#charmingpplincardigans

[halfdeadfriedrice]

@charmingpplincardigans is it okay if I bring this out of the notes so I can have easier access to be unhinged about it

[eugeniedanglars]

The Umbrella Academy (but really just the Hargreeves siblings) + The Onion headlines

[alwaysalreadyangry]

35, 72

35. The Way Young Lovers Do - Van Morrison

more astral weeks!! honestly it’s just a great album. 

72. For Myrtle - Louise Bichan

this is from a wonderful album that came out in 2016, here’s a description of the project from Boston Irish:

Such is the case for Brighton resident Louise Bichan, a fiddler from Scotland’s Orkney Islands studying at the Berklee College of Music who four years ago embarked on an effort to retrace the epic journey taken by her grandmother, Margaret S. Tait, across Canada more than six decades ago. Now, Bichan’s Margaret S. Tait Project has yielded the album “Out of My Own Light,” a suite of instrumental pieces composed by Bichan, plus restored archival recordings of Tait’s performance of Scottish songs on Canadian radio during her trip. Bichan draws on the Orkney fiddle tradition (she began playing at age 7) for her compositions while incorporating other influences and styles – chamber-folk, jazz, experimental – assisted by a quintet of musicians on fiddle, double bass, cello, piano, tenor guitar and percussion.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

Harvest? Spice?

harvest - what fictional character do you most identify with? Why? idk who i kin. maybe han solo. just real tired, real bisexual, constantly struggling with various forms of technology. prickly and slightly put upon at all times. not as smooth as he thinks he is. lotta emoting with forehead wrinkles.

answered spice!

[z-bot]

Neon lights! Street light!

People! Living just to find emotion~!

Neon Lights: What’s you aesthetic?

Hmm. Red and gold. Organized clutter. Skulls and psychopomps. Urban decay. Traffic lights shining through the broken window of a mausoleum.

1960s Star Trek. The Jetsons. Googie architecture. Raygun Gothic. NUCLEAR SEMIOTICS (thanks Squid). The way this sort of aesthetic dovetails nicely with the southwestern deserts. Long stretches of highway with nothing but an abandoned gas station for a hundred miles.

Saguaros. Reptiles. The flicker of heat and mirage. Dazzling sunsets. The way the moon turns the desert pavement white and the mountains blue.

(I like to THINK this describes my aesthetic, but really it’s probably just “Halloween decorations left up year-round”.)

Street Light: You run through the dark and you think something is chasing you. In the distance you discover one single street light. Do you run towards it, knowing you will be able to see better but also you will be spotted much easier? Or stay in the dark?

I would stay in the dark. It is a real life quirk of mine that I tend to move around my apartment, in houses, outside, in most environments without ever turning a light on. I think the universe made “good night vision” my trade off for having -11 diopter myopia. But, also due to the severe myopia and ever-present threat of retinal detachment, I think a lot about how I might move through my environment without being able to see it and have more practical experience using my other senses to move around than the average sighted person I guess.

So I’m comfortable moving around in the dim and the dark for practical reasons.

But, another real life quirk is that I learned to make friends with creepy creatures and scary monsters at a very young age. Blah blah childhood trauma blah blah “humans are the real monsters”, the world is scary enough as it is, so baby Z had many fantasies about befriending cryptids and ghosts and demons that have had a profound effect on my psyche to this day. I can say I don’t believe in ghosts and monsters all I like, but that ancient part of the brain that makes people afraid to look out the window at night would still hold sway if I hadn’t. It’s been replaced by dreams about holding hands with a wendigo while I walk through the woods. A+ do recommend.

Anyway, I would not run towards that light for fear of scaring off a potential friend.

(Unless I was in mountain lion country. I am still very much afraid of mountain lions.)

[mousewitchy]

Of Jet Planes and Unsuspecting Birds

A ficlet inspired by @charmingpplincardigans‘ post, wherein two angels do some drinking and Aziraphale is oblivious.

“What does handsome even mean, anyway?” Aziraphale slurred. “‘S ridic- … ridic… anyway it’s quite silly, I think.” “Wha?” Crowley lifted his head off of the arm of Aziraphale’s couch—it might once have borne a remarkable resemblance to the slick black minimalist kind of thing that Crowley liked to acquire, except that it was now what Crowley insisted was a truly egregious shade of tartan, comfortably overstuffed and no longer suitable for Crowley’s flat.

