'm narkin' ya, tell me proper like normal folk! Smack me around if you need it! Just… goddamnit, stop treatin' me like I ain't even real…"
…Eh…? Doesn't he think he's being too greedy in asking for you to change for him? You've been nothing but kindhearted and patient, and this is how he acts? Wow… you're nowhere near as close to finishing him up as you'd originally thought. That's honestly kind of embarrassing.
"You prefer I insult you?"
"Blimey, if it'll get you to just look at me, bloody well yes!"
But there's no denying your significant progress, though. You don't think you've ever seen him in this desperate state before. He's never been so vulnerable, nor has the air between you felt so charged to where it's shocking you both physically and emotionally. So this is what he's been hiding, huh…?
…Cute. You like this side of him. You should coax him to show it more.
Gently, your thumb caresses his face, tenderly running over his scars with your fingertips. You remember that it has been about 274 days since anyone has made physical contact with him under your supervision, and that time was an accidental bump he had with a stranger on the road. He doesn't do a very good job at shutting out the massive emotional impact that your little rubs have on him either—quite satisfying.
"Thanks for trusting me with this information," you whispered. "It makes me so happy."
Happy that you manage to wrench his weakness into your arms? Eh, wouldn't put it past you. That is quite the achievement.
"Uuurrgh… gaaah…"
Due to the sensory overload, he returns to making animalistic growls and grunts, not even knowing what kind of message he wants to communicate. He just wants you go back off, but keep your hand on his face still, and to keep speaking, but not too much otherwise he'll snap, and… and…
To keep the conversation going and snap him from his daze, you added, "Also, Heathcliff… I ask that you don't call it 'training'. That's not what's happening—I'm just reciprocating behavior. If you act badly, I'm gonna act badly. And if you act good, I'm gonna act good too. If I put it like that, doesn't that sound like any standard relationship?"
Finally, he regains his voice at your audaciousness and scoffs bitterly. "There ain't a damn thing that's standard 'bout us."
"…No, there isn't. People don't usually let freeloaders into their home without expecting them to pay their half of the rent."
The fur on his body abruptly shoots up at your blunt statement. Freeloader?! He wants to deny it, but… ah, he HAS been doing that, hasn't he? No, no, he repays you. Somehow. Someway. His existence is enough to make you pleased… right? Truthfully, there's not really a way for him to excuse it. Ugh… just how expensive is he? How much has he eaten out of your bank account? How many hours of your life did you waste for his sake while he's lounging at home, whining over the smallest inconveniences like a spoiled brat? Nobody did that for him before, not even Catherine. Yet he treats you so subpar! No, you don't deserve mediocrity from him. And it's possible you said that with the intent to guilt-trip him—he wouldn't doubt it if that's the case—but… is it really guilt-tripping if it's true?
Maybe all he needed was someone to point out just how much of a burden he is to others.
"I—" he chokes out, habitually digging his claws into his waist in an attempt to ground himself. He doesn't even notice the way he's puncturing his skin, nor does he care to do anything about the blood seeping into his clothes when you're here, slapping him right across the face with the reality of your relationship. It cuts a lot deeper than any scratch of his claws.
There is no other option for him to take. This is the only way forward.
yes actually please elaborate on your haterisms for heathcliff. to hate someone requires just as much passion as love so i WILL be seated for your inner thoughts and analysis on this Lad.
oh my goodness gracious anon i don't think you know what you're getting yourself involved with HGHHFJFFH BUT SINCE YOU'RE SO KINDLY GIVING ME THE OPPORTUNITY TO TALK ABOUT IT I WILL GLADLY OBLIGE!!!!
short answer
he's stupid and dumb and ugly how could anyone ever like him smh my head
long answer
he reminds me way too much of myself and it freaks me out to an immense degree. he is also the only character in media to piss me off, which is saying something because while i do get frustrated easily, i usually let go of it quickly when i remember that hatable characters are written with the intention of being hated. that makes it pretty hard for me to hate them as a result—i also have a preference for villains over hero characters. heathcliff is the only exception to this trend. i've hated him even before reading wuthering heights (which HOLY FUCK ate away at my sanity cause he's a BITCH and GOD I ACTUALLY THREW THE BOOK. IT WAS THAT BAD.) and when i think of heathcliff, i think more of his literary counterpart rather than limbus heathcliff. they're both insufferable though so!!!!
pre wuthering heights
i didn't really care for him at first, cause even at first glance i knew he was just one of those bad delinquent boys that have been abused throughout his life and built a hard exterior to hide it but is secretly a super pathetic yearner with abandonment issues. except my friend who got me into limbus is super in love with him and wouldn't shut up about hobocliff specifically, and i was like OK FINE YOUR MAN IS... NOT COMPLETELY GROSS. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW. jhfgjghfggh and it rubbed off on me, rabbitcliff quick suppression spam earlygame did something to my brain. i hate how white he is in his preuptie art but holy balls was his consistent 300+ damage (which was a lot for my standards back then) extremely attractive
also look at his slutty waist. and his hips? oh my god?? oh my god??? so like yeah the heathcliff brainworms kinda got to me oops..........
