#(('and lavi in particular' - SAME ^^))

[vetoshhh]

I think that a person from this particular Nea's memory is not past!Lavi.

chapter: 215

I was rereading the manga again, and, after the release of 254, I noticed something that I hadn't paid much attention to before. Why are we so sure that this was past!Lavi?

Black classic costume, no glasess — this is defenetly not his usual bookman's outfit. And It would be fair to assume that maybe bookmen dressed differently when aligned with the Noah family — like present!Lavi and Bookman do since they are on Order's side this time.

Actually, he looks kinda different from how we've seen him in Nea's other memories a few chapters later. We have some snippets of Lavi's outfit, which is not the same from the memory of "I will protect your memories".

chapter: 221

Of course, he could have more than one ribbon and another jacket in the closet. Maybe he simply wasn’t wearing his glasses that day, or maybe Hoshino just framed his face in such a way that we can’t see them. But after so many years of assuming that past!Lavi = past!Allen, I’m suspicious of everything.

And after chapter 254, my doubts resurfaced — especially because of one particular person shown on Nea’s side of the helix.

Long light hair with bangs, a classic costume, and I bet our mysterious stranger is wearing a tie.

[sammayrin]

personally, I’m not the biggest fan of modern aus (the more distance from real life the better lmao), but in particular the significant traumas of the characters don’t always translate well (which… maybe the point actually). But seeing how the author does is always interesting! that said, here’s how the closest I can think of for a dgm modern au:

Allen: if you cut out the whole past self and possession situation, up until the Order, it’s pretty one to one. As a child, he had a limb difference and was trafficked. He met Mana and Allen the dog, the dog died, the place he was trafficked to burns(? maybe attacked and he was spared out of pity?) Due to the trauma of the incident, Mana gets worse, thinks Allen is Allen the dog and then they live on the streets until Mana’s death. Occasionally Mana mistakes him for Nea to keep that aspect of the trauma. Allen is attacked shortly after, survives, and is eventually taken in by Cross (and his debts). He gets a few stalkers or already has them and finds out later.

Lenalee: once again, the fighting is a bit tricky for a plain old modern au, but I can make some things work! After her parents died in an attack, she was adopted out of China into England to an abusive family. Eventually Komui was able to get custody of her… I’m unsure/doubtful he would actually be able to do this with the systems in place, so maybe foster care would work better?

Kanda: A cult??? I guess? And Alma died setting a fire maybe? Unless you want unethical government experiments in your modern au!

Lavi: … I don’t know about this one. A very emotionally distant family that shamed any expression of emotion or connection as weakness? But it doesn’t have quite the same implications, I think.

Miranda: Pretty easy! She’s still miserable and can’t keep a job. Poor Miranda.

Alistar: A bigoted, isolated small town? Very tough on this one. Maybe such a small town that superstition still runs strong and he was run out of town during a series of disappearances (actually caused by his girlfriend, Eliade).

Timothy: Pretty much the same. Abusive father who was eventually jailed for thieving, the orphanage where he lived had money trouble and he started stealing himself. Not sure where the trauma from the orphanage being attacked could fit in.

Mana: A crime family/mafia?? His brother (for reasons we aren’t sure of yet) went on a rampage and managed to take out most of the family, forcing Mana to kill him.

Link: he and his siblings/friends from the streets are adopted by a corrupt government official.

[riririnnnn]

Alright, I'm here to speak for my husband.

I'm new in Tumblr, so I don't exactly know what people think about Noa here, but as far as I have seen in other places, people generally say that he is the worst coach in NEL.

WHICH IS NOT TRUE AT ALL!

*screeches and rips out your wig*

Firstly, no coaches forced/pressurised anyone to choose their teams. It was one's own wish to go wherever the heck they want. Further, Ego explained everything about each stratum individually, so one knew what he was going in for.

So in no particular order, let's start.

1. Lavinho

Bro

BRO

You are telling me that this:

Is a better coach than Noa?

I agree that the whole speech by Lavi was actually fantastic, and further when Bachira told him about his Monster, not so surprisingly, Lavi told him exactly what he needed to hear because dun dun dun! Who chose FC Barcha?

YAS!

Bachira did, so obviously, it was the best for him and he improved.

Schizophrenia meets paranoia.

I mean, if he were to go in Ubers, Snuffy would've destroyed his 'originality'; if he were to go in PxG, he would've been outshined and pushed into being a midfielder, and in BM, he would've been depressed tbh. Manshine City is the only one which I think he could've improved physically.

All in all, my main focus about Lavi in this post is this panel:

Like, Lavi.

NO!

Guess who called him out for it?

Yes:

JUST LOOK AT WHAT HE SAID!

THAT'S MY HUSBAND Y'ALL!

I can't add more than 10/10 pictures per post, so I'm not adding it here:

In that same chapter (163) of the above panel, he calls out for Kunigami for the goals he missed, and then later (165) he asks him, "Now that you have seen it live, you think you can copy those movements?" If we consider his stoic personality, then it's his way of teaching.

Further, in chapter 164, when Lavi and Noa were going 1V1, and Isagi decided to jump in to steal the ball, Lavi used the blueberry boy as a way to get past Noa. Of course, Lavi was like, "Oh? Weaklings are just noise." LIKE HONEY STOP HE IS JUST A HIGH SCHOOL-ER!?

But yeah, Noa didn't chase Lavi further, and instead stopped to catch falling Isagi and explained him about the playstyle of Lavi.

BRO WHAT YOU WANT MORE!? HE IS NOT A BAD COACH!

2. Chris Prince

It's surprising, but his speech was hella good during the introduction.

And I don't mind that he strips and endorses stuffs. Like, do what you gotta do to get the bread in this economy. Besides, if I were a man and had a body like his, I'll be showing off too.

What, obviously, I'm going to show is this:

Like, the scores were 2-2, it was a PEAK moment, and he jumps in to take the spotlight?

Noa rightfully calls him out for it:

"This isn't your stage, Chris. Back off."

LOUDER FOR THE HATERS!

And you are telling me that Noa is a bad coach, huh?

Chris literally provoked Kaiser, made a near fool out off Yukimiya, and then started a beef with Isagi.

ACT YOUR AGE, CHRIS!

It's like someone throws me and you between Kindergartens, and then I start to write in beautiful cursive to prove that I'm so better than you.

3. Marc Snuffy

It's hypocritical, but the thing I called out Lavinho for, is the same reason why I wouldn't have gone to Ubers if I were a Blue Lock-er: telling the players what to do.

Starting from the start, we can see that Snuffy is one hell of a strategist, and was able to impress everyone.

However, it's been so long since NEL started that we have nearly forgotten that Blue Lock was made for strikers, and everyone selected were the forwards of their team. Like, fym Barou is the best suited to be a striker. Personally, I wouldn't have let it slide and would've started swinging fists.

Also, why are you trauma dumping into a 18 year old you met a few moments ago, just because he refused to play by your sayings.

Imagine someone tells you a story, and you go like, "Why are you telling me some loser's story?" And that someone replies, "Oh, actually, that was my best friend and he killed himself."

Are you getting me?

Further, I think Ubers got the better end of stick because:

Barou Shoei. No explanation needed.

Aryu Jyubei. He was literally the Top 3 during the second selection.

Niko Ikki. Bro is only 15 and hasn't even played for that long and was able to defend against Shidou and has meta vision.

Aiku Oliver. No explanation needed.

Sendou Shuto. Bro was literally the ace of (ex) U-20 team.

Don Lorenzo. Bro stopped Kaiser's impact

At this point, I'm getting my own emotions involved, but I didn't like how he just assigned everyone into positions. It felt like he molded them according to his own wants/needs that is, to win. I mean, he used data of the players to come up with a plan, right? Then why people think Noa is too reliant on numbers?

I'm not saying that Snuffy is a bad coach. Whatever he did, it turned out to work for the best. In fact, kudos for him to help Barou score by pushing Noa aside:

He is a good man and a good coach. Please don't think I hate Ubers.

4. Julian Loki

We haven't seen much of him, but if Shidou and Rin are in close quarters without trying to bust open eachother's skulls, then I think Loki is good at whatever he is cooking. Further, the fact that he is only 17, makes everything very impressive.

I know that we have already gotten a chapter focused on PxG, but it's not sufficient to precisely say how things got to be the way they are currently.

Also, ngl, I do think that PxG got the better end of the stick too:

Itoshi Rin. No explanation needed.

Shidou Ryusei. No explanation needed.

Tokimitsu Aoshi. He was literally Top 3 during the second selection. Like, even Barou couldn't defend against him (at that time).

Karasu Tabito. Bro is smart.

Tsurugi Zantetsu. Bro is speed.

Charles Chevalier. HE IS 15 AND ALREADY A PLAYMAKER.

Nanase Nijiro. Can't say much, but I think he is good.

The only problems are:

Itoshi Rin

Shidou Ryusei

Lol

.................................

To sum it up, Noa isn't a bad coach.

I do think it was a bit not-so considerate of him to just throw them into those physical tests because THEY ARE JAPANESE, NOA!? THEY CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU!? If I were to be there, I would've been so lost like, Man, what you even want me to do?

Well, like I said earlier, everyone who chose the Germany stratum knew what they were getting into. Besides, Noa had made it crystal clear from the very start that if you want to play as regulars, prove it through your performance— what more do you want him to do!? Die or something?

