There was a smell at Fogwell’s that rubbed damply against the inside of the windows and lolled out of open doors like a tongue. Inside, the air had a sort of texture, like all the exhales made by all the fighters like Matt–grunts of exertion, cries of victory, sighs of defeat–never quite dissipated, but hung thickly around in the rafters.
Foggy had a lever-arch binder open on his lap, a pen in one hand, and an empty paper coffee cup balanced on the face-down pages. He was before a judge in a measly three days, and his trial strategy amounted to little more than pointing at the rich douchebag suing their client, his former housecleaner, and saying, “asshole say what?” So while Matt hit the heavy-bag, Foggy did some legal heavy-lifting.
Foggy had a weird relationship with Matt’s gym time. On the one hand, it took him away from the office and made their respective workloads ever more imbalanced. There were days Foggy didn’t even go to the bathroom because the hits kept coming, and Matt somehow made time to exercise. On the other hand, it helped keep Matt alive when he was out on the streets. It was work–just not billable work.
On yet another (possibly mutant) hand, while it was good for Matt’s continued health and well-being, it was terrible for Foggy’s because it was 3D, surround sound, high-definition, hardcore porn.
The problem with Lunafreya isn’t that she’s weak, it’s that she’s got Strong Female Character syndrome.
Having cool powers and doing badass things is not a substitute for getting to know a character’s mistakes, quirks, sense of humour, blind spots, weaknesses, prejudices and pet peeves. For too long, writers have used the Strong Female Character gambit as an excuse not to give female characters three dimensional personalities and equal screentime in the narrative.
By the end of FFXV I didn’t know enough about who Luna is in day-to-day life to even picture what her dynamic with Noctis might be like. So how the hell am I supposed to buy that so much hinges on their tragic true love? It’s an especially glaring problem when contrasted with Noctis’ friendships, which by comparison are mapped out in high-definition 3D with surround sound.
Ultimately I feel like poor Luna was short-shrifted by the devs wanting to make a game about friendship and then shoehorning in a plot-central romance. Other FF games with a romantic plot focus (FFVIII, FFX) kept that front and centre from the start and worked better for it.
They could have at least let us read a couple of those damn book letters.
a/n: it’s my fae bae’s birthday yesterday!!! happy birthday and I’m sorry this is late ;-; you are blessed to have yoongi’s mixtape drop on your birthday ahaha. everything I want to say to you is at the very end of this fic so!! I hope you like it and happy 18 ♡
warnings: swearing (ps this fic is an insight on my new writing style!)
Living in an apartment with walls and ceilings as thin as papyrus has its merits, you suppose.
We’ve spent a week with the Audi Q7, and we honestly didn’t want to give it back. We’ve enjoyed all of its amazing features while exploring Pittsburgh further, commuting to work, and adventuring to the beach.
Whether it was smoothly navigating Pittsburgh with the Audi Virtual Cockpit; pumping up the volume on the Bose 3D Surround Sound at the beach; or seamlessly getting to-and-from work in Pittsburgh traffic with Audi’s Traffic Jam Assist, the Audi Q7 has been a blast to drive!
Audi’s Virtual Cockpit has all the benefits of a traditional instrument cluster with added bonus features. For example, the display will show you the posted speed limit, can cycle through your Bluetooth enabled phone’s contact list or playlist, and even has a crystal-clear Google Earth navigation map, all right in front of your steering wheel. The Bose 3D Surround Sound is simply amazing; we were jammin’ out the entire week. Finally, a big hit for Justin was Traffic Jam Assist. The Audi Q7 literally took the stress out of driving in stop & go traffic, and saved Justin from freaking out about Nick’s sometimes-horrible driving. Did we mention the air-ventilated seats? I mean, this was big for us, guys… summer in Pittsburgh almost demands this!
Check out the photos from the past week above and on our Instagram at @justinickpgh!
I’ve read a ton of wonderful meta on Daryl and the way he acts toward Carol in ‘Consumed’ – how he’s more open, more considerate, more talkative, more touchy-feely, and just generally more emotionally available and plugged in than we’re used to seeing him. All of that is true, and of course it’s one of the reasons I love the episode so much.
But now that it’s the middle of hiatus time and we still haven’t heard Carol say a word about the girls to anyone – now that we’ve ended the season with Carol still clutching her emotions in a death grip for fear that if she lets the mask slip for even a second she’ll endanger someone else – I want to talk about this .gif and how it relates to my Carol feelings in ‘Consumed.’
Because see, a thing is that I feel what Carol feels. (Which is why when she said this, I burst into tears for what was probably already the fourth time in this episode.) Doesn’t matter what the feeling is. I plug into her emotions without even trying. And so much of what we’ve witnessed since 4x02 is Carol’s constant struggle – sometimes successful and sometimes notsmuch – to keep her emotions tightly reined in. In a way, she’s trying to feel nothing, trying to force herself to make decisions based on logic and pragmatism alone. (Naturally this isn’t working for her at all, given that by nature she feels everything as deeply if not moreso than anyone else in Team Family.)