i cant pinpoint an exact time but i think i started getting genuinely angry at him during canto 5 when he insulted dante in that scene with smee. and then he'd go on and look hot in another cg and then i'd be very quickly enthralled and forget that i was ever upset at him. THEN he'd look at someone wrong and i'd be like "oh my god why does he exist GET OUT GET OUT OMG YOU'RE PISSIMG mE OFF". my moods are very well regulated as i'm sure you can see!!! i'd keep going back and forth with him, some days i love him and other days just looking at him makes me mad. also hes canonically a yandere. hes canonically a yandere. hes CANONICALLY A YANDERE JHYEWGR732URIEFOKOHU foams at the mouth and dies i want him so bad
post wuthering heights (and analysis)
up until reading his source material my mood swings with him were usually very transient and happened over small stuff. now i just overall hate him. i actually fucking hate him. he's the most insufferable bitch ever i hope he rots eternally. omg. i got into the book knowing he was an ass but i wasn't ready for the several pages straight of dialogue where he's just yapping on and on about his desire for revenge and his codependency towards cathy. i wasAT MY WITS END. i've read the book twice now and i've been meaning to for a 3rd time i dont know why i keep torturing myself in this way because i physically feel my hypertension increase every time heathcliff is on screen. PLEASE HELP ME
fans will first notice that limbuscliff's and WHcliff's personalities are NOTHING alike. WHcliff is just a petulant sadomasochist bitch who wants cathy to make him miserable and if he doesn't get his way then he'll respond by making everyone else around him miserable. wheras limbuscliff is actually very compassionate and kind and can respond well to people as long as you treat him with dignity. that's because limbuscliff isn't even supposed to reflect WHcliff! he reflects hareton, who is WHcliff's foster son who he neglects and puts into child labor!
(well actually i could argue limbuscliff has some flavor of sadomasochism in him too cause.
he literally admits to just wanting her to regret/make her suffer for her actions. plainly, he wants to punish her for choosing the wrong man. if that isn't a form of sadism i don't know what it is. and:
"for you to topple me... for you to ground me up until i'm nothing." HELLO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 ok heathcliff. ok heathcliff i see you. you have made your point known. you have made yourself clear. also him getting possessive over the title "cathy" is very funny to me.)
anyway, hareton presents himself as very peasantly and rude, and he's deeply insecure about his intelligence (which he lashes out at others for), but he's actually very smart and kind. he just never received the proper resources, care, nor formal education cause both his dads are assholes and his mom died early on, so he became pretty emotionally stunted as a result.
you see his good side start coming out when another character starts treating him like a regular human being, and gives him a book as a way to apologize for making fun of him.
this kind of characterization sounds a lot more familiar to limbuscliff rather than the arrogant sexually violent ho. some people think hareton is evil because he hung a litter of puppies one time, but you have to remember that he was, like, 8 when he did that. also, he got that behavior from heathcliff, who was his primary role model cause no one else looked after him. if heathcliff is going to be abusive towards animals (which he is! not even past the first chapter does he kick a dog!), hareton is going to think that behavior is acceptable and do the same. considering the shit heathcliff and hindley forced hareton through during his formative years, he grew to be relatively normal by the end of the book, which is very impressive because everyone is miserable in wuthering heights.
what's very captivating about the novel is that heathcliff treats you, the reader, the same way he treats his wife. for hundreds of years til today, even before the release of wuthering heights, there's a very popular trope in romance novels that states "a reformed rake makes the best husband" and many times the book will tease you into thinking that heathcliff is going to get that reform—that he's not going to get any worse than he already has.
guess what! he DOES get worse! isabella linton, who he marries and is also arguably the best character in the book (i absolutely LOVE isabella), often goes through cycles of idolizing him -> being abused, which crushes that idolization -> running away -> realizing she has nowhere else to go and inevitably crawls back to him, knowing she will be abused again -> idolizing him again as a way to cope (i could be mistaken about this last bit because it's been a while since i last read WH but regardless it's still vile). and you're just going to have to sit there and endure the horrors that you witness from reading that because you're that enraptured by him. as long as you're holding the book, you're under his control—it's pretty funny. like, how red can the flag get? how shitty does he have to be for you to feel deeply repulsed, only for you to delute himself into thinking he's a romantic lover, and to try to find out what happens in the next chapter where he'll definitely get better?
he's a pretty revolutionary character for his time. so much so that everyone hated wuthering heights when it was first published for being "coarse and immoral" and charlotte bronte, emily bronte's sister and also the author of jane eyre, basically hardcore glazed the book—almost to the point of lying—until everyone was forced into liking it. and i agree. speak your shit charlotte💥
here is a part of her preface. "never once swerving in his arrow—straight course to perdition" PLEASE. THERE IS NOTHING STRAIGHT ABOUT HEATHCLIFF'S CHARACTERIZATION. NOT EVEN HIS SEXUALITY /hj. he's not someone that can easily be understood. that's what makes him so appealing, because you keep trying to project things that you want to see in him despite the fact that you just vaguely know he's going to continue to be shitty. yet even so you keep getting hints that he'll get a redemption arc over and over, and when he ACTUALLY acts shitty like you already know he will, you're still surprised. the book really fucks with your brain like that.
a lot of people hone in on the first generation of wuthering heights before catherine's death because that's where most of the iconic scenes and codependency shows itself—it's where he establishes his desires for revenge and what fuels it. pmoon is the same. i don't blame them because the main selling point of the book is his toxic relationship with cathy, but i find that the second generation is much more interesting because that's where you see him actually carry out his plans for vengeance.
and TRUST ME. THEY GO DEEP. as in grooming two children who don't love each other into a shitty marriage solely so that he can steal someone's inheritance property.
look at my girl cathy jr (linton and the late catherine's daughter) spitting her bars. i love cathy jr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
the best part, though, is that there's historical significance to his bitchiness. for some context, heathcliff was found in liverpool, and the story takes place in the late 1700s. up until 1807, liverpool was known to dominate the transatlantic slave trade. not only that, but at the time emily wrote wuthering heights in the 1840s, there was a severe depression in the british economy cause factory workers had like the worst working conditions ever and rich people were afraid they'd retaliate against them. a lot of rich people held these workers with a mix of pity and fear, like they cared just enough to feel a little bad but not enough to actually do anything about it despite having the power to.