Secondly, when Isagi came to his office/workspace whatever that is to ask for advice. He did give him one, in his own way. It was same like Lavi did to Bachi, and Chris did to Nagi, but each of them gave advices that reflected their own personalities.

Also, considering the environment in which he grew, one could expect him to be money hungry you know, yet, he was against of letting Isagi play in the match just because the sponsors wanted, and denied it till he forcefully agreed to let him play in, at least, one match. Even when he was subbing in him, he bluntly said, "It's fan service." This post isn't about Isagi, otherwise I would've mentioned how he proved his worth and THAT'S why Noa continued to let him play.

Further, I don't understand why people forget that in every match, Noa has explained stuffs to Isagi. For example:

Us Readers, take this as a narration about a character, and forget that in the BLLK universe, Isagi is the listener.

I don't think so that just because someone has an experience of doing something for long period of time, it also mean that they are capable of teaching others the same— Noa, I think, is doing his best; he literally, though for like a minute, let go of his striker position and did what was necessary for Isagi to score (chapter 201).

Just because Noa-Isagi interactions are highlighted more, doesn't mean Noa hasn't helped others too— he was watching over Kiyora and Igaguri practice, remember? Isagi is the protagonist after all, it makes sense for him to have the most spotlight.

To be completely honest, in the end, there is no definitive way of comparing all the coaches, it just boils down to what playstyle you have.

That's it, I guess.

.

.

.

Noa seems like someone who takes the meaning in the literal sense, like, someone be like, "He is such a Daddy material!" And he'd reply with a straight face, "I don't plan to have kids any time soon, but I appreciate that you think I'm worthy to be a Father." I just know he is dense.

[icharchivist]

oh shit wait, dgm250 reactions up

-this is such a cool design from the mind of the problem twins i love it

-I've been saying for YEARS that i didn't believe Allen to be the heart, even when Apo started to obsess with him and everyone started saying he had to be the heart to justify why Apo was after him so bad. Tyki you and i share the same mind. thank you so much for putting it into words i'm going to start yelling. wanna hear my heart theory ag--

Though for equivalency sake i do have to mention that if Allen was the heart, i think Apocryphos would see Tyki say Allen couldn't be the heart and actually roll with it to protect the heart. so i don't think the fact Apo "confirms" Allen isn't the heart actually confirms anything, since on the contrary it's giving him an opportunity to protect the heart by agreeing.

I still think Allen isn't the heart, but Apocryphos's confirmation isn't actually one until we know for sure.

-"You're also obsessed with My Allen" "he's not Your Allen" TELL HIM TYKI, BUT ALSO WTF APO GET THE FUCK AWAY. CREEP.

-So it's attachement that provoked it? bc ngl i kept expecting Joyd took this face out of spite. but does it mean Joyd and Nea used to be close??? Oh the mystery thickens.

-this reaction is so fun lmao

-you're trying to hide something Wisely. I feel that.

SLFHJDLKFJDKLJFDKLFJKLDJFKLDJF

-So Allen not the heart, Tyki wonders why he's so obsessed with him....

but if Joyd and Nea used to be close, wouldn't it make sense of Joyd used to know Past!Allen? So Tyki could have become obsessed with Allen due to vague memories of the past?

and besides of Past!Allen was actually the ex Bookman Apprentice it would also explain why Tyki has been challenging Lavi in particular during fights. NO i'm not letting my ten years old theory dies i have a point i swear (have no point)

-So Wisely is to blame for it??? Makes sense then that the innocence was the thing that more or less broke the lock on Tyki when Allen poisoned him. BUT THEY'RE REMOVING THE LOCK? HELLO???

-wet.

-oh my god Kanda ALREADY reached Mana's grave?!

SHITTT THEY REALLY DIDNT WASTE ANY TIME HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHITTTT.

WE'RE GETTING THERE.

tho seeing baby Allen near Mana's corpse like this is destroying me.

Also add "their loved ones who became akuma are associated to flowers who found their ways down in the mud" to the similitude between Kanda and Allen.

Also never has grave robbing looked this pretty.

God this is gorgeous and stunning.

Final thoughts:

the chapter was so good wtf.

Beautiful art as always, some interesting things regarding the lore. Heart Theory is back on track, we have progress with the Noa memory and how Joyd apparently was affectionate to Nea?? god does Joyd know past!Allen is now the question....

But yeah more questions than not and more recentering some old theories back in topic.

i'm looking forward to see where it's going. dgm amazing as always, incredible chapter.

[ask-lavisghoul]

If Lavis was ‘normal’ (aka, had he not been in the cell) would he have had a particular fashion style or subculture?

Also, in the same vein, would he have had a favorite music genre?

In the pits, Lavis wore stuff like this. He loved the rock genres and some indie that his pit father, Genesis, would have him listen to.

So hypothetically he'd wear the same thing if all this didn't happen, he prefers indie:)

[faeriexqueen]

Songbirds in Winter (Update: 10/5/2024)

Title: Songbirds in Winter. Fandom: D. Gray-Man. Pairings: Alma Karma/Tyki Mikk, Kanda Yuu & Alma Karma (One-Sided/Unrequited Yulma), Lavi Bookman/Allen Walker. Rated: Explicit. Words: 292.1K+. Tags: Romeo and Juliet AU, Omegaverse, Alpha/Omega, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Royalty/Nobility, Renaissance/Renaissance Era, Medieval, Slowburn, Romance, Drama, Angst, Forbidden Romance, Secret Relationship, Eventual Romance, Pregnancy, Hints of Incestuous Feelings/Incest, Family Drama, NSFW, Lemon/Eventual Lemons (Please see AO3 for full list of tags and warnings). Chapters: 37/43. Summary: They had always known that their lives would be planned out for them. For Tyki, it is to eventually become the head of his family as the next alpha in line, despite his wishes for otherwise. For Alma, it is to be married off for the benefit of his kin — to be bred for political gain, regardless of his own feelings on the matter. The stage is set, and they have their parts to play. But being in the crossfire of a dangerous rivalry among noble families is never easy — not when the person you love is the very one you’re forbidden from being with. Chapter 37 Excerpt — A Sentence for Life:

Shuffling was heard behind the door, Lavi waiting. The locks unclicked and the door creaked as it opened, Allen poking his head out. “Lavi?” “Hey.” Lavi tried to look past Allen, but noticed the omega was keeping the door mostly shut. “Is…is Tyki with you?” Allen bit his lip. He nodded, stepping back. “Yeah, come in.” Lavi obliged, stepping inside the room as Allen shut the door behind them. He immediately scanned Allen’s room, the same as he had last seen it, though his attention gravitated to the window, where Tyki stood. Tyki looked over. He had been leaning against the wall, though he looked exhausted, musk bitter and unpleasant. More incense burned, and Lavi realized Allen must have lit it to neutralize the scent Tyki gave off, though it did little to help. Allen glanced between Lavi and Tyki, expression wary. “Lavi—” “I heard about what happened,” Lavi said. His focus flashed to Tyki in particular, the beta not caring to mince words. “About the altercation between you and Kanda…and Alma. News has reached the castle.”

Read on AO3.

[crouleek-art]

hello!!! ur art ended up on my dash for the first time today and although i havent read or thought abt dgm in years as i went through your blog it sent me right back to like 2010 & the peak of my love for the series (& lavi in particular) so THANK YOU SM for that and for sharing your lovely drawings!! <3

Omg THANK YOU, I'm really happy to hear that<33 Ahh to be able to send someone on nostalgia trip with my art, now I'm touched ( ˃̣̣̥ω˂̣̣̥ )

[neapologist873]

Who killed Katerina?

If you are not already familiar with our theory about Katerina being Maria, please read it here. It is also advised that you read this other theory of ours.

DGM is full of unreliable narrators, and there is no better example than Mana. Take this scene from his memories, for example. We see a looming figure that appears to be Nea, a younger Bookman watching with a disinterested eye, the wheat fields of the Campbell Manor, and the Earl's elvish form standing before the Cornelia tree with a lifeless Katerina.

This begs the question; who was the one to have killed her? This is all Mana's memories, the same Mana that has been consumed by the presence of the original Earl and Adam, and the very fact that he considered the Noah to be his family in the past suggests he's always been easy to manipulate. So it's possible that this memory of his is really more his perceivement of everything based around how he remembers things or the lies he's been fed. What I mean by that is that perhaps "The Betrayal" to Mana was believing that Nea killed their mother. But if Cross is really the brother of Katerina, then why the hell would he be helping Nea? Because it wasn't Nea that killed her, but Joyd.

Reasons why I believe this to be, include:

1.) It's the perfect way for Mana to go against Nea and to be vulnerable enough to return to being the Earl. And I really do think Joyd has to be at the center of that all, as it makes too much sense in being the Noah of Hedonism.

2.) The fact Tykki looks like Nea could really suggest that Joyd has always taken up forms that resemble Nea. I speculated that Joyd feels like an imperfect copy almost, or like he wants to take Nea's place beside the Earl, and so he could have staged this all in hopes of him dying. It brings me back to my theory that Tykki might not be a regular human, as his symbol (butterflies) seem to suggest as well, being the symbol of reincarnation and rebirth.

3.) The Earl hovering over the dead Katerina could be him grieving. He resents Mana and Nea, and the death of the only human he loved could have been enough of a shock to bring him back. After all, this is Mana's subconscious and Nea and Allen have shown that it's possible for the two to bleed together in memories and dreams.