I’m aware that different people have different theories about why she’s taking this particular approach, and that’s fine. My personal opinion is that deep down, she’s scared shitless. Every time she’s let her guard down in recent history, something horrible and tragic has happened. So the relentless squelching of her feelings serves at least two purposes. First, it ‘frees’ her to make decisions that aren’t based on emotions. Second, it protects her from the pain of allowing herself to feel those feelings in the full horror of 3D and surround sound. She’s done this before. She knows what it’s like to work through grief. And right now I just don’t think she feels as if she’s allowed that luxury. Other people deserve it (like Daryl). By her own admission, apparently she doesn’t.
Which leads me to what we see her doing in ‘Consumed.’
Since the moment she made the choice to kill Karen and David and Rick banished her for it, she’s closed in on herself. She doesn’t offer information freely. In fact, she doesn’t do much unnecessary talking at all. She doesn’t let people get too close. She doesn’t trust.
But ‘Consumed’ serves as kind of a breather for someone who lives Carol’s emotions, because it serves as kind of a breather for Carol.
Throughout this episode, she’s more relaxed, more open, more honest, and more willing to poke and prod at the sore places than we as viewers have seen her in a year. (The scene at the end of ‘The Grove’ is an exception to this, and I’m long on record as finding that scene cathartic as hell, despite the fact that it breaks my heart into twelve million pieces every time I watch it.)
The examples of this are numerous:
Her straight up (if brief) answers to Daryl’s questions about the womens’ shelter.
Her confession that she still doesn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t showed up by the car.
The fact that she brings up the girls. It’s Daryl, ultimately, who shuts that subject down, even though I believe that he had good intentions in doing so.
Her epic “I don’t want you to die” speech, which culminates in a completely voluntary admission that she’s not even sure she believes in God or heaven anymore. (Sometimes I think this is really overlooked in meta – the crushing significance of this statement coming from a woman who, in S2, took an immense degree of comfort in believing that Sophia was in heaven. The loss of that certainty, coupled with what happened with Lizzie and Mika, has to be devastating for Carol. It’s just one more thing she has to handle all on her own, now.)
Her willingness to show fear in the fan. She reaches out for Daryl’s hand of her own accord, and her face is absolutely terrified. She’s not trying to cover a single thing.
The candor of her response to Daryl’s “What about you?” as they’re standing by the window looking over the city. She could’ve said “I’m fine,’ but she told him a whole story, beginning with what happened when she and Sophia went to the shelter and ending with the frank admission that she truly has no idea who to be now that all the former incarnations of her have been burned away.
The levity of her “You don’t know me” jab after Daryl has the temerity to mock her taste in art.
Finally, her statement in the above .gif, which is a response to Daryl’s question, “Why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind?”
And that is the part that kills me, because she does.She tells him. She doesn’t evade, deflect, sugarcoat, or bullshit. She lays it all out there for him to deal with, the fact that she – the woman who was once the unquestionable emotional center of the group – is pretty much lost as hell right now.
So my point (and yes, I do have one;) is that while the fandom can and will go round and round until the end of time regarding the nature of Carol and Daryl’s relationship, it’s unquestionably canon that there is no other human being on earth with whom she feels more emotionally safe – with whom she feels more free to be the most authentic version of herself. There’s no one else in the world who makes it okay for her to be this vulnerable. (This idea is emphasized in ‘Them,’ when she freely admits to him that she can’t allow herself to “feel it.”)
Her defensive walls crumble when confronted with his understated, empathetic concern. Consequently – and seriously, all things shipping aside – this is one of the main reasons I hope they have screen time together in S6.
Because I need Carol to take a breather and stop worrying about everyone else for five minutes. I need her to worry about herself.
[Huge giant enormous thanks to Donna for making the above .gif just for me. You’re the best!]