you see this reflected in our attitudes towards heathcliff. it's natural to feel bad for him when he's a powerless victim against hindley's tormenting, but when he comes back with money and power and as a "handsome gentleman", it's suddenly very easy to demonize him. it's like how rich people will be generous sometimes when they're in a good mood, but when it comes to enacting and sustaining real change that will be at the cost of their power, poor people are seen as villains.
so the book isn't actually just about toxic doomed couples, it's also about the industrial revolution and class wars. one of the overarching themes is nature vs culture, which you can see in cathy's decision to marry linton for socioeconomic power despite loving heathcliff more. isabella linton as a whole is also a representation of culture. this is just a personal headcanon of mine, but i think it also makes references to british colonization in india. ANOTHER take of mine is that it references the opium war between england and china. the text is really political, but you have to look pretty far in to find it, which i like a lot.
that's about as much that comes to mind right now, i'll probably add more when i'm less sleepy. i am not normal about him. my hate is so extreme i immersed myself in as many corners of his literature so that i can hate him properly. IT'S BAD. IT'S BEEN GOING ON FOR YEARS NOW. SET ME FREE OTL I BEG I PLEAD
also. i used to associate him with a certain very toxic and racist heathcliff fan that was popular on twitter and reddit before she deleted her accounts. that didn't help. thankfully i barely remember she exists anymore cause my personal problems i had with her happened over a year now but oh my word did i genuinely hate him for it
when i was deciding to go on ao3 and tumblr i considered putting on a "i am heathcliff's #1 fan!" but i could never. he's too ugly for that. why would i ever be a fan of someone so putrid. i actually feel bad for the heathcliff fans and send you all get well soon cards. i hope your recoveries are smooth. much peace and love!
you know, its so interesting to see someone hate a character for the exact same reasons you fell in love with them /gen. this is an extremely good pinpoint on his character and teardown of the book, and i enjoyed reading it a lot
i do want to add a couple of things though, if thats alright
for one, i do think limbus embraces the second generation of wh more than it seems on the surface- you already mentioned how lcb heath is very much hareton (he *is* still heathcliff- thats something that i think a lot of people forget, and hell its even a point emphasized in the book about the parallels between a young heathcliff and hareton. nelly when i fucking get you), the same can be said for the other cast members in limbus at wuthering heights. limbus catherine is a mix of both cathys. linton is edgar linton mixed with linton heathcliff.
i think the latter a lot easier to see- in the book, linton h. is actually such a bitch but like. you cant blame him at all, like you said. hes known no peace in his life, his mom was horribly abused by his dad and how hes the target of that cruelty. which are traits that are a lot more evident in limbus linton than who he *physically* represents in the story (edgar l.) edgar is. he exists. he actually tries to be a decent person, but is still a sheltered white rich boy who is blindsided by those 'heathens' from the moors (he is not guiltless, not by any means. but hes not as much a bitch as the lcb counterpart if memory serves me right)
cathy on the other hand, is so. complicated. that i hesitate wanting to pick her apart when im wanting to refresh myself on both the book and canto 6. but i promise elements of both are there, even if her two literary counterparts are a lot more similar on the surface than heaths or lintons
hindley doesnt have a second generation counterpart, but he serves a similar role to both trios. he is an absolute bastard of an abuser and causes nothing but problems, but likewise with pretty much everyone else, is just another iteration in that same cycle that made him (its not actually about the violin)
the second generation is wholly present, as much as it could be with how they chose to adapt the story. and i actually really like that! i think it fits in well with how they're trying to give lcb heath the room to grow and change (something book nelly comments on, how this is what could have been when observing hareton) (i have so many gripes with lcb nelly but thats for another time) it also is entirely possible im just grasping at straws with this, but when nothing else can seem to get it right, its nice to at least see an attempt to take in the second, more important half of the book.
also like. i totally understand wanting to eviscerate a character you hate LMAO thats me with sinclair. i fucking hated demian and it made me hate sinclair with such a fiery passion i cannot begin to describe <3
Thabk youww!! So glad that i could propagate the heathcliff hate, and yes i love hearing the thoughts of other wuthering heights witnesses you didnt need to ask!!!
On the topic of the 2nd generation of wuthering heights being present during canto 6, it does make sense that pmoon would incorporate the characteristics of linton and cathy jr. now that you mention it, i see it, and it makes me happy that even a part of it is there.
in my mind i was thinking about how a lot of WH adaptations just completely cut off the story once cathy dies, so we don’t really get to see heathcliff’s plans for revenge come to fruition. Ever. Even though imo watching him do that and come up with more crazy shit in the name of “love”, developing his character in all sorts of insane ways is like… the best part💔
So even though pmoon does drop the plot at the first generation, it’s still nice that they at least give the other characters some representation through other means.
On the topic of hindley and nelly, those two were done so awful in limbus. IT WAS SO FOUL. Me personally i have so so so so many problems with canto 6’s execution and it’s arguably the worst canto, but that is an insanely long rant that i am too sleepy to get into right meow.
But back on track—I don’t like how they oversimplify hindley’s character to “arrgh my violin i hate you (metaphor for elitism NOT EVEN RACISM despite it being a major theme in the og text hhhdjhh.)” when he’s much more complex and in the source material, and the only thing that gives us more characterization for him are a few sentences in his observation logs talking about carving his own path to hell iirc.