4.) We keep having these moments where we see Joyd grinning, but he's just a blacked out silhouette and so there are no key features to associate with him outside of Tykki's appearance. I did once point out that of the silhouettes from the original Noahs (art can be found in Night 187), there were two that seemed to resemble Nea.

5.) This could explain why Nea and Joyd always have these moments showcasing that they are connected somehow on a deeper level than their looks (i.e., both of their exorcist sword scars throbbing at the same time). And if Nea is aware of the fact that Joyd used their similar appearances to trick Mana, it's no wonder why he hates him in particular so much.

6.) In Night 187, the Earl had said that Wisely took so long to be reborn because his memory was damaged after Nea killed him, and yet when Wisely looks at Tykki, he says "I'm surprised. Joyd looks just like that man...". Wisely tends to refer to the Noahs by the memory they possess, but it is interesting that he specifically said Joyd looks so similar to Nea. Road also said to keep this a secret, as she's the only other one to remember what Nea looks like. So that suggests that Noahs forget details about their past life, but would this apply to Joyd when we know that

Tykki unconsciously wards against his memories so that Joyd isn't able to take over

Joyd smiles with malice whenever he sees Nea, hinting that he remembers exactly what Nea did to him.

Also, while only Wisely remembers his previous lives, Devit said "so they're working for your side now?" in reference to Lavi, a Bookman. This insinuates that Bookman could have even done nothing while Katerina died because they don't pick sides, they just record history and don't necessarily care about saving lives. As Nea doesn't side with the Noah, this could further add to the fact that Katerina's death was a catalyst of sorts.

You could also turn this theory on its head and suggest that the look on Nea's face is because Mana was the one to have killed Katerina under the Noahs' influence, as depicted here:

Of course, this is all purely speculation, but it would make sense within the realm of theories we've made here previously. The fact that Cross seems to hold sympathy for Road and not Joyd has also been on my mind a lot, and this theory could explain some things regarding that. Potentially even Road's fear of Joyd.

[lovemeian]

date delivery! #001

EVENT: 500 tea party

FOR: @thesimpsprimaryblog + @certifiedhaikyuusimp​ !

DATE: suna rintarō

LOCATION:

Rin’s bad at this, he’s not the best at long-term planning, and at most, he likes it casual. Not really a lot of fuss kind of dates, which can be easy to discount as ‘boring’ because most of the time he likes the dates when he’s lying down and just. Existing with you.

But when he decides to make effort, he can make an effort.

He knows your favourite movie and a few quick researches— his type of solving puzzle through quick flash of his fingers and nothing but a deadpan on his face that you don’t even notice what he might be planning; it looks the same thing as him scrolling infinitely through social medias, and/or trying to find a particular video of the miya twins to use for his disposal — all he tells you is to dress up enough to comfortably lie down and not be too cold.

“Are you going to bury me in a graveyard?”

“Don’t make me.”

He picks you up in all black, jeans and a comfy sweater, mouth curving into smirk as he reaches for your hand and opens the passenger door for you. He looks good, his hair looks different, and there’s even a whiff of perfume. You raised an eyebrow at the blatant display of gallantry.

He rolls his eyes. “I can be a gentleman.”

“Since when did you own a pickup truck?”

“It’s important for the event, you’ll like it.”

“If I don’t?”

“Jump out of it?”

The drive is nice, the air is cool but not too cold, with Rin keeping the windows down until the journey ends in a wide clearing, opening to a massive white projector screen and a litter of cars, all facing it.

Drive by movie theatre. And according to the very nice lady with the flashlight waving people in, and Rin offering up his phone for the online tickets he bought and asking for both of your hands to stamp, and a few orders; how to park the car, food stands are on the side, and weather’s nice tonight, so expect clear skies and stars! 

Her last note is her offered flyer for 1984′s Nightmare on Elm Street and coupons for two hot chocolates or one 1.5 litre of soda, and a bucket of popcorn or two hotdogs.

“Getting cold?” he asks, walking by the booths and buying you a classic horror shirt in black that glows in the dark! He rubs a thumb on your intertwined hands, raising it briefly to kiss the back of it almost subconsciously.

“Nope.”

“Mhm.” But he draws you close, rubbing his other hand over yours. When you look up with a raised eyebrow, he copies it, before kissing the side of your head.

Once the ushers start calling for the start of the movie in 2 minutes, both of you walk back, Rin helping you to the bed of the truck, and from the back of it, he pulls some pillows and blankets, throwing them at your face. “Make it comfy.” As he also, not so sneakily, pulls out some snacks he knew they weren’t going to sell here or might be overpriced.

As soon as the music starts— booming from randomly placed speakers and the two massive ones by the front — Rin pulls the blanket up to his chin and rests his head on yours, finding your hand under the covers and the sneaked in chips and sweets.

“Having fun?” he asks ten minutes in, a hum and casual, but you note the little hope in his tone. Underneath a thick layer of casual indifference. But before you can answer— it could be fear, insecurity, or because he wants to deflect — “Because if you don’t, we can always makeout?”

“. . . You’re a dumbass.”

But making out in a drive by theatre is practically law, so you gotta. Enjoy~

made by lavi for alice <3

[sofoulandfairaday]

I just had the craziest idea - the wildest Bellatrix fancast you've ever heard.

People are going to come at me for this one, and maybe I am completely wrong, but idgaf. This is a long ass post so I'm putting it under the cut, so you don't have to scroll through it. There's a tl;dr at the end.

I am eternally riddled with the problem of Bellatrix Lestrange's fancast, especially for a remake in ten years or so. I think that physically (facially) HBC is a perfect Bellatrix, although she is too short for book Bella.

Today I was examining all of the best options: Katie McGrath (who is not my personal fave but has merit), Eva Green (who is def not Bellatrix to me), Janet Montgomery (I can see it physically, but I don't know from an acting perspective), Natalie Dormer (who would nail the performance but who doesn't look like Bella), Keira Knightley (whom I don't like as Bella, don't come at me - she would do a good job, but she doesn't strike fear the way Bella does), Inbar Lavi (who is facially - is that even a word? - similar to Bella, but is too short and I have seen in too few roles and I honestly don't think she could be Bella). Lara Pulver I dislike as Bellatrix, but I can't put my finger on why.

Anyway, it hit me while I was at the beach so maybe the midday Italian sun is getting to my head but... Margot Robbie you guys.

*shocked gasps*

"But, sofoulandfairaday, Margot Robbie and Bellatrix look NOTHING alike!" You say, appalled.

"Don't they?" I say, smirking.

Book Bellatrix is described as having:

hooded eyes, which "refer to a person’s skin that is too thick from the brow bone down to the lashline. Hooded eyes are sometimes confused with droopy eyelids, but they’re not the same thing." Now, Margot doesn't have heavily hooded eyes, as Bella does, but the shape fits

tall (taller than Harry), and Margot is 168cm (5'6) which is a whole 11cm taller than HBC who is 157cm, and as tall or taller than all the other possible fancasts. If we add a little heel to her boots, she's perfect.

strong set jaw and generally defined bone structure, which she does have. First of all, she has a really strong set jaw, sharp cheekbones, and generally defined facial structure. Forget about her colours for a second, the facial features are exactly Bellatrix's.

"great good looks" of the Black Family, so this is fairly obvious, the woman is heavenly. She is strikingly beautiful, there is nothing subtle about it. Like Sirius, one would look at her and be taken aback, even after all those years in Azkaban, which is exactly how she is in the books. Also, she has that "arrogant" vibe that comes with that particular set of features (she's actually a sweetheart, I know, don't come @ me) that could come off as intimidating.

What I will admit is that Margot doesn't have Bella's thin lips. BUT I argue that this is excusable since it contrasts with her features and adds to her femmininity. Also, makeup that doesn't accentuate them - lips are easy to redraw.

"Ahhhhhh but op!" you say "those aren't Bella's defining characteristics. Bella is described as having "thick, shining black hair" and "dark eyes". She has a dark, sophisticated English beauty. The first thing one sees when looking at her is an Australian model, much much similar to the ideal American beauty standard. She's blonde, with very light blue eyes. It's a biiig no"

To that, I respond with WIGS and CONTACT lenses exist, my friend. The hair could be dealt with easily, as for the eyes, she would definitely need contact lenses, but she could pull them off and hopefully she is not allergic.

Imagine her with dark hair (and maybe even darker eyes). She looks almost exactly as I pictured a younger Bellatrix in the books, right before she was sent to Azkaban.

And this is all for her looks, but let's just talk about her acting skills for a second. She is absolutely FUCKING amazing. She could play Bellatrix in the perfect way:

aristocratic air of arrogance? CHECK

fierceness? CHECK

I have never heard her do a british accent but I bet she can

poise, elegance? CHECK

child-like craziness when needed? CHECK

complex layering that all her characters have? CHECK - and this is crucial in any and every scene she has with Voldemort

Now, I don't think I've ever seen her play anyone truly evil (Harley Quinn def isn't), but this could be a role that pushes her to the next level. I will admit that she does not have "Bellatrix-like" vibes, but then again fan favourite Katie McGrath also doesn't. The difference is that Margot could channel them, if she tried. At least we know she is dedicated to her roles and takes them very seriously. I think she could channel Bellatrix and make her convincing, she certainly doesn't lack charisma and she steals the scene every time she's on screen, like Bella should.

