the same damn pants

costume design/character description thoughts for unholyverse:

frank-

  • in the grand scheme of things looks like 2007 pro rev frank by way of tattoos and general body type, for the most part. 
  • in the beginning of the first book his hair is that early black parade era long bangs thing that’s short everywhere else but like. not quite the revenge mohawk thing. 
  • perky. holds himself loosely, doesn’t really put a lot of thought into his movements, if that makes sense. he’s more comfortable. sick a lot, sure, but very open with his physical presence. 
  • t-shirts, t-shirts with bands and weird prints he finds at thrift stores, mostly, the same 2 hoodies and one jacket on rotation, and the same 3 pairs of jeans. (one blue, (covered in holes and paint and gunk) one black, (also has holes in various places) and another black (the one pair he tries to keep as decent looking as possible.)) 
  • been wearing the same pair of “red” converse for the past 3 years. they’re barely red anymore and mikey doodled on the toes with sharpie awhile back and the rubber is basically gray now
  • doesn’t hold onto trinkets, at least not on his person. no jewelry beyond piercings, nothing extra in his pockets or anything like that. 
  • by the end of the first book/beginning of the second he’s more or less run down. it’s more of a subtle change, mostly in that the perkiness has turned more into “im hyperactive bc adhd but also i’m just tired of everything.” 
  • his hair has gotten much longer. it’s sort of a security blanket so he doesn’t cut it.
  • dark circles, veins more prominent in his hands, and his scars are still juuust a little pink.
  • twitchy. he’s very aware of when people come in and out of the room, and finds himself cataloging where people are in the room, or where they’re sitting in the van. touch starved as hell and has no idea how to deal with it, ends up looking weird and shifty in situations that would involve friendly-or-slightly-more-than-friendly touch.
  • by the end of book two/beginning of book three he looks like literal hell. lost a lot of weight, stands very heavily. his posture is turned in like he doesn’t want people to see him. hands in pockets, feet turned in/close together, hunchy shoulders. sitting with his knees pulled up when he can. his face is drawn and he’s lazy as hell about shaving. 
  • he’s wearing more layers by this point, sweatshirts and flannels and things items of clothing that belonged to ray? or maybe mikey? he doesn’t know anymore but they’re comfy and nobody’s bugged him about it, so he wears em. 
  • rosary. tbh of the top of my head i cant remember when he starts carrying around gerard’s rosary but i believe its at the end of book two? either way he’s started that and he’s very possessive of it (obviously). it looks like it’s a lifeline, like he’s clinging to it more than really healthy. it’s usually in his pocket or around his neck tucked into his shirt.
  • by the end of book three/epilogues, by the time gerard comes back and they actually get together etc etc he gets a fucking haircut. it’s shortish, think august 2014. he’s put on weight again, and he looks much healthier than he did. 
  • he’s still set in bad posture habits that are evident but it’s clear he’s fighting it a little, like he knows he Should sit up straight so he tries, but it’s sort of forced and awkward. 
  • the seemingly permanent dark circles are evening out a bit, his scars are fading, he’s remembering to fucking shave. 
  • he’s adjusted faaaar more than he was. he’s got his weird snarky personality back more or less, is less of a downer. (though he had every right to be before)
  • still wears a lot of layers, though it’s less desperate now. finally got new shoes.