I can kinda get it since he’s like a side character whose main role is to be abusive towards heathcliff, and that pmoon was probably in a hurry, but what i’m not going to understand is them doing the same to nelly and cathy despite those two playing very massive roles throughout canto 6. Cathy doesn’t get a lot of characterization despite being… CATHY. And she’s always remained in an unchallenged position of power over heathcliff. I personally feel they diluted her way too much and that she should’ve been written with more of her insanity and maliciousness because she was genuinely tweaking out and experiencing psychotic symptoms once heathcliff left her. She was also really horrible towards nelly, and found amusement in making her two malewives distressed, like. Please why is she so sanitized in limbus. I want my evil gaslight gatekeep girlboss to remain evil. It was so heartbreaking🥀
Anyway that is enough of me complaining that’s barely related to the matter at hand hhgdhhg—I’m glad that pmoon at least made an attempt with the 2nd gen when everyone else tends to ignore it. And thank you for highlighting that it’s the more important half. I just. Aaaahaggghhhhh THIS BOOK IS THE DEATH OF ME
also. Oh god. I tried to read demian but i put it down after a minute because the narrator kept using “he” to refer to a general population and that’s like a pet peeve of mine😭 please feel free to give me literary crashouts i’d love to hear it
Binyah seeks your presence, no matter where you are. an infinite well of yearning wedged between her ribs. pointed ears twitching towards every sound, each creak of the floorboards, the chattering voices of her assistants. no. not you. she's long since memorized your footsteps. that quiet, determined tread, papers rustling in your grip. the smile you always cast her way. shining like starlight, bright as the moon- ah. Binah blinks, once, twice. lost in thought, again. it's been happening more often. her mind drifting back to you; curling, leaning, purring. invading your space to ignore everything else. how warm you must be. soft to the touch, dressed in her colors. hers. hers. you're hers.
focus. the others already stare at her new features. Binah raises her teacup to her lips, tail flicking every so often. a step, a familiar murmur in the distance. her ears perk. fingers tightening around the saucer. you. it's you. the earl gray is abandoned as she crosses the room in a few strides. stopping right before you, meeting your eyes with her own, ignoring your yelp of surprise. the noise shifts, slipping into laughter, and Binah's pupils dilate. unseen to all but you. her hands cup your cheeks, pressing your foreheads together and nuzzling. insistent, unabashed. tail tightly coiled around your waist. as if you've been absent for years, a mere flicker in the edges of her vision.
"There you are."
she tilts her head into your palm, letting out a slow rumble. the others are watching again. countless wide eyes burning into her skin, terrified and perplexed. good. let them stare. let them see how she showers you in affection, their Patron Librarian openly adoring.
perhaps you'll give her a scratch behind the ears. just until she returns to her usual self. silent, serene. still unable to turn away from your blossoming delight.
✎ a/n. this was collecting too much dust in my drafts and it was making me a little upset so i'm finishing it meow. also being in a bpd-fp relationship is definitely not for the fainthearted. help
✎ pairing // original character/original character
✎ desc. // A letter written by nobody, for nobody, about nobody.
...We should probably burn it before someone reads it. Who in the world would ever ramble on with such blatant raving egocentricity?
✎ tags // angst, mental health issues, self-esteem issues, codependency, dehumanization, writing exercise, unreliable narrator
⚠︎ WARNING ⚠︎ // this work contains graphic depictions of a suicide attempt
To whomever this may concern,
I've been lying to you this whole time. I was never brave like you made me out to be, nor could I be as mature as I wished I was. Much of my life has been a shame. I've spent years resisting that fact, and I know I will continue to do so years from now on as well.
Pitifully, I wanted to be seen as unique. I wanted to be different. I still do, I still do! If I could be different, then would the people I take to finally stop ignoring me? Would people look at me like I'm a somebody for even just a moment? Maybe I could convince myself I was better than the average person if I drowned myself in a cesspool of semi-intellectual cosmic bullshit for long enough. If I belted out enough fun facts about our universe and its machinations, maybe it could get you to think I was a fun person too. You like science as much as I do, so why wouldn't you listen? Besides, people who alienated me must simply be too dimwitted to understand the genius that I could become. You didn't want to be grouped with them, I'm sure. I could hide the fact that, outside of my passions for individualism and bold declarations of self-identity and striking idiosyncrasies, I don't have a self.
Hey, hey, did you know that they found a cure and a vaccine for cancer in mice with a nearly perfect success rate? They used naturally occurring gut bacteria in Japanese tree frogs to help "mark" tumor cells so that our immune system would be able to identify them. Oh, and have I ever told you that public art on intersections has dramatically reduced the amount of accidents involving vulnerable groups by 50%, and total crashes decreased by 17%? What about the new strain of disseminating gonorrhea that can now travel out of the site of infection and can cause septic arthritis, bacteria, endocarditis, or meningitis? The world is so wondrous, so deeply fascinating, and I'll teach you everything I know—far, far more than you could hope to learn in a traditional classroom setting! Aren't I so wise and clever? Don't you think I'm as wonderful as the reality I opened your eyes to? You do, I know you do, that made me so happy!
…What really surprised me was that you actually believed I could be special. Well, I don't blame you. The illusion of grandiosity I'd built up for myself is so elaborate, it wasn't like I could tell it apart from the truth either, nor did I ever want to. If I accepted it was a lie, then I'd accept that my life was good for nothing, and that I should disappear. You don't blame me for wanting to soften the blow just a little, do you? No, you didn't. You were the only person who didn't. Whether that was fueled by genuine kindness or a self-absorbed attempt to flatter yourself by pleasing me, I won't know. It didn't make a difference to me anyway.