Anyways, tl;dr: I might have gone insane but for her features (NOT her colours), and her insane acting ability, I feel that Margot Robbie could pull off a pretty good Bellatrix Lestrange.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Ructare florem tristitiae

Summary: Allen Walker’s feelings bubble up his throat, flower petals spilled on his father’s grave, for the Akuma, who will never get proper burials. Ructare florem tristitiae, Cross Marian diagnoses, grief flowers.

Parasitic type Exorcists never live for long; carries of Hanahaki should die even quicker.

Allen is determined to make the best of it.

Rosa bracteata

His name was Allen, his father was dead, and he’s choking, drowning in his grief, spilling his guts in the graveyard. His shoulders shook and he heaved until he collapsed, fingernails clawing at his skin until they left red scratches. Metal in his mouth as he vomited roses that, under all the blood from thorns tearing up his throat, were white.

“You want me to retrieve Mana Walker?” the grinning clown asked, curiously staring down at him.

Another rose petal fell from Allen’s mouth as he screamed his father’s name.

Ornithogalum umbellatum

Cross was too late.

His mistake couldn’t be any clearer, standing in front of Mana’s grave, holding a casket that was bound to be empty, looking at a child that was meant to disappear. Allen’s face was covered by blood, and thus Cross did not pay any attention to the flowers surrounding him as he picked Nea’s host up and carried him to safety.

The little brat never should have been caught up in this war of theirs and Cross almost wanted to laugh at the irony of a Noah’s host being so deeply connected to Innocence, it took over his body. Laughing, drinking, and sex would certainly be better distractions than screaming in rage and lashing out at a kid that couldn’t be blamed for any of this, but right now, Cross couldn’t afford to do either.

All he had left were the curses he could hiss under his breath as the child screamed himself hoarse from the pain, choking until Allen threw up on him, the remains of lunch and flower petals ruining his shirt.

“Fuck no,” Cross exhaled, fingers twitching for a cigarette. “Since when does the brat have fucking Hanahaki?”

Mother only huffed. “Why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you know since you watched him?”

“Well, he certainly wasn’t spitting up little snowdrops when he was running around with Mana!”

No, when the two clowns had been traveling together, Mana had been the one choking on the same red poppies he’d always cried for his brother. Fucking Nea, this better be worth it. From a scientist to an Exorcist to a nanny for traumatized little Noah hosts, who pissed their bedding.

“Those aren’t snowdrops,” Mother said, picking at the few flowers Cross had cleaned off the blood. “Aren’t you a bad priest that you can’t even recognize these?”

“Why the fuck should I recognize any flowers—”

“Stars of Bethlehem!”

Cross turned to the door where Barba was standing with Allen’s clean sheets, pointing excitedly at the little flowers. “Those are stars of Bethlehem. I’ve always wanted to decorate with them for Christmas because of the name, but they’re pretty sad flowers.”

Sad flowers, huh? “What do they mean?”

“Atonement,” Barba replied. “And reconciliation, guilt, and fear.”

Sighing, Cross leaned back in his chair and grabbed the entire bottle of wine. “Of course, the brat has grief flowers.”

Parasitic Innocence and Hanahaki? Nea better woke up soon, or the boy might die before he had the chance to erase him.

Calendula officinalis

Allen’s new Master was a bastard, so unlike Mana that he wanted to scream and return to his grave, spill more father’s day gifts and stars. But if he returned to Mana without having saved a single soul, he could never forgive himself.

And thus Allen stayed, carried his bags, found a routine with his Master, wondering when he’d finally learn how to use his Innocence against those Akuma.

“Hurry up, stupid apprentice, we’re going to be late.”

“Late where—” Allen froze as his gaze stopped at a lone man in the crowd and his left eye suddenly exploded in pain as his vision changed, shifted, and the man turned into a shadow, a skeleton wrapped in chains and guts, screaming, tearing at their constraints, begging for salvation.

Allen fell to his knees, his father’s screams echoing in his mind as he began coughing, struggling for breath, orange blooms landing on the dirt road.

“Allen— what are you doing!?”

His Master’s voice thundered through the air, commanding and another note he couldn’t identify.

“The man,” he stuttered out, swallowing down the bitter taste, the copper. “The man, Master, he’s like— like Mana!”

Cross’s head whipped up just in time for the man to see them.

And then all hell broke loose.

Tagetes erecta

The marigolds continued to haunt Allen until he learned to swallow down the blooms even as he fought against the Akuma.

No matter the Akuma’s level or origin story, orange petals always begged to leave his mouth. It made their stay in India more taxing than any other, marigold garlands covering the streets at all times. How strange that a flower that had always represented pain and grief to him was celebrated here so. Allen had met quite a few people suffering from the same ailment as him, though the taste of their hurt was a different one; unrequited love, fear, hopelessness – the number of emotions that could evoke Hanahaki seemed to be as varied as the stars above.

Allen had never known which one Mana had suffered from, but his flowers had also never changed, blooming for the same purpose and person.

He stared down at the abandoned bowl, his arm still aching. He had been so careful that any of the marigolds he brought Narain were not stained by those expelled by his body. But now, covered by the Akuma’s blood, it hardly seemed to matter.

They looked just the same.

Mentha arvensis

Allen’s introduction to the Black Order was chaotic. From his meeting with the angry Japanese Exorcist he absolutely did not want to work with ever thank-you-very-much to the confusing words and touch of the guardian Hevelaska. Komui, his superior, seemed like a fun and kind man, one Allen wouldn’t mind working alongside.

This place truly felt like it could become home if one were to believe Lenalee. Allen even had his own room that was his to do with as he liked, given that he didn’t destroy it. That certainly was an entirely new experience.

Allen hadn’t really had a home in a long while, though, when he was just feverish enough, feeling more like a child than an Exorcist, he would consider his Master’s coat on his shoulders shelter his home.

Not that he’d ever admit that to the man out loud.

“Is there anything else we need to know?” Komui asked, looking over Allen’s file, hopefully not cringing too much over Allen���s handwriting. Just because he had gained dexterity didn’t mean that his handwriting was particularly great. “Your personal data isn’t exactly precise.”

Allen tried to keep his smile in place, but he was well aware that his life had gaps. The entire first half of his childhood was one giant black hole, and as much as Allen sometimes wanted to solve that particular mystery, he was sure he hadn’t forgotten for no reason.

Mana’s memories had been full of empty spaces, and that for a good reason too.

Allen still remembered his screams when his nightmares overwhelmed him, begging for his brother to save him, forgive him, stay by his side eternally.

“I’m sorry,” Allen apologized regardless. “I know my background is not that easy.”

Komui only smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Allen. We care more about your own welfare now than anything else.”

His throat tickled and he desperately wanted to believe Komui, perhaps a bit naively too as his childhood self would condemn, but he tasted mint and knew it was for naught. Komui might care, God, the man had given everything so he could be here with his sister, but that didn’t speak for the entire Order.

“There actually is one more thing,” Allen admitted. “I have grief flowers.”

Komui’s eyes widened, fear and pity flashing through them. “How long?”

“Since General Cross took me in,” Allen said, knowing that for most, that would mean he was as close to death as he could be. “But I have it handled. My Innocence keeps me steady and heals my lungs.”

It was probably not as good of a reassurance as the man was hoping for, but it was all Allen could give. As always, he was lacking.

Lathyrus odoratus

Dealing with Innocence always interfered with his sickness. His own shard kept him healthy enough to continue on even if the number of flowers he’d displaced over the years should have long since killed him.

“What the hell, moyashi?” Kanda shouted as Allen doubled over in front of Lala and Guzol, covering the sand with blood, baby’s breath and sweet peas. Baby’s breath was nothing new given the presence of Innocence. Allen had filled Maria’s casket with it multiple times already, but he knew the sweet peas were for Lala, the sentient doll, and her dearly beloved human, her accommodator.

“Let her sing,” Allen begged through the pain, wheezing, still pathetic and weak. “Let her sing, please.”

And they remained as they were.

Gypsophila paniculate

God’s true apostle was a little girl that made Allen freeze. No matter how much he wanted to fight, to protect the world he had learned to love with his father’s smiles and jokes, he couldn’t anymore, his eye destroyed, bleeding.

Time running out and out and out until—

Rewind.

Miranda’s Innocence, baby’s breaths on his tongue, was as cruel as it was kind, giving Allen more time to fight, to understand, to choke down the marigolds as Road ordered the self-destruction of the Akuma and he watched that screaming soul disintegrate.

He knew there would be a price to pay.

The Noah’s door, a checkered form that seemed so familiar, closed and Allen stumbled back to Miranda’s side. Sweet reassurances were all it took to get her settled, to allow time to return to them.

Allen blacked out with a cough so deep, he thought he was crying at Mana’s grave again.

Papaver nudicaule

Lavi was curious by nature. It was the reason Bookman had picked him in the first place. Their kind needed to be curious, interested in the world, but only ever as its silent observers. Bookman Junior could recite his entire lecture on the topic, the ever repeated ‘know your duties’. Junior knew that he wasn’t Bookman’s first apprentice, and given how much Bookman insisted that Lavi stayed impartial, he knew there was a story to discover, history to inherit someday.

