Cerberus being a three-headed monster designated to guard the gates of Hell. Everyone knows this.
Vincent himself is the body—literally—of Cerberus. The “three heads” are Galian, Gigas and Hellmasker, with “Hell” being Chaos, since he’s the being in charge of “purging the stream”; ie, destroying the pockets of Lifestream that are too corrupt to build a new world, otherwise known as eating the souls of the wicked.
In my headcanon Vincent started as a SOLDIER prototype—I think this may be canon?—but his physiology allowed Hojo to do things he hadn’t tried with SOLDIER, and this was what I call the Cerberus Project. Chaos was Lucrecia’s. Three projects, three monsters, one being from the world of the dead designated to wreak havoc on the living if ever released.
Vincent, therefore, is Cerberus.
The gun shares the title because Death Penalty—which it turns into when Vincent Limit Breaks—is literally an extension of Chaos, fashioned in such a way that Vincent is most comfortable using it. Under normal circumstances it’s a remarkable weapon, but appears almost entirely normal. Under normal circumstances Vincent is a remarkable individual, but for all account he appears almost entirely human. Limit Breaking to Chaos is basically opening the gate to Hell, so Cerberus—both of them—withdraw, and let Chaos—both parts of him—out.
Some of this is headcanon, but it makes far too much sense and I do wonder how many people have noticed this.
This would make for one hell of an interesting AU.
My Gay Best Friend: I had never seen balls attached to such patheticness.
My Gay Best Friend (After seeing his own reflection in a window): Wow, for a second I was like, ‘Who is that cute boy?’ Then I realized, ‘Oh! Ha! That’s me!’
This weekend I was told a story which, although I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, because holy shit is it ever obvious, is kind of blowing my mind.
A friend of a friend won a free consultation with Clinton Kelly of What Not To Wear, and she was very excited, because she has a plus-size body, and wanted some tips on how to make the most of her wardrobe in a fashion culture which deliberately puts her body at a disadvantage.
Her first question for him was this: how do celebrities make a plain white t-shirt and a pair of weekend jeans look chic? She always assumed it was because so many celebrities have, by nature or by design, very slender frames, and because they can afford very expensive clothing. But when she watched What Not To Wear, she noticed that women of all sizes ended up in cute clothes that really fit their bodies and looked great. She had tried to apply some guidelines from the show into her own wardrobe, but with only mixed success. So - what gives?
His answer was that everything you will ever see on a celebrity’s body, including their outfits when they’re out and about and they just get caught by a paparazzo, has been tailored, and the same goes for everything on What Not To Wear. Jeans, blazers, dresses - everything right down to plain t-shirts and camisoles. He pointed out that historically, up until the last few generations, the vast majority of people either made their own clothing or had their clothing made by tailors and seamstresses. You had your clothing made to accommodate the measurements of your individual body, and then you moved the fuck on. Nothing on the show or in People magazine is off the rack and unaltered. He said that what they do is ignore the actual size numbers on the tags, find something that fits an individual’s widest place, and then have it completely altered to fit. That’s how celebrities have jeans that magically fit them all over, and the rest of us chumps can’t ever find a pair that doesn’t gape here or ride up or slouch down or have about four yards of extra fabric here and there.
I knew that having dresses and blazers altered was probably something they were doing, but to me, having alterations done generally means having my jeans hemmed and then simply living with the fact that I will always be adjusting my clothing while I’m wearing it because I have curves from here to ya-ya, some things don’t fit right, and the world is just unfair that way. I didn’t think that having everything tailored was something that people did.
It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t know this. But no one ever told me. I was told about bikini season and dieting and targeting your “problem areas” and avoiding horizontal stripes. No one told me that Jennifer Aniston is out there wearing a bigger size of Ralph Lauren t-shirt and having it altered to fit her.
I sat there after I was told this story, and I really thought about how hard I have worked not to care about the number or the letter on the tag of my clothes, how hard I have tried to just love my body the way it is, and where I’ve succeeded and failed. I thought about all the times I’ve stood in a fitting room and stared up at the lights and bit my lip so hard it bled, just to keep myself from crying about how nothing fits the way it’s supposed to. No one told me that it wasn’t supposed to. I guess I just didn’t know. I was too busy thinking that I was the one that didn’t fit.
I thought about that, and about all the other girls and women out there whose proportions are “wrong,” who can’t find a good pair of work trousers, who can’t fill a sweater, who feel excluded and freakish and sad and frustrated because they have to go up a size, when really the size doesn’t mean anything and it never, ever did, and this is just another bullshit thing thrown in your path to make you feel shitty about yourself.
I thought about all of that, and then I thought that in elementary school, there should be a class for girls where they sit you down and tell you this stuff before you waste years of your life feeling like someone put you together wrong.
So, I have to take that and sit with it for a while. But in the meantime, I thought perhaps I should post this, because maybe my friend, her friend, and I are the only clueless people who did not realise this, but maybe we’re not. Maybe some of you have tried to embrace the arbitrary size you are, but still couldn’t find a cute pair of jeans, and didn’t know why.
First, the eye contact
Then, the flirtation
And that’s when I walk away
Leaving with what’s left of my dignity
Oh yeah. Smooth.
Reblogged for Frankefurter.
I’m gonna have to watch this movie, aren’t I?
“Can you turn on the porch light please I cannot see the ladder”
“Hey who are you texting?”
“Can we have cake yet”
“Where are you guys going I just wanted to say hi”
“Are you still open?”
“Hey do you guys have smores”
“Mother fucking elevators broken again”
GREATEST POST EVER MADE.
ghsdfjkghsdjk I AM GOING TO CRY NOW
…..Seriously guys. You know if you make enough people believe he’s real, HE’LL BECOME REAL?! I don’t want something like that to be real, especially since most people who are afraid of him aren’t his ‘original’ targets—children. Nooo…adults are scared of him….living on the 11’th floor wouldn’t save me. HE MIGHT BE ABLE TO UNLOCK DOORS, KAY?!
That’s pretty cool, actually.
Don’t make me start…
i read that passage like 25872309503 times before i got it
the bible has the worst fandom ever
It’s true. “Jesus, protect me from your fanclub.”
Guys, remember I don’t allow reposting (and I know if you do because I follow the Axel tag O_O—I’m watching you). Please don’t repost (reblog instead) and please don’t reblog from anyone who reposts~ Thank you <3!
If you were able to find the picture on tumblr, you should be able to press the reblog button.
I admit that it’s early, but this makes no sense to me. If you’re reblogging, then you’re reposting, so if you can’t repost, then you can’t reblog, but reblogging is okay, but……
Someone explain this to MEEEEEE!!! @_@