The thing that caused this violent rippling of our lives was mere chance: I sat next to you in a common area one day. I didn't do it because I sought out your presence, was interested in you, was instructed to, or that I didn't have anywhere else to go. I simply liked the location—it was bright, closest to a large windowpane, and much sunlight could enter into the building. It felt nice sitting there. You were consequential. You just happened to be present that day, that was all. Had I chosen to sit elsewhere, we would have never met. Had I thought the sun was too bright that day, I'd sit a little closer towards the center of the room, where neither its rays nor your person could reach me. Then, in my desire for routine, I'd sit there for the next day, then the one after that, then the one after that, so that we would never encounter each other unless you decided to be intentional of it. A small, mindless act of wanting to place myself closer to the greenery outside the room was what sowed a seed for us.
I speak so dismissively of you, but don't get me wrong, I appreciated your company far more than I would anyone else. You were the only person who could meet me at the level of rigor that I've always wanted in a rival, in a friend, and it made me feel seen, as if the comprehension of my words was the comprehension of my humanity. Because of that, talking to you was so fun. I never wanted it to end. I wanted to keep showing you the magic of the world, so that I didn't have to live in it alone. What a waste it would be if I'd let go of the opportunity to be seen as somebody for once!
And, you know, maybe I could say the same for you—you were tired of being surrounded by the same common folk you thought were, bluntly, dumbasses, and got excited in meeting someone who could stimulate you academically. You were consistently one of the top performers in whatever you got yourself involved with, and you always had to meet someone's else's demands to do better, rather than the calling of your own passion. It must have felt deeply isolating and objectifying to bear that alone, was it not? Growing so weary of being seen as another person's vessel for greatness, I saw it in your lack of joy whenever you accomplished something that you couldn't get yourself to care for. So someone like me, who could appeal to both your desire to be challenged out of responsibility and your zeal for biology, must have been very refreshing to you. We saw each other in the same light—you relied on me for an escape from civilization as much as I did on you for an entrance to it.
That might've been how it started, and that should've been how it stayed, but you and I both know very well that was definitely not how it turned out.
I'd tell you all about the diseases I'd studied, ones that I knew our peers couldn't bother to grasp. They were my specialty. I'd tell you about prospective cancer treatments, the evolution of sexually transmitted diseases, the history behind various kinds of epidemics and how we have defeated each one. Each incurable diagnosis is just another hill for us to climb as a race. Then, you'd return to me with a quip of your own, following up with knowledge only one committed to the field would bear. It me so happy each time you did that. I've grown to look forward to seeing you each day I went back to that room, and took you out to sit with me in the quiet garden bench where we would discuss whatever we held dear to ourselves in peace.
I would do anything to spend another lazy afternoon in the gentle fields with you again, or to feel the cool breeze blowing past my hair as we chased each other across the valley the same way uncaring children do.
"The wind feels nicest up here, doesn't it?"
"…It does."
It wasn't long until you were then infected with the plague that haunts all of mankind—you were in love with me. You were in love with nobody. You didn't do very much to hide it, and I did not know how to handle that. It was the only illness I couldn't think of a treatment for, no matter how hard I'd racked my brain for one.
I did warn you, on numerous occasions, that I was not an easy person to get along with. In hindsight, that might've been an attempt to discourage you from connecting with me—I wanted someone to treasure me, sure, but I'm scared of being vulnerable enough to be treasured. You told me you didn't mind that I had issues. It made me a little angry, and a little hopeful.
If you were anyone else, I'd be very frustrated by your ignorance. How dare you not listen to me, the sole expert on all things related to me. How dare your perception of me be brighter, livelier, and more human than I permit it to be—so much so that I would've grown to think that you saw a mirage in me polluted with all of the good and kindnesses of the world, rather than my genuinely shameful self. How dare you care for that erroneously idyllic "me"! And how dare you be smart enough—with the same intelligence that made me fall helplessly for you—recognize that the beautiful mirage was not the true version of me, strive to abandon it in favor of the detestable truth, and foolishly choose to see it as something to adore. And for what? In the name of compassion? Connection? Of devout worship, even?
It made me feel so touched. I hated it. You really are so dumb sometimes, and I've grown to cherish your stupidity as much as I had for your sagacity.
If you or anyone else were ever unfortunate enough to learn who I genuinely was beneath my bravado, I wouldn't receive even an eighth of the affection I do now. Wasn't it much better to parcel your mind an image of me as a wayward, although not unrighteous, individual who could still be genuinely doting as long as it was palatable enough for your tastes? You're not evil for being infatuated with a fantasy. I wished it was real as much as you did, so don't cry. I'll wipe away your tears for you, and take you back to my embrace, and you can be consoled knowing the person who broke your heart wasn't even a real person at all.
…Did you know my full name translates to "promise of happiness"? It's ironic. All I ever do is hurt the people I care for and strip their joy from them, so whatever made me so deserving of that title?
It made sense that, over time, as I'd exposed more of my sorry excuse of a personality to you, you've come to realize that our pursuits for intimacy are fundamentally different. I guess I should've expected you to grow tired of it. I really should've. Of course you'd lie to me about it too. Of course you didn't mean it when you told me you'd travel great lengths to be with me. Were you also lying when you told me that learning about me was your favorite thing to do? How about the time you said I made you the happiest you've ever been? What about the day, overwhelmed by suffocating guilt and self-loathing, I ran away into the canyon out the back with a stolen pair of scissors from our teacher with nothing but a farewell note written in my sketchbook and my building resolution to end our collective sufferings?
You're horrible, you really are. You made me feel so alone and afraid and sad, and I'm in no position to condemn you for it because I'm worse. I'm worse, I'm infinitely worse, that's why I decided I would do you and everyone else a favor and prevent all of the future heartbreaks you would've endured by my hand otherwise.