But for now, he had to chat up the Destroyer of Time.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Lavi said with a mild smile. “Yu-chan already told me so much about you!”

Kanda had been unusually chatty, complaining about Allen Walker for minutes, which was as good as ranting for an hour for normal people. Lavi had learned a lot about Allen during that time, mainly his sickness being of interest to Junior. The number of people suffering from Hanahaki was low enough that they had yet to find a proper cure or cause.

There were enough speculations, the church was particularly fond of going on about Eve and Lilith, Eden’s curse, but it was as good an explanation as a shrug and a disinterested ‘I don’t know’.

Although, perhaps, remembering the glass of flowers in his coat pocket, a cure had been found, just not one readily available for the masses.

“Here! Miranda collected them for you. It’s tradition in Germany to save them.”

Lavi handed Allen the glass full of yellow poppies before the youth could protest, waiting to see what his reaction would be. He had already gathered that Allen was used to his sickness, had learned how to live with them.

These flowers should not surprise him.

And yet they did, the boy almost dropping the glass when he saw what was inside.

“Poppies,” Allen breathed, his face twisting into shock, the kind of which Lavi had never seen before. “But they’re Mana’s—”

Mana Walker, the father that had been turned into an Akuma.

Lavi had to hold back a grin.

This was bound to be interesting.

Roseanne giganteus carnivorus

Roots took ahold of Allen’s heart and lungs and he reminded himself repeatedly that Mana loved him, that he had friends now and a home, that he was cared for. His father may have cursed him, but only so Allen would have something to live for so that he’d continue and not plant his roots at his father’s grace and let his body decay to feed the soil.

“I never wondered if Akuma could love,” Allen confessed to Lavi while Krory was still knocked out, head resting against the window of the train. “I thought them incapable of forming positive relationships unless they were modified.”

“Modified?” Lavi echoed, keen eyes, fake smile.

Took a liar to find another.

Eliade had felt something for Krory, even if it might just have been possessiveness, staking her claim on her victim and prey, waiting for the Innocence to get strong enough that its destruction would be interesting.

I love you, Mana’s words rang in his ears.

The flowers settled.

Glaucium flavum

The Exorcist cheated them right out of their money, and if Tyki didn’t feel like there was something familiar about the boy, he would have ripped his Innocence and heart out right there. He’d learned restraint, how to curb Joyd’s hunger. It had been insufferable when he’d still been a child, giving in to pleasure much too quickly.

But the three Exorcists right in front of him were taunt and temptation.

And still, Tyki resisted, especially once he got close enough to that white-haired menace to catch his scent. He’d excused himself after one round, saying he needed to freshen up. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it also wasn’t the truth.

“You smell like flowers, menino,” Tyki commented, watching as the boy quickly wiped blood from his mouth, something yellow disappearing down the drain. “Hanahaki?”

Fraude A flinched, looking like he’d been caught in the act. The cheerful if devious demeanor from before had all but faded away, leaving behind an exhausted teenager. The bags under his eyes were heavy, and the Innocence in his hand must be sucking away at his lifespan as well.

What wouldn’t Tyki give to turn that crystal into dust, play savior for this damned child.

“It’s not contagious,” the boy said immediately, probably thinking that Tyki was one of those fools who avoided flower bearers like the plague.

“I know,” Tyki said. “Don’t worry about it, menino. You seem to be doing as well as you can. I want to ask about your sickness if you don’t mind.”

The boy eyed him suspiciously but nodded.

“The child we have with us, Eeez, he has Hanahaki as well. His family threw him out because they could not afford to care for his health.”

Not that Tyki and his friends could afford his treatment either. Whenever Eeez, Momo, and Clark slept, Noah’s third disciple reached far into the lungs of the boy and ripped out the flowers stealing his breath, drenched his fingers in blood to see the child take another pathetic breath.

“Oh.” Understanding flashed over Fraude’s face. “Which kind?”

“Fear,” Tyki replied and there was so much to fear for weak little human boys in a world as cruel as theirs. “And you?”

“Grief,” the boy said, almost apologetic as if he’d trade his variant for a chance to help Eeez. “And I’m sorry, but I can’t offer you any help. My method of coping won’t work for him.”

Flores de tristeza and an Exorcist, the boy was truly detested by fate.

“I understand.” Oh, he did. That parasite leeching on the boy’s lifespan kept him alive, healed him over and over again so he could keep fulfilling its cursed mission. Tyki wondered what his lungs looked like, whether they were entirely scarred over. “Thank you still, menino.”

Aquilegia atrata

Lenalee was excellent at reading people, even if she couldn’t keep up with Lavi. It was a skill she had learned out of necessity during all her attempts at escaping the Order, searching for weaknesses in her guards, moments where their attention slipped just enough for her to throw herself out of the high towers they kept her in.

No matter how much Allen lied and cheated and smiled, Lenalee could see that it wasn’t true.

And that he was putting too much pressure on himself.

Surrounded by all the Akuma, hunting down Allen’s Master, the fall was inevitable.

Lenalee just hoped she would be there to catch him when it was the time as Komui had been there for her.

Dianthus caryophyllus

Innocence was good and holy.

God’s dearly beloved crystal, sent to save humanity.

Allen had known this deep in his heart, had clung to it when the appearance of his arm had still made him insecure because it gave him purpose. He was not so foolish as to think himself special, one of God’s chosen, but he chose to believe that Innocence mattered.

That it was kind and protected.

“I’m sorry,” Suman Dark apologized under tears he could not cry as Allen kept on screaming, begging him to live and go on, no matter how much the Innocence was eating away at him.

This couldn’t be true; it shouldn’t happen. His own Innocence would never do this to him, had it loved and protected him even against his own father. Yet it was failing him when Allen tried to dig through the violet butterflies, the violent pain. His shoulders trembled terribly as he swallowed down the sharp taste of carnations burning him as much as the artificial insects left nothing of Suman behind.

Cercis siliquastrum

“Fraude A?” Tyki exclaimed, surprised, though he knew he shouldn’t be. He had known that the tristeza boy had been an Exorcist, these plagues liked to flaunt it after all, with their shiny expensive uniforms, and he’d known that they’d eventually clash on the battlefield.

He had just, foolishly perhaps, hoped that it would be a fair battle, one where the boy could give it his all despite his failing, scarred lungs.

Allen Walker.

How pitiful that his name was on Tyki’s list.

“Don’t worry,” Tyki told him. “It doesn’t hurt.”

His words weren’t even a lie, and Tyki knew he could very easily put the boy to rest without him feeling a thing, and yet, he couldn’t help explain his work, act it out, because he wanted to leave his mark on his victim, have Allen Walker grieve flowers for him.

So Tyki crushed his hand, his Innocence, destroyed it with Dark Matter, let the Tease bite into his heart, and left the boy in tears.

Taking his dying breaths, unable to spit any flowers for Tyki. With a grin, he reached deep into the boy’s lung, retrieving judas tree blooms and a silver button.

How sad.

Tyki had hoped for poppies.

Bellis perennis

Allen lay on the ground, his Innocence above him as mist as he struggled for breath. It had never been this bad before. He couldn’t remember a single time where his flowers had been coated in so much blood, he couldn’t tell which kind it was right from the bat.

“You can’t overdo it,” Fo told him, rolling back on her feet almost playfully if not for the severity of the situation. “Your Innocence isn’t healing you anymore.”

I know, Allen wanted to reply. I know, I know, and it is all my fault.

He only wanted to continue on, do as he always had, push through the pain, and fulfill his purpose. Why was it so difficult, why did he struggle so much? Did his Innocence think him a betrayer, nothing worth saving anymore?

Please, he begged into the quiet, his flowers for the first time since he’d started blooming posing a  threat to him. I just want to do my duty.

He grabbed his bloodied flowers with his one good hand and thought about springtime and Mana teaching him how to make daisy chains.

Tagetes lucida

Marigolds were comforting, almost. Allen could feel his throat put itself back together, healing as his body still decided to punish him. He wondered whether the other parasitic Exorcists had felt like this as well, torn between being weapon and host, beloved friend and tool.

He wondered what it might have been like for Maria to be the host of Innocence and spit flowers whenever she needed her throat to sing.

He wondered what her Innocence’s name had been once upon a time before it had become nothing more than Grave of Maria.

(Wondered whether his Master loved him enough to turn him into a doll to be used for battle as Allen would want.

Whether Cross Marian loved him too much to do so.)

“Tell me where my friends are,” Allen ordered and the Akuma complied, truth tasting like marigolds and poppies.

Rosa bracteata: Macartney rose – white rose, typically given to fathers

Flower list

Ornithogalum umbellatum: Star of Bethlehem – atonement for crime, reconciliation, guilt and fear

Calendula officinalis: marigold – pain and grief

Tagetes erecta: marigold

Mentha arvensis: mint – suspicion, lack of trust

Lathyrus odoratus: sweet pea – goodbye, departure

Gypsophila paniculate: baby’s breath – innocence, pure at heart

Papaver nudicaule: poppies

Roseanne giganteus carnivorus: Rosanne from canon

Glaucium flavum: poppies

Aquilegia atrata: purple columbine – driven to win

Dianthus caryophyllus: yellow carnation – disdain, disappointment, rejection

Cercis siliquastrum: judas tree – betrayal, unbelief

Bellis perennis: daisy – innocence, purity, new beginnings

Tagetes lucida: marigold

[sammayrin]

dgm manga spoilers

this is entirely a crackpot theory as I haven’t reread all of dgm in ages, so I’m likely missing a lot of relevant information, but:

is the reason for the earl making akuma to prevent new accommodators? Like, if I’m interpreting past!lavi’s words correctly, innocence feeds off of/attaches itself to people of particular suffering and tragedy, right? And mana won’t let himself grieve/cry because it will attract the earl (I think) and Allen is the same. So is the earl intentionally going after people who experience great suffering and just… nipping them in the bud? if the innocence is hostile, or even just keeping in mind the Noah clan’s hatred of it, then preventing it from getting stronger from feeding or gaining the ability of fight would be a smart move.