Harry: He stands at the entrance of the massive warehouse, looking at the vast variety of home furnishing before him. “What?” You question, wondering why he had stopped. “Have you never been to an IKEA before?” He shook his head. Was he joking? “Are you joking?” “No, I’ve never really needed to come here.” You teeter with the validity of that statement and decide he was more than likely being truthful. “Well welcome to heaven,” you answer with a smile, motioning for him to get a trolley before you head over to the bedding. Seeing as the layout of IKEA is meant to keep you in the store all day you soon get distracted by all of the other furnishings along your journey to the bedroom department. “This chair!” You say excitedly, immediately going over to sit in the gray high-back armchair, rubbing your hands along the soft fabric. “Uh, we aren’t here for chairs,” Harry points out. “But this chair would go perfect in the living room,” you counter. “I thought you were only going to focus on the bedroom this time around? Didn’t you redecorate the living room while I was in South America?” You sigh, slowly getting up from the chair you had only wanted but didn’t need. You walk out of the living room department; eyeing what you would come back for once Harry went off to America. You would get that chair. “Oh my gosh look how cute!” Children’s IKEA was ahead of you. “No,” Harry says, pulling your arm in the direction of the business furniture. Your face falls. “We don’t even have any kids,” he explains, unsure of why he really even needed to explain that to you. You would have never made it to the bedding if he would have allowed you to walk in there. You pass through the kitchen supplies; still eyeing what you would come back for once you didn’t have this Negative Nancy with you. “I’ll be back for you,” you had mouthed to the EKEBODA cabinet door handles that had caught your eye. “Okay, now you can go crazy,” Harry announces as you enter the department you were meant to be in all along. “Okay,” you begin, preparing yourself for what was about to happen. “There’s a chandelier in the back, in lighting, that I wanted to focus the room around,” you say, bringing your phone out to show Harry the screenshot of the STOCKHOLM Chandelier you had taken during your research of a new bedroom. “Now you will have to put it together,” you begin and he pulls away from the screen. “You mean we will get someone to put it together, I don’t know if you want it broken or not, but if you don’t you better get one of these people to come over to the house to install it,” he explains. He was right. He had never been the handiest person around the house. “But I do like the light, it’s very unique.” “Good, that’s what I’m going for…unique.”
Liam: “You’re up awful early,” you say as you walk down the stairs to notice him lounging on the couch. “Still on tour time,” he answer, looking over as you walk towards him. He had just gotten home from America last night and it would take a while for his body clock to allow him a normal sleeping schedule. “So you’re home all day today?” You ask, crawling into his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck. He nods. “Good,” you respond, kissing his forehead before getting back up and going to the kitchen to make breakfast. “Waffles good?” You ask, looking in the freezer to notice there wasn’t much to choose from; you would have to go grocery shopping now that Liam was back. “Great,” he responds from the couch. You take the box out of the freezer and begin your gourmet breakfast. Hey, it was food, right? You emerge from the kitchen five minutes later, plates in hand, to find Liam asleep on the couch. “Five minutes, I was gone five minutes,” you say under your breath before returning to the kitchen to put his plate back in the microwave. You eat your breakfast at the bar instead of the couch as originally planned and then head back upstairs to change out of your pajamas. Liam had just gotten home and work needed to be done. That work: laundry. His suitcases were packed full of dirty mounds of wadded up clothes. You were never quite sure how they got this way. You always packed them neatly, leaving plenty of room in case he brought stuff back. He would bring things back, but in an entirely different suitcase. Your closet was full of new luggage he would have to purchase while on tour because he couldn’t fit everything he bought in the suitcase you sent him off with. One at a time you drag his cases down the stairs and to the laundry room, cursing him for even bothering to bring them up. He would never remember to just leave them by the door. After bringing the second suitcase down, almost falling to your death halfway down the stairs, you grab a pillow from the living room and find a nice space in the laundry room to sit; sorting all of this would take a while. Flannels there. Light jean shorts over there. White tanks right here. Dark shirts back there. Boxer briefs way over there. It was never ending. As your laundry room began to fill up, the suitcases begin to return to their normal shapes. You stand up, looking around at the new clothing store you could start with everything spread out on the floor, and step over to the washing machine. Load one of a probable twenty begins now.
Niall: You had made sure to feed him before taking him out, having learned the hard way that a grocery store was not where a hungry Niall needed to be. “You brought a list?” He questions, laughing as you take the piece of paper from your purse. “If I don’t have a list we won’t end up with anything we need and just a bunch of junk.” “Nothing wrong with junk,” he counters, grabbing a trolley as soon as he steps into Tesco. You glare at him and he shoots you a bright grin in return as you set your purse in the seat of the trolley he would be riding on in approximately ten minutes time. “What’s first on your list?” He mocks. “Lettuce,” you counter. “Lettuce? Why do we need lettuce?” He scoffs. “Because some of us like to eat healthy,” you remark, taking the cart from him and walking over to the produce section. “Alright, well I’ll be over at the pizza!” He calls out, heading to the other side of the store. Peace and quiet. You weren’t sure why you had agreed on allowing him to accompany you to the shop. Yes, you did. He had just gotten back from tour and had pulled the sad face when you told him you needed to go get groceries. You usually have them delivered when he’s home, the hassle of dragging him along to a store full of food being too much. However, you had gotten so out of the routine, with him being gone for the last two months, and the time had just slipped past you. As you move throughout the produce, stocking up fresh vegetables and fruits, a rustling comes from behind you. You turn to find Niall, arms full food. He smiles as he walks over to the trolley, dumping everything in. “Don’t!” You shout, as he throws everything on top of the fruit and veg you already had in the cart. His hand rummages through the pile he had just brought over, pulling out the now squashed bag of tomatoes. “We didn’t really need these anyways,” he remarks, looking around to find the nearest trashcan. “You can’t just throw them away,