I acutely recalled that our lecturer kept kitchen knives in her classroom to help prepare meals, and that they would surely be a more apt tool for what I'd planned that afternoon, but decided against using them as a small act of consideration. Scissors would be fine. They'd do the job just as well as the knife, without getting an innocent old lady in trouble with the authorities for my own problems. The plan was very simple: I'd slip outside through the front of the classroom, far from the prying eyes of the consideration of acquaintances who worry for me; say my proper goodbyes to you and everyone else uninvolved; find a comfortable spot to plant myself and my belongings in, and jam the scissors—knife, pencil, stick, needle, whichever, I didn't care—into my left eye. My pain would end quick regardless of the tool I used. It had to. It goes in, then I'd give it a good twist around the circumference of my eye socket, so my brain turns into a slurry of blood and grey-white matter and shredded chunks of dura. If I was forceful enough, I could try to grate shards from the back of my skull in as an extra bonus. How impressive would that be if I could pull that off during my state of rapidly-progressing weakness caused by the mincing of my motor neurons? Then I'd slump down to the dirt floor in a pool of my own fluids where I belong. If I somehow got to live just a few seconds after that, I could feel the comforting embrace of the wind—the one that I'd bask in alongside you—swaying past my arm hairs, the gentle warmth of the sun filtered through the trees showing my skin, the firm and reliable ground beneath me with pebbles that poke at me through my clothes, the world growing evermore distant to my senses as I lull myself into my deepest slumber yet.
The way I painted it makes it sound very serene. If only I felt that way in the moment. You know how bad it freaked me, out that from where I'd lain, the overhanging cluster of leaves lit by the rays of light took on the shape and color of your hair? From the corner of my eye, I kept thinking you'd silently walked in on me, and it hurt just how much the impossible thought of it would've made me so glad. But that wouldn't haunt me much longer after I cut into myself, so just let me put a smile on everyone's frowning face, and make everything right again. It's all I've been wanting ever since I was a child, and it's what others would want too, so please. Please. Please!
Well, if I'm still alive to write this, then you know how that turned out.
…I wish I took the knife instead.
I wish I died. The scissors weren't enough. I wish I still had the willpower to try to die again.
I should have died that day. I should have tried to find a way to die the day after too, and if that didn't work, then I'd have to look again the day after that. I should have been shot during yesteryear's New Years party. I should have drowned in the high tides of the beach last summer. I should have been ran over, or abducted, or beaten, or otherwise plainly murdered. Am I selfish for wanting to protect others?
I want everyone to forget me. I want to disappear. It hurts so much, please help me. Please help me, you pitiful liar, because my heart isn't strong enough to listen to your truths. I know it already, okay? You want nothing to do with me. You hate me. You hate me, that's why you left me to die. I get it. You don't have to keep trying to rub it in my face.
Your shaking voice periodically interrupted by barely-controlled sniffles cut into my phone speakers. I didn't need to see your face then to know of the tears that accompanied it. I couldn't hear you very well at first—in your frantic state, you might not have realized that your headphones were still connected, so you sounded very distant. Even with the drop in quality, I could just barely make out the first time you've uttered the words, "I love you too."
Dumbass. You shouldn't say dangerous things so carelessly like that.
The gall, the audacity, the arrogance you had to tell me you loved me, just to tell me you're cutting me off right after. You tell me you adore me, you'd go to great lengths to be with me, that we could build ourselves a peaceful world where our boring—but stable—coexistence would be a dream come true. So what right did you have to go? Why, for your cheap desire for people-pleasing, for your shallow wishes to keep face, did you think you could trade what we had in? I would give you the world. In fact, I gave you my world. Am I in the wrong for expecting it back?
No… no, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. That's a very entitled thing of me to say. I'm no longer human enough to boast so casually.
But I do wonder, if you truly meant those things, why would you leave me? And other times I wonder, if—or, rather, BECAUSE—I really am as grotesque of a monster that I've convinced myself I was, why wouldn't you leave me?
…The hardest thing to acknowledge is that I know you're not intentionally being dishonest with me. You're not evil. You're not trying to be manipulative. I can't paint you as a heartless villain and just toss you away like I would otherwise. No, you're just really, really, really fucking stupid and terrified and desperate for mass approval. I don't know if that makes it better or worse. You apologize to me, and I believe you, I really do, but does that make what you did okay?
So come on. I'm not as strong as I make myself out to be, you know. It really hurt. It really, really hurt. The best part is that I'm not even angry at you, even if I knew what you did was objectively wrong, because why would anyone ever put in that much effort for subhuman trash? I should be grateful that you had the tolerance to breathe next to me for as long as you have. As I'm sure you are well aware, if my previous crazed rambling hadn't made it clear, that I was the one who scorned and shunned you for abandoning me in such a dastardly manner. Might I add that you've had quite some time to mingle with the idea that I find you an unlovable, cunning bastard at heart—I was the one who insulted you for it, even through minced words. Might I also add that I too am same one who pitifully yearns for your attention, your affection, your affirmations that even inhuman creatures like me could still be celebrated.
Sometimes—oftentimes—my mind wanders in all sorts of directions, instinctively finding its way back to the comforting embrace of your ghost. I miss you. I really miss you.
God, I know I'm not making any sense. I know you're frustrated with me for it. I know that everything in this letter is just the incoherent gibberish of a lunatic. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'd been so cruel as to love you. I wanted to see you smile so badly, yet all I ever do is make you cry. My own reprehensibility makes me want to vomit. My own everything makes me want to vomit. Please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for even sitting next to you, I'm just so scared of losing what little worth I have.