I’m not sure why specifically going after people in deep grief is a qualifier outside narrative themes, but it would make some sense to me, especially if the Noah’s past world was destroyed due to something relating to the innocence.

[jeidafei]

Vol.27 Komui’s Lounge Translation (Part 2/4)

>>Part 1<<

T/N: Before we begin, last time I used a derogatory term to refer to a specific popular meme. I have removed the word, but it might still show up in reblogs prior to the edit. I’m so sorry if I have offended anyone. I did not mean to be racist, or to ridicule and stereotype black people. 

I have since educated myself on the practices surrounding the use of the term, and learned that my use of the word was in bad taste and ignorant, and I sincerely apologize. It will not happen again. 

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.

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Okay, now that that’s cleared up, let’s proceed...

Question 2: Since Lavi wears an eyepatch, he’s practically going through his daily life with just one eye. I’d love to hear some fails.

Johnny: This one’s for Lavi, huh.

Tiedoll: Shouldn’t be any problem, right? Since there’s another man fitting the description over there.

Cross: Huh? I’m not one-eyed. I can see perfectly out of both eyes.

Johnny: EH!? Really, Allen?

Allen: Ah, yes. He’s wearing a mask but he can see normally, it seems.

Johnny: Wow. And I’d always assumed…Very well, then. Why must you wear a mask, sir? //sparkling eyes

Allen: Uh oh. Johnny’s switch is On.

Johnny: Ehehe. Since General Cross practices sorcery, we in the Science Division are also super interested in learning about him. We’ve always theorized among ourselves whether a grand mystery lies under his mask and stuff.

Cross: Mystery, huh? Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t tell even the women I slept with what’s under my mask.

Allen: I don’t recall ever seeing you take it off. Wouldn’t it get all hot and stuffy if you leave it on at all times? Isn’t it getting stinky or something? //sniff sniff

Cross: Stop sniffing, Idiot Apprentice.

Tiedoll: How about you stop acting all high-and-mighty for once and just let them know? Or is the truth that you simply added it to complete your look even when there’s no reason to…?

Cross: I’d rather it be such a simple reason, though.

Allen: What do you mean by that?

Johnny: I knew it! So there really is a mystery after all!

Cross: Come on. Who cares, anyway, right? Tis a question about Bookman Jr.’s one-eyed fails, after all. Well, when it comes to the Bookman Clan, I reckon they won’t be unduly hindered even with just one eye. Since their physical ability surpasses that of normal humans.

Johnny: Eh!? What’s with that!? Where d’you get that from!?

Allen: Master, you know something about the Bookman Clan, don’t you?

Cross: Just a little bit about their founder. Don’t bug me.

Allen & Johnny: Nuh-uuuuuh~~~!

Tiedoll: Hmm. Full of mysteries as always, the Bookman Clan. Perhaps that physical prowess would explain why Yuu-kun could never beat Bookman when dueling.

Allen: Eh? I mean, Bookman really is a formidable opponent, but Kanda beats Lavi every time, though?

Kanda: Because the idiot never gets serious…

Johnny: Ugh~~! General Cross’s mask. The mystery of the Bookman Clan. I wanna know everything already!

Question 3: Since Johnny has left the Order to go after Allen, who took over his job of making Order uniforms?

Johnny: I’m not the only one in charge of making uniforms; there are other staff on it, too. Since it requires the combined expertise of various fields. But yeah, come to think of it, I was put in charge of design a lot. I reckon Cash would be the one in charge of that, now.

Allen: By the way, there’s another question for you, Johnny. Is Johnny’s scrunchy the same as Cash’s?

Johnny: Uh…yeah (blush). She gave it to me.

Allen: Really…? //making assumptions

Tiedoll: Aw, how charming. Don’t you agree, Yuu-kun?

Kanda: What?

Cross: Leaving behind a woman to chase after my idiot apprentice. You Science Division folks really do love to suffer, as always.

Question 4: Krory’s a baron and he seems educated, after all. Does he play any musical instruments? The piano or violin seem to fit him.

Allen: He can play both the piano and the violin. And he’s also a very good singer, Krory.

Johnny: I know, right? Back at the Order, I saw him discussing music with Marie a lot.

Tiedoll: How wonderful. I’m sure that makes Ma-kun extremely happy.

Johnny: There’s also a question about Krory’s cooking skill. How should I put this…Back at the Order, I’ve only ever seen him order food and dine at the cafeteria.

Cross: Oh, he’s a great chef. Though not as good as his grandfather, Arystar Krory the First.

Allen: Eh!? You’ve tried Krory’s cooking before!? Where!?

Cross: At his castle. He treated me, that time I went to give him that man-eating flower I’ve been safekeeping for Krory the First, Rozanne. (*Volume 5)

Allen: Oh, Rozanne!! I remember now! So that was it! 

Master, have you known from the start that Rozanne was an Innocence? That flower was how Krory became an Exorcist, you know?

Cross: Idiot Apprentice, who the hell do you think I am? Of course I knew!

Allen: And you also toted your so-called friendship with Krory’s grandfather to swindle money off Krory, too, didn’t you?

Cross: Eh? Don’t remember any of that.

Allen: You did!!

Cross: Really? Well, you pay him back for me, then.

Tiedoll: You’re the absolute worst, Marian.

Allen: Krory is my beloved friend, and you taking advantage of such a kindhearted person…you...Idiot...Masteeeeeer~~!!

Johnny: A-A-Allen, calm down! Please! //sweating

Cross: AH!? We’re discussing his cooking here and I’m answering properly, aren’t I!? What, you wanna fight, brat!?

Johnny: Ah…uh…ah…//sweating profusely

Right! There are more questions! Here, “Please tell us the impression Kanda and Krory have of each other, since they don’t have that much to do with each other.” Kanda, you’re up!

Kanda: Huh? Nothing in particular.

Johnny: Eh? But, back then when Didi was wondering whether Krory’s teeth or Mugen is sharper and stronger, you seem like you really wanted to chat...

Kanda: N-no, I didn’t…

Johnny: But you kept glancing this way when he mentioned that Krory stopped Lavi’s Hammer easily with his teeth, right?

Kanda: Grrrr…..Tch!

Tiedoll: To translate that, Yuu-kun’s thinking he wants to have a go with Arystar-kun, correct?

Johnny: I knew it!

Kanda: Just take it whatever way you want!

Cross: Must be an easy life with such a tongue-tied apprentice. Mine’s such an annoying nag, it’s intolerable.

Allen: And whose fault do you think it was that I turned out like that?!!

(to be continued)

[fleetingfigures]

What is your biggest source of inspiration for Saerno and Luo?

Heyo Skaar, thanks for the random ask! But to answer your question, it's hard to pinpoint exactly one BIGGEST source of inspiration for the both of them, so forgive me if I just ramble and link random photos...

Ah Sae, my first FF OC, and the resident asshole of my lineup. Well, asshole is a strong word, so let's just attach 'well-intentioned' to it to soften the jab. Snarky, stubborn, and a bit too smart for his own good, he's definitely hard to get along with at first. However, beneath all the fronts and silvered words, lays the same child from years past, his arms wrapped tightly around his being, giving no inclination of letting go any time soon. It's then that you see what this is all from - fear.

At his core, Saerno's character is based around the concept of past traumas and overarching fears, and the struggles one goes through in accepting such things so as to move on with their lives. But even then, no one is perfect. There is no steady incline for Sae, he trips, he falls, he regresses into past behaviors and blocks people out because, well, that's what he's used to. It's hard to fully heal from one's wounds, and that's what I want to illustrate in his character. He has a reasoning for the way he is, but that is by no means an excuse. In learning to move on, he'll have to recognize and rectify the faults of his actions, both of the present and past.

Yet, at the same time, your wounds make you who you are. You can accept the past for what it is and move forward, but you're forever changed by it. He may have entered this world with an altruistic heart, and it may still yet linger, but his experiences have warped his perspective beyond repair.

Though, with character rambling out of the way, to touch upon less emotional inspiration for Sae, I do actually have a small compilation of characters that I find to be good wells to draw upon.

[From Left to Right, Top to Bottom:]

Lavi (D. Gray Man) Louis (Beastars) Ritsuka Uenoyama (Given) Rantaro Amami (Danganronpa V3) Ginko (Mushishi) Shuuhei Hisagi (Bleach)

Describing WHY each one fits would take an entire essay tbh, so if you know these characters, feel free to draw your own conclusions ;)

As for visual inspiration, searching Sae's inspo tag (#Dyeing Melodies) will give a good image of what it is that I assign to his aesthetical presence. Though, if I were to assign a few keywords, I'd say: Dark Academia, Raw and Sophistication.