Crowley blamed Aziraphale, which left Aziraphale feeling quite pleased with his new sofa and wondering who exactly had done it. “Who’s handsome? I’m quite handsome, I think.”

“Nononono, not being handsome. The word. Hand-some. It’s a funny word.” Aziraphale wrestled with his thoughts. His thoughts, having been greatly bolstered by the addition of inhuman amounts of alcohol, wrestled right back. “I-“ Aziraphale said. “I mean you do have hands.” “Well, technically,” Crowley allowed. He lifted the hands in question and waggled them in a way that warmed Aziraphale’s cheeks considerably. “They’re quite clever, you know. Hands. Fantastic inventions. All kinds of things to do with them. I suppose we’re both quite handsome, when you look at it that way.” “Yes,” Aziraphale said. This was not the conversation they were supposed to be having, he was sure of it. “Wait, what?” Crowley groaned, and Aziraphale’s body suddenly had feelings where he’d always managed to studiously avoid them before. “Angel,” Crowley said urgently, glasses tipping down his—it was quite a handsome face, Aziraphale thought, how had he never noticed that? “You are, you know. Quite handsome. I just never looked before,” Aziraphale said. Crowley sat up and rubbed his eyes with the air of one who had been blackout drunk only the moment before but has suddenly become quite sober. “You’ve been looking at me for 6,000 years,” he said. “What do you mean you never noticed?” Sobriety crashed into Aziraphale like certain birds crash into aircraft engines, when those aircraft are full of passengers and over the open water. Crowley stared at him. Aziraphale’s thoughts were a screaming mess, strapping on oxygen masks and assuming crash positions. “It’s just that you’re you,” Aziraphale began. Crowley flinched. “No, no, my dear. I just never paid much attention to the outside, you see. It wasn’t my job.” “And now you are?” Crowley asked. He was smirking. Aziraphale was struck with the sudden urge to smirk, himself. Maybe if he smirked, Crowley would smirk … closer. Much closer. Aziraphale opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again miserably. Somewhere in the back of his brain, a pilot was asking everyone to please remain calm and remember that their seats could be used as flotation devices in the event of an unscheduled water landing. “You’ve lived here for 6,000 years,” Crowley said slowly, “and not once noticed the way I look.” “Of course I have! Not. I have not.” Aziraphale looked down at the space in his lap where Crowley’s legs had recently been. He sighed and slumped back into the sofa. He glared half-heartedly at the bookshop’s telephone, but it stubbornly refused to ring. Crowley’s smirk softened into something Aziraphale had only caught glimpses of before, fond and exasperated. Every inch of his skin felt hot and tight with anticipation and embarrassment. “Better late than never, I suppose,” Crowley said, standing. “Come on, Angel. I could do with some food. Crepes? You can notice me all you’d like over crepes.” “Oh dear,” said Aziraphale, whose head felt like a large passenger airplane making a violently unscheduled landing on the water. Crowley opened the door. “I’ve been looking at you for millennia. Only fair to return the favor.” * Aziraphale noticed Crowley a lot over crepes. Crowley, being Crowley, had ordered an entire table of foods both sweet and savory, some of which Aziraphale was positive hadn’t been prepared in centuries. Those, he politely re-miracled when Crowley was looking elsewhere. Crowley had an eye for what things looked like, Aziraphale decided privately, but he’d never truly appreciated the nuance of flavor the way Aziraphale had. Crowley lounged across the table—there was no other word for it, it was a posture that managed to convey that he was both very interested and not interested at all in whatever might happen next.