Is there a point in trying to breathe life, even for just a second, into something that is dead? I'll let that be your prerogative. You know where to find me, if you ever desired my company. But I know you wouldn't bother. If you've left me once, how could I expect you to stay again? How could I expect you to want to stay again? I've already been so audacious for my price these past several months, how could I ever expect anyone to be as eager to appease me.
This letter is for nobody, after all. Nobody who'll read this and think, "Its author still deserves to be cherished."
Well, that's okay. With or without me, I wish you the very best in life.
⤷ A letter
A letter written by nobody, for nobody, about nobody.
...We should probably burn it before someone reads it. Who in the world would ever ramble on with such blatant raving egocentricity?
yes actually please elaborate on your haterisms for heathcliff. to hate someone requires just as much passion as love so i WILL be seated for your inner thoughts and analysis on this Lad.
oh my goodness gracious anon i don't think you know what you're getting yourself involved with HGHHFJFFH BUT SINCE YOU'RE SO KINDLY GIVING ME THE OPPORTUNITY TO TALK ABOUT IT I WILL GLADLY OBLIGE!!!!
short answer
he's stupid and dumb and ugly how could anyone ever like him smh my head
long answer
he reminds me way too much of myself and it freaks me out to an immense degree. he is also the only character in media to piss me off, which is saying something because while i do get frustrated easily, i usually let go of it quickly when i remember that hatable characters are written with the intention of being hated. that makes it pretty hard for me to hate them as a result—i also have a preference for villains over hero characters. heathcliff is the only exception to this trend. i've hated him even before reading wuthering heights (which HOLY FUCK ate away at my sanity cause he's a BITCH and GOD I ACTUALLY THREW THE BOOK. IT WAS THAT BAD.) and when i think of heathcliff, i think more of his literary counterpart rather than limbus heathcliff. they're both insufferable though so!!!!
pre wuthering heights
i didn't really care for him at first, cause even at first glance i knew he was just one of those bad delinquent boys that have been abused throughout his life and built a hard exterior to hide it but is secretly a super pathetic yearner with abandonment issues. except my friend who got me into limbus is super in love with him and wouldn't shut up about hobocliff specifically, and i was like OK FINE YOUR MAN IS... NOT COMPLETELY GROSS. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW. jhfgjghfggh and it rubbed off on me, rabbitcliff quick suppression spam earlygame did something to my brain. i hate how white he is in his preuptie art but holy balls was his consistent 300+ damage (which was a lot for my standards back then) extremely attractive
also look at his slutty waist. and his hips? oh my god?? oh my god??? so like yeah the heathcliff brainworms kinda got to me oops..........
i cant pinpoint an exact time but i think i started getting genuinely angry at him during canto 5 when he insulted dante in that scene with smee. and then he'd go on and look hot in another cg and then i'd be very quickly enthralled and forget that i was ever upset at him. THEN he'd look at someone wrong and i'd be like "oh my god why does he exist GET OUT GET OUT OMG YOU'RE PISSIMG mE OFF". my moods are very well regulated as i'm sure you can see!!! i'd keep going back and forth with him, some days i love him and other days just looking at him makes me mad. also hes canonically a yandere. hes canonically a yandere. hes CANONICALLY A YANDERE JHYEWGR732URIEFOKOHU foams at the mouth and dies i want him so bad
post wuthering heights (and analysis)
up until reading his source material my mood swings with him were usually very transient and happened over small stuff. now i just overall hate him. i actually fucking hate him. he's the most insufferable bitch ever i hope he rots eternally. omg. i got into the book knowing he was an ass but i wasn't ready for the several pages straight of dialogue where he's just yapping on and on about his desire for revenge and his codependency towards cathy. i wasAT MY WITS END. i've read the book twice now and i've been meaning to for a 3rd time i dont know why i keep torturing myself in this way because i physically feel my hypertension increase every time heathcliff is on screen. PLEASE HELP ME
fans will first notice that limbuscliff's and WHcliff's personalities are NOTHING alike. WHcliff is just a petulant sadomasochist bitch who wants cathy to make him miserable and if he doesn't get his way then he'll respond by making everyone else around him miserable. wheras limbuscliff is actually very compassionate and kind and can respond well to people as long as you treat him with dignity. that's because limbuscliff isn't even supposed to reflect WHcliff! he reflects hareton, who is WHcliff's foster son who he neglects and puts into child labor!
(well actually i could argue limbuscliff has some flavor of sadomasochism in him too cause.
he literally admits to just wanting her to regret/make her suffer for her actions. plainly, he wants to punish her for choosing the wrong man. if that isn't a form of sadism i don't know what it is. and:
"for you to topple me... for you to ground me up until i'm nothing." HELLO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 ok heathcliff. ok heathcliff i see you. you have made your point known. you have made yourself clear. also him getting possessive over the title "cathy" is very funny to me.)
anyway, hareton presents himself as very peasantly and rude, and he's deeply insecure about his intelligence (which he lashes out at others for), but he's actually very smart and kind. he just never received the proper resources, care, nor formal education cause both his dads are assholes and his mom died early on, so he became pretty emotionally stunted as a result.
you see his good side start coming out when another character starts treating him like a regular human being, and gives him a book as a way to apologize for making fun of him.
this kind of characterization sounds a lot more familiar to limbuscliff rather than the arrogant sexually violent ho. some people think hareton is evil because he hung a litter of puppies one time, but you have to remember that he was, like, 8 when he did that. also, he got that behavior from heathcliff, who was his primary role model cause no one else looked after him. if heathcliff is going to be abusive towards animals (which he is! not even past the first chapter does he kick a dog!), hareton is going to think that behavior is acceptable and do the same. considering the shit heathcliff and hindley forced hareton through during his formative years, he grew to be relatively normal by the end of the book, which is very impressive because everyone is miserable in wuthering heights.