Now onto the boyest boy that ever boyed, Luo Qiang! Much like Saerno, Luo Qiang is inspired first and foremost by a collection of driving themes as opposed to just one character in particular. While most of what you all have seen of him has been sunshine and rainbows, that is not exactly the full extent of what inspires his characterization. The main theme that I wanted to explore with Luo Qiang was one of lost innocence, a starry-eyed boy who aspires to so much, but is faced with the cruel realities of the world. He wishes for nothing more than to make his deceased family proud, to become a man worthy of the Luo name, but without their guidance or approval, he finds himself stumbling, his optimism and determination constantly being tested not only by the situations and people he finds himself involved in/with, but by the mounting of his own self-doubts as a consequence of said experiences.

The stars in his eyes may fade with time, his will shall never follow the same path. With lessons learned, and realities faced, Luo Qiang will instead channel his optimism and dogged determination into the goals before him; however this time, he is not going to be so pure about it. Now, any who have read his carrd will probably know that these goals are entirely based upon lies and hidden truths, which I knowingly set up! Having the basis of his constant inspiration be revealed as an utter falsehood will break him down, serving as his ultimate lesson. And how will he be built up after that? Well, it's entirely dependent upon the support he receives. Needless to say, I'm excited to see this play out in RP.

Once again, with the main story beat that drives my inspiration described, I'll move onto more tangible inspirations. Though, as opposed to Sae, and with him being a newer OC, I find it a tad harder to assign multiple characters as being sources of inspiration. The closest I've found, however, has got to be Tanjiro from Kimetsu no Yaiba. Actually, that anime as a whole I regard as a major visual inspiration for Luo Qiang and his fighting style.

Obviously he's no master of the blade now, but in the future I could definitely see some anime bullshit happening in regards to his swordsmanship. Though in that same vein, Yuzuriha from Under Night in Birth is also a source of inspiration for Luo Qiang, but this time more focused upon her visual presentations and combat style.

Like Saerno, you can find more visual aesthetic representations of Luo Qiang through his inspo tag (#Ephemeral Blooms). Keywords I'd associate with him would be: Blossom, Ancestry and Wanderer.

And as a capstone, it may be readily obvious, but much of Luo Qiang's character and aesthetics are definitely inspired by my own desire to better explore my own heritage. I know that the few examples I listed above are Japanese in origin (I'm allowed to do a bit of cultural fusion if Squeenix can), but much of what I strive to do for him is to try and bring Chinese culture into some form of spotlight. It makes sense that a majority of players wish to represent japanese aesthetics through their characters and companies seeing as FFXIV is produced there (and given how japanese media in general is exceedingly popular), but I feel Chinese culture deserves some love too, and I'll shove it out there through Luo Qiang and all my little Yanxian headcanons!

[bunny-ing]

Can you write about Alma for the character ask thing? ^^

Babyyyyyy 🥺  Disclaimer: this is full spoilers, you have been warned My otp for them: Yulma, obviously. Do I even need to elaborate on that? Alma and Kanda were lovers in their past life and even after their reincarnation they still found each other again and loved each other. 

My brotp for them: Given that we ever really saw him with Kanda and a few people of the Asian Branch, it’s hard to tell. I mean, he literally was with Kanda and that’s all. So let’s pretend that everything’s fine and he’s alive and well and became an exorcist, he totally would have been a great friend with Lavi. They would have pulled pranks on Kanda all the time. 

Any other ships: Like I said in my post about Allen, I kind of see them together. Don’t really know why. 

Their best friend: Kanda, of course. (Again, hard to see him being friend/close to someone when he literally was just with Kanda and that’s all). But in my Alma is alive and well AU I think he’d be best friend with.... Well with everyone actually. 

My favorite nickname for them: Mayo’ (Mayo... Moya... Got it?) 

My favorite AU of them: He’s alive and well and is an exorcist like the others and he’s in a happy and healthy relationship with Kanda.

My favorite outfit they wear: Unfortunately we don’t see him wearing a lot of outfits so the choice is... Limited. Does whatever he’s wearing when he’s an Akuma count? Is it even clothes??? Or is it a part of himself like some weird skin? Is he actually naked when he’s fighting against Kanda???? Damn my boy out there titties out as he tries to kill the love of his life.

Defining color: A soft pinkish purple. (purplish pink?) To be honest I think the whole color palette used in Hallow during his fight against Kanda is gorgeous. Alma was gorgeous.

Would I date them: Without any hesitation. (Though Kanda might kill me for it.)

First impression: An angel. Definitely doesn’t deserve what happened to him. 

Current impression: An angel. Definitely doesn’t deserve what happened to him. OH MY GOD HE’S ACTUALLY KANDA’S PAST LOVER THIS MAKES SO MUCH SENSE HOW DID I NOT NOTICE IT???? Hoshino bring him back immediately or else!

Hogwarts House: I could see him in Hufflepuff (or maybe in Gryffindor)

Which Pokemon starter they’d be: I don’t know enough about Pkemon to see him with one in particular, sadly. But he totally would take the same as Kanda if he could. (Maybe he’d get Squirtle)

[hollenius]

Talking Heads: Are These Guys Trying To Give Rock A Bad Name?

Having fun trawling the internet for more old interviews and things with different bands & musicians. Here’s a Talking Heads one from 1977.

Talking Heads: Are These Guys Trying To Give Rock A Bad Name?

Nick Kent, New Musical Express, 25 June 1977

TALKING HEADS: it's a term they use up in the high-rise skyscrapers that house all the cogs in the corporate machinery cranking out network television for the American people.

The big-wigs in the boardroom – the William Holdens and Robert Duvalls of Network land – have a name for the lowest common-denominator programme non-personalities – the newscaster, weather-reporters, and other old warhorses who sit head and shoulders directly on camera mouthing out their obligatory tasks. These are the "talking heads" of American TV land; utterly boring, but necessary.

Talking heads with greying hair, dabs of make-up and dandruff removed from the shoulders of their suit-jackets, they sit austerely informing the public of the nation's daily occurences – the rapes and murders, the military campaigns abroad, the latest government manouevres. No opinions, no subjective slant to their reports – they simply precis it down, feed it out to those millions of tubes and when it's over they go away, back to the bar or to the suburban home, wife and kids.

David Byrne, guitarist and singer for the Talking Heads, an American rock group, has a song that he wrote and performs entitled 'Don't Worry About The Government'. It usually gets played early on in the set, with no prefacing explanation – just Byrne's reedy high-pitched voice almost stammering "This next song is called..."

And every time he introduced it to an audience in England, certain factions would snigger or boo or howl derisively because Talking Heads after all are a NEW WAVE group and if you are a New Wave group you must write direct anti-status quo, sloganeering songs of dissent. Just like The Clash or Chelsea or...

But Byrne's song isn't like that at all.

It's about an ordinary man who owns an apartment in some American suburb and who lives a quiet, fairly inconsequential existence, going to work in the morning and returning in the evening, who gains pleasure from life simply through drinking wine with friends or reading a book. There is no hint of moral castigation, no hint of cynicism, Byrne just places himself in his character's psyche and explains himself through his song.

It's a rare talent this, something much closer to the art of the very best short-story writers, a talent that only Ray Davies and Randy Newman before him, out of all the thousands of post-war song-writers, have bothered to identify with and explore perceptively.

"I just thought," said Byrne, "that lyrics could be used to strip down conversations, just normal day-to-day converstions and dialogues, and strip away all the phoney embellishments and posturing right down to essentials so that they would actually say something directly, without having to throw in all the 'Oh yeah, baby' or 'Hey, bitch I'm coming to get ya right now' or...

"Pa-a-arty," chips in Jerry Harrison, the Talking Heads' keyboard player.

Everybody laughs.

NOT AN easy band to write about, these Talking Heads. They mystify arid confuse simply because they so patently lack any dint of the arch brand of mystique that forms a patented cloak for the rock star enigma. Four intelligent, straightforward individuals, the very straightforward nature of their music and their image is somehow unique to the genre they have chosen to work within.

Not that the press haven't attempted time and time again to write about them, almost always in flattering terms.

They emerged as a live attraction in the hot summer of 1975 when Manhattan's CBGB's had suddenly been designated the centre-point of all new-wave rock activity, and were immediately slotted in with the likes of Television, Patti Smith, The Ramones, and Heartbreakers as the pace-setters right there at the vanguard of this brave new scene. Convenient tags like 'punk' and 'art-rock' found themselves strange bed-fellows in numerous articles consummated by the inevitable bandying of the term 'minimalism'.

New York rock critics, having witnessed the ugly death of the New York Dolls brand of gashed-up rock, latched on fast to this new austerely dressed-down form of the music, and the Talking Heads, suddenly caught in the swell, found themselves holding down the cover of the prestigious Village Voice with a photograph taken at only their third gig. Inside was a rave-review of said show with an extensive article.

Since then, coverage has been as extensive as it has been perplexingly unforthcoming in regard to mere bottom line info on what the band were actually all about.

What was disclosed was that the band was a trio then, led by the angular, neurotic-looking Byrne who carried all guitar, vocal and composing chores, while the bass-player was a slight blonde-haired girl called Tina Weymouth whose basic feminist features were undermined by a slightly asexual manner. Drummer Chris Frantz was baby-faced and pleasantly effeminate.