Aziraphale—Angel, Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Friend to both the Antichrist and the serpent of Eden—fidgeted with his fork and watched the aforementioned serpent as subtly as possible. “You’re staring,” Crowley said. There was laughter in his voice. Real laughter, not the sneering, dismissive kind that Crowley used to scoff at everything else. The sound of it was unexpectedly lovely, the feel of it was like sitting in a favorite chair surrounded by stacks of books with the late sun shining through the window and Aziraphale puzzling through another botched translation. It was the smell of old paper, the satisfaction of having found just the right words. Crowley was a puzzle, and Aziraphale loved puzzles. Crowley, Aziraphale was beginning to realize, was Aziraphale’s very favorite puzzle of all. “Have I got something on my face?” Crowley asked, amused. A speck of whipped cream to the right of his mouth that Aziraphale had in fact noticed trembled and winked out of existence as Crowley summarily disbelieved in it. At the surrounding tables, dozens of angry patrons began to complain loudly that all the whipped cream had gone from their dishes. The servers were just as surprised, as was the dessert chef, who found himself in possession of an industrial-sized mixing bowl full to the brim with absolutely nothing. Aziraphale muttered under his breath and the angry buzzing of the crowd stopped entirely as the cream reappeared and everyone got down to the serious business of forgetting the previous 30 seconds had ever happened. Crowley rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

Aziraphale beamed. The desserts were delicious, the company was fine, the world would continue, and that was where all of Aziraphale’s thoughts came to a screeching halt.

“What do you mean, you’ve been noticing me?”

[fourteenacross]

Here are some DragonCon pictures while I wait for people to leave the kitchen so I can heat my lunch up without unwanted social interaction!

Carol was on the banners this year and the banners ALREADY make me emotional every year, so I was double emotional this year.

Obligatory.

I’ve had a rough month or so and my friends are very good people who were there for me through it and continue to be way better than I deserve. I wish we could see each other more than twice a year :\ (Also, Thursday night is Mai-tais night and it was also the drunkest I was all con, which might be a new record. IN MY DEFENSE, people kept pouring more of the communal drinks into my cup.)

The first draft of this t-shirt had a word misspelled! This one did not. I adore this shirt--I was going for a retro-y vibe and between finding a perfectly faded shirt as the base and figuring out a technique that makes the paint seem like it’s chipping away, I think I managed to nail it.

I livetweeted Travis and Clint’s Friday panel with #mcelroyqanda on Twitter. It was delightful.

The Supernormal live show was ALSO delightful and I am so excited for the rest of the world to hear it.

On Saturday we did some Grishaverse cosplay! I...did not get any really good pictures of my whole Nina costume, alas.

It’s Upsy, your lifting friend!

IF YOU ARE UNAWARE, there’s like, an entire cult surrounding the old carpet at the Marriott Marquis in Atlanta. It was ugly but memorable and we’re all obsessed with it now, even though it’s been out for three or four years at this point. People make costumes from fabric with the pattern, they make regular clothes from it. It’s EVERYWHERE. This year, the Marriott had a chocolate cake with the carpet pattern. It sold out Thursday through Saturday. (DragonCon is amazing but everyone there is fucking crazy.) (I’m including myself in this.)

I already reblogged some pictures from @charmingpplincardigans of the Good Omens cosplay we did with @lisapizza but here’s a good one of the three of us on the Ferris Wheel after the First Annual Revival of Great Comet on a Ferris Wheel, which was a dang good time. (There MAY be video on Twitter of us singing along to the “The Duel.”)

It was a good con! I really needed it, especially after missing last year. I love all my friends very much, and also the 100,000 weirdo members of my insane extended con family who do things like hold a wake for the cardboard cut out of a FedEx man.

[lisapizza]

9 and 52 please.

9. Best opening act you’ve seen?

okay, setting aside all the shows i’ve gone to JUST for the opening act, it would either be damion suomi (opening for mike doughty) because he became such an important artist to me, or audrye sessions and fun. (opening for manchester orchestra) because they put on such a good show (as you know, this was before fun. was big, idk if they even had an album out yet) and i still listen to that version of “bone dry” on the regular.

wait shirt i looked further down my list of concerts from that summer REMEMBER THAT TIME HELLBLINKI OPENED FOR VOLTAIRE AND PLAYED “YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE” AND I forkING DIED????

52. Favorite song you’ve heard live?

oh fuck. see above, re: “you are my sunshine” maybe? or possibly that time i sobbed through a portion of eddie vedder’s set after he played “can’t keep” which ISN’T EVEN IN MY TOP 10 I JUST WAS REALLY OVERWHELMED WITH FEELINGS. every single time damion suomi & the minor prophets played “let my love” but especially at the record release show where i danced with his mom. jenny owen youngs playing “from here” by request at backbooth, which is forever tied to the memory of her taking my hands when i thanked her after the show and then she verbally responded to my email.

i fucking love live music, you guys.

(ask)