what's very captivating about the novel is that heathcliff treats you, the reader, the same way he treats his wife. for hundreds of years til today, even before the release of wuthering heights, there's a very popular trope in romance novels that states "a reformed rake makes the best husband" and many times the book will tease you into thinking that heathcliff is going to get that reform—that he's not going to get any worse than he already has.
guess what! he DOES get worse! isabella linton, who he marries and is also arguably the best character in the book (i absolutely LOVE isabella), often goes through cycles of idolizing him -> being abused, which crushes that idolization -> running away -> realizing she has nowhere else to go and inevitably crawls back to him, knowing she will be abused again -> idolizing him again as a way to cope (i could be mistaken about this last bit because it's been a while since i last read WH but regardless it's still vile). and you're just going to have to sit there and endure the horrors that you witness from reading that because you're that enraptured by him. as long as you're holding the book, you're under his control—it's pretty funny. like, how red can the flag get? how shitty does he have to be for you to feel deeply repulsed, only for you to delute himself into thinking he's a romantic lover, and to try to find out what happens in the next chapter where he'll definitely get better?
he's a pretty revolutionary character for his time. so much so that everyone hated wuthering heights when it was first published for being "coarse and immoral" and charlotte bronte, emily bronte's sister and also the author of jane eyre, basically hardcore glazed the book—almost to the point of lying—until everyone was forced into liking it. and i agree. speak your shit charlotte💥
here is a part of her preface. "never once swerving in his arrow—straight course to perdition" PLEASE. THERE IS NOTHING STRAIGHT ABOUT HEATHCLIFF'S CHARACTERIZATION. NOT EVEN HIS SEXUALITY /hj. he's not someone that can easily be understood. that's what makes him so appealing, because you keep trying to project things that you want to see in him despite the fact that you just vaguely know he's going to continue to be shitty. yet even so you keep getting hints that he'll get a redemption arc over and over, and when he ACTUALLY acts shitty like you already know he will, you're still surprised. the book really fucks with your brain like that.
a lot of people hone in on the first generation of wuthering heights before catherine's death because that's where most of the iconic scenes and codependency shows itself—it's where he establishes his desires for revenge and what fuels it. pmoon is the same. i don't blame them because the main selling point of the book is his toxic relationship with cathy, but i find that the second generation is much more interesting because that's where you see him actually carry out his plans for vengeance.
and TRUST ME. THEY GO DEEP. as in grooming two children who don't love each other into a shitty marriage solely so that he can steal someone's inheritance property.
look at my girl cathy jr (linton and the late catherine's daughter) spitting her bars. i love cathy jr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
the best part, though, is that there's historical significance to his bitchiness. for some context, heathcliff was found in liverpool, and the story takes place in the late 1700s. up until 1807, liverpool was known to dominate the transatlantic slave trade. not only that, but at the time emily wrote wuthering heights in the 1840s, there was a severe depression in the british economy cause factory workers had like the worst working conditions ever and rich people were afraid they'd retaliate against them. a lot of rich people held these workers with a mix of pity and fear, like they cared just enough to feel a little bad but not enough to actually do anything about it despite having the power to.
you see this reflected in our attitudes towards heathcliff. it's natural to feel bad for him when he's a powerless victim against hindley's tormenting, but when he comes back with money and power and as a "handsome gentleman", it's suddenly very easy to demonize him. it's like how rich people will be generous sometimes when they're in a good mood, but when it comes to enacting and sustaining real change that will be at the cost of their power, poor people are seen as villains.
so the book isn't actually just about toxic doomed couples, it's also about the industrial revolution and class wars. one of the overarching themes is nature vs culture, which you can see in cathy's decision to marry linton for socioeconomic power despite loving heathcliff more. isabella linton as a whole is also a representation of culture. this is just a personal headcanon of mine, but i think it also makes references to british colonization in india. ANOTHER take of mine is that it references the opium war between england and china. the text is really political, but you have to look pretty far in to find it, which i like a lot.
that's about as much that comes to mind right now, i'll probably add more when i'm less sleepy. i am not normal about him. my hate is so extreme i immersed myself in as many corners of his literature so that i can hate him properly. IT'S BAD. IT'S BEEN GOING ON FOR YEARS NOW. SET ME FREE OTL I BEG I PLEAD
also. i used to associate him with a certain very toxic and racist heathcliff fan that was popular on twitter and reddit before she deleted her accounts. that didn't help. thankfully i barely remember she exists anymore cause my personal problems i had with her happened over a year now but oh my word did i genuinely hate him for it
when i was deciding to go on ao3 and tumblr i considered putting on a "i am heathcliff's #1 fan!" but i could never. he's too ugly for that. why would i ever be a fan of someone so putrid. i actually feel bad for the heathcliff fans and send you all get well soon cards. i hope your recoveries are smooth. much peace and love!
Hey twin please write something about Lordlu doing brattaming to reader. Maybe reader is his version of Zigong because she’s kinda snarky
PLEASE GETTING A REQUEST FOR LORDLU BRAT TAMING RIGHT AFTER I REPOST SOMETHING. ON BRAT TAMING. THAT MY LORDLU LOVING FRIEND ALSO REPOSTED IS KILLING ME /pos
but yes, absolutely, i will feed the lordlu requests. i just found the timing of this so funny i actually burst out laughing and had to say something. thank you anon never change