Their music, though, seemed incapable of being pigeon-holed and continually presented reviewers with a daunting problem.

Having witnessed the band on four separate occasions over this last highly successful European tour, it became at once apparent that the care of Talking Heads' repertoire – principally Byrne's songs – is not something that casual acquaintance can unveil. At first, they intrigue as much as they bemuse, but the deeper you dig the more you uncover. Like Television, Talking Heads must be divorced from pigeon-holed surroundings because there is nothing currently existing in the rock context that they can be favourably compared to.

Byrne's melodies are so insidious that they often totally by-pass the conventional quarters that rock music usually attempts to stimulate, instead going deeper, often lodging themselves in your subconscious. One song, after I'd witnessed the band only once at the Rock Garden, somehow kept manifesting itself in my dreams – this strange, utterly disarming descending chord motif would haunt me until I'd wake up desperately trying to recall it. It was only later that I even got to learn the song's title, 'The Book I Read'.

THIS IS how the band's music works – in a way that transcends conventional avenues of 'rock criticism' where parallels to established musical forms become redundant and trite. When one has finally achieved some intimacy and contact with the repertoire, the music alone is overwhelming at times. One song – Byrne's 'I'm Not In Love' – twists and turns, its twined guitar rhythms chattering and spitting like snap-dragons with sudden unsettling changes, its chorus brash and pointedly announced – before it charges off, climaxing in a devastating one chord richochet of sound. Each song takes on a personality of its own as one becomes more and more acquainted – the jagged paranoid thrashings of 'What Is It?' full of technical malevolence, the richly textured abrasive changes of 'No Compassion', that utterly disarming motif to 'The Book I Read'.

Similarly the lyrics make themselves apparent in this same insidious fashion, via sudden dazzling couplets or single lines that grab you as Byrne's introvert-gone-psychotic delivery tortuously builds up and up, eyes reeling like wild horses in a flood, his pitching often totally awry but his sheer intensity galvanising because this man is truly grabbing hold of his songs, each and every utterance, like a drowning man grabbing straws.

Byrne's performance is, in fact, full of the tortured passion and gut-commitment that many of us were hoping for and found so disappointingly lacking in Tom Verlaine's recent shows in Britain. Like Verlaine, Byrne is totally the master of his chosen medium, yet there is an edge to Byrne that is so much more human.

Where Verlaine is oh-so calculatingly distant, Byrne's thrashing desperate need to communicate his songs grants his music a whole other dimension of sheer humanity and warmth a million light years removed from the cold arch-romanticism of Television's guiding light.

OFF-STAGE, sitting with his cohorts in Talking Heads, Byrne exudes all the cooped-up mannerisms of a caged bird. He seems to be suffering from some arch nervous defect that would need a constant ingestion of valium to assuage. Twitching almost, he sits hunched up in a chair, ungainly like a parody of look-alike Tony Perkins. When he talks, his voice is weak and reedy and often his attempts to explain certain facets of his songs – particularly his lyrics – lead him into weird tangential awkward ramblings that cause other members of the band, Tina Weymouth in particular, to open displays of ridicule which make him even more edgy. He looks embarrassed and bows his head slightly.

Observing him, I can't help feeling concerned for his obvious discomfort, as if any form of socializing causes the man to undergo real psychic pain. He later admits to the gross discomfort of what is really just a fairly casual conversation, and claims that performing affords him infinite more relaxation.

"I can express parts of my personality on stage that I would never dare do in any other context."

Byrne's past remains obscured by the haziness of his own recollections. He talks about working in art galleries in the past, though he didn't in fact paint, while he claims his previous vocation while in college was to write up detailed questionnaires, until song-writing became an infinitely more agreeable pastime.

In contrast, the other three members of Talking Heads carry themselves in this social set-up with an ease and general open-ness.

Tina Weymouth appears fairly disinterested at first, more concerned with scanning the pages of the latest Oui, but is suddenly forthcoming when a question is either directed her way or else grabs her attention. Chris Frantz seems perfectly in sync with the whole interview routine, lavishing over most of his answers with great and entertainingly 'camp' detail.

And then there is Jerry Harrison, the newest member in the group, a veteran of only six months or less, but who has already obviously orientated himself into the consortium with great alacrity. Harrison is the most locquacious of the band and, with Frantz, the most forthcoming. His history as a musician is already full of worthy fodder for discourse, since he started his career as an integral founding force with Jonathon Richman in the Modern Lovers, about whom his reminiscences are nothing if not extremely witty.

"Well, you probably know that we started the Modern Lovers as a real cause – y'know, we were anti-drugs for a start, due to the fact that at that time in the States all the kids were just oohing themselves on quaaludes. So we'd go onstage and start our sets with this number called 'I'm Straight' which would immediately cause all the audience to start throwing things – oh, rotten fruit, bottles, cans, anything – at us."

The Lovers' history was short due firstly to their corporate snooty attitude to playing clubs of the ilk of Max's Kansas City – "We didn't want to be associated with the N.Y. Dolls or this or that...so we never played anywhere" – plus the traumas that followed the band being signed by John Cale to Warner Bros, who after financing an album (produced by Cale – it was finally released last year by Beserkley) decided to drop the band, leaving them penniless in Los Angeles.

Even when the album was being made, Harrison claims there were problems.

"Well this was around the time when Jonathan was starting to want to write and sing only happy songs (laughs). So there'd be continual arguments between Cale and him over how we should sing certain numbers. Cale would be saying 'Now, Jonathon, I want you to sing this in a mean way. And Jonathon would just look at him, y'know – 'Mean? I won't sing mean! I don't feel mean!"

"And he (Richman) kept going through changes of direction. Like one time he'd be totally into the Velvet Underground and early Stooges, and then he was suddenly enamoured with Van Morrison's Astral Weeks and he'd want to alter his whole style. Also he's a total astrology freak. You know that song, 'Astral Plane'? Well he was always having these visions – or so he said – and writing songs about them. Things like....oh God (he starts laughing again) 'I saw you by, the waterway, the waterway, the waterway' – just on and on. We'd have to tell him to forget it."

After the Modern Lovers broke up, Richman briefly went onstage backed only by a bunch of kids beating rolled-up newspapers in time to his songs, before disappearing altogether for a long spell to (according to John Cale) lock himself in his bedroom.

When Harrison is asked whether he feels more comfortable being in Talking Heads than Richman's motley crew he simply sighs, "Infinitely."

MUCH OF the conversation is taken up with the subject of the British New Wave and how the remarkably civilised T. Heads have found themselves having to cope with the more agressive elements at their concerts, particularly as they've been supporting the head-banger's friend, The Ramones.

Seems the atmosphere has never actually soured and that circumstances have been pretty agreeable all the way along.

From the other new wave bands of this country, T. Heads claim not to have incurred any particular animosity.

"Only Rat Scabies has caused a scene," claims Weymouth. "He appeared backstage at the Greyhound in Croydon and tried to get one of us to fight him. When we showed ourselves to be totally disinterested in that course of action, he contented himself with spitting on the floor and walking out. I felt rather sorry for him."

Meanwhile back in New York, the band have yet to break out of the New York club circuit set-up they've been working in for at least the last two years.

A record deal with Sire (whose head, Seymour Stein, is the only executive to have fully committed himself to the New Wave, having also inked The Ramones, Richard Hell, and now, apparently, The Dead Boys, – a Cleveland pastiche of England's punk excesses) has produced the single 'Love Goes To Building On Fire', an addictive though comparatively slight song from the band's repertoire.

A Talking Heads album however is scheduled for September release produced by Tony Bongiovi and with five backing tracks already in the can. Ten tracks are scheduled – all Byrne originals including 'Pyschokiller', 'The Book I Read', 'No Compassion', 'Happy Day', and 'I'm Not In Love', the only unfortunate matter being the probable exclusion of the band's brilliantly terse rendering of Al Green's 'Take Me To The River'.

The band are still a guaranteed sell-out at C.B.G.B.'s on any given night, a not inconsiderable feat as many other similarly prestigious local bands are unable apparently to do the same – and on their own minor league waterfront they've gauged a strong cult audience.

But then there is something extremely addictive about this band's music – potent enough to make Byrne an object of paranoid fear in the eyes of Tom Verlaine (who according to Weymouth is very nervous of Byrne's status on the New York scene – as perverted a compliment as anything that can be divined from Verlaine's psyche one supposes). Meanwhile Byrne is also considered the most singularly brilliant new songwriter currently in the States by John Cale, and even Lou Reed has lent a sizeable quota of suspiciously paternal advice.

Weymouth: "Yeah, I'd say he was actually genuinely trying to help us. I wouldn't say he was trying to rip us off, for example."

Byrne: "That's not true."

Weymouth: "How can you say that, David? I mean..."

Byrne: "Because he told me he ripped some of my ideas off. Not that I'm angry or anything."

How did the...uh gentleman go about this paternal business then?

"God...he'd invite us round to his apartment and insult us for a solid hour, particularly me. He'd always insult the clothes I was wearing, or my shoes. Then after that, he'd start to be more reasonable and actually have an agreeable conversation with us."

Byrne goes silent for a minute and then, for the first time, he seems calm and relaxed.

"Do you want to know...I'll tell you how much we've come on in the last two years, the real symbol of progress in Talking Heads, Now I can go round to Lou Reed's apartment and I can be rude to him!"