gerard-

  • initial Look: think that one trenchcoat photoshoot from 2010, with the longish dark hair. that’s yr baseline. i always picture him in this as even taller than frank than he actually is so make of that what you will.
  • in the beginning of the first book. spry! he’s chipper in a different way than frank is, he talks too much but is generally a contained physical presence. 
  • wrings his hands a lot, touches his hair and his face especially in situations that are unfamiliar or not super comfortable.
  • when i say unfamiliar i don’t necessarily mean the people he’s talking to but the subject they’re talking about. talking about scripture comes so naturally to him at this point that his nervous habits and tics tend to be less prominent, whereas talking to frank about mattresses and shit makes him sort of odd. 
  • wears the same damn thing every day. black black black collar scarves leather jacket
  • his pants are jeans though they’re not dress pants pretty much ever so there’s that.
  • shoes are scuffed but generally nice, something you’d wear to a nice dinner maybe. black boots.
  • by the end of book one/beginning of book two his appearance doesn’t change too much, though he and frank share the dark circles and tired posture. his posture was already pretty poor though so. not a ton of change.
  • over the course of book two i think he starts to look more and more run down, he’s very patient and it doesn’t show a ton in his interactions but he’s so tired and it’s evident in the lines on his face. 
  • his shoes are steadily declining and his jacket looks a fucking mess there are holes in the elbows and it’s Bad
  • by the beginning of book three he’s a fucking mess tbh. when he’s very much in his own head, he’s twitchy as hell, he touches his face and his hands pretty much constantly. 
  • his eyes look sorta buggy? like he looks like he’s a deer in the headlights a lot of the time. 
  • the lines on his face are very pronounced, and he looks much older than he really is. he speaks oddly softly, probably because he’s fighting with something in his head for the better part of the book. 
  • those parts when xaphan is sorta in charge? when he’s saying things he doesn’t really mean but is still sort of himself, he’s oddly still. he still looks startled and hyperaware of his surroundings, but he’s not moving quite so much, and is almost a little bit spacey.
  • xaphan is a fucker and gerard doesn’t look like any of this when he’s in charge. he’s weirdly smooth and uncomfortably gentle and has the weird pro rev bravado about him and is just. very specifically Wrong.
  • by the end of book three he looks like he’s been hit by a truck like six times.
  • the scar on his neck is grotesquely obvious, it’s blackish and obvious over his collar. he’s cut his hair a little more, and it’s even more obvious.
  • he doesn’t look spacey or twitchy, really, mostly just resigned and tired. he wants to do so much good and it’s so hard at this point, that he’s just exhausted. everything about him screams it.
  • new shoes. they’re shiny and out of place with his run down everything else. he needs a shave, his eyes look softened and not really in a good way, and he stands very heavily.
  • by the epilogues/turning point there is marked improvement. the scar on his neck is fading, and it’s not gone, but it’s definitely not as obvious and uncomfortable as it was. he’s more or less back to his sorta-nervous-talking-too-much self, but he’s as a whole less anxious about it because he knows frank doesn’t care.
  • he wears a lot of t-shirts. he’s had a lot of t shirts for awhile while he was a priest, but he didn’t wear them much, so they just sorta sat in his drawer. he’s breaking em out by this point, and is also following frank’s lead with the “3 pairs of jeans one pair of shoes” thing. 
  • gets very attached to clothes, will wear one item until it dies and then eventually go find something new to latch onto.
  • frank will wear the current jacket/sweater of the week when he’s home and gerard isn’t wearing it. very comforting. gerard things it’s cute.

my hand hurts so bad but there you go i probably missed a bunch of stuff but 

anonymous asked:

Headcanon that Feli does yoga since he is flexible 'n shit and constantly teases Lovi by wearing tight yoga pants and doing stretches that show off his flexibility and butt.

a long time ago i read a fic where feli is in the living room doing yoga and lovi walks in to see him with his ass in the air and then just goes over and pins him down on the couch and fucks him i wish i knew the name ;-;

but yes i approve this headcanon feli is a huge ass tease

when lovi sees him doing yoga in the same damn pants every other day hes just like “really -_-” but he doesn’t rly mind at all

to get back at feli he smacks his butt when he’s in a difficult position, which may or may not make him fall over in surprise and twist his limbs

they probably have sex with feli in the yoga pants at some point

on a side note germany is probably so proud hes technically!! exercising o: WHO WOULDVE GUESSED THE DAY WOULD COME

So, for some of you that actually may keep up with the writings, you know the ones associated with a lunatic mind (RE: me), you might remember a year ago a guy I called Idaho. He ghosted me after several months, hours, and plans. After care, and consideration, and what i considered at the time, a solid foundation for someone who made me care more then I ever had before.

I’ve texted him 2x in the past year, since he disappeared. I deleted him from every social media platform available. The texting came, because obviously I’m a fool for closure, and ridicule. Yesterday, I received a text from him. The first text in a full blown, fucking year.

Jesus, please calm me. Only hours before did I show up to the haven I call work, and unbeknownst to me, my ex boyfriend from several years ago to be on the property working on stuff. You know the one that owned the bar in the northern retired coal miners town, the tall and broad Irish Italian, that help me captive by optimism. Also, if maybe like 2 of you recall, a talented contractor and carpenter.

I felt like I got kicked in the gut with nostalgia. The first days of our romance where I’d come up to the bar and he’d be building or fixing, or gutting something. Wearing the same god damn pants and coat. And I’d go up on my toes, and wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. Fully and devoutly on the lips. He was my haven back then. To see this man who dwarfed me in all the right ways, but also make me feel capable and strong. It made me ache for a different resolution. It made me want to have settled. 

Then, the text some odd hours later. Good lord in heaven above. Let me be. Just let me fucking be. 

I left the text unanswered. I said a brief and friendly two sentences to the carpenter. I cried to my mother for 18 minutes on the phone. I slept soundly not dreaming or thinking of both. I woke soundly not thinking of either. I sped 15 miles above the speed limit around corners with beautiful sunlight, and a tight grip on the wheel not thinking of them. I made dinner not thinking of them. 

I went to feed the horses, and walk the property of my parent’s. I’ve never brought a significant other to this place. Just over a handful of friends. Friends who’ve mostly slipped through my fingers, or pushed away in a desperate attempt for piece of mind. 

I trust about 3 people in my life, with me. With my truths. Or at least as much as they should or could know. 

Sometimes, you must think over all you’ve done, realize that your perspective is flawed, and own your fucked up behavior. Even if it’s just to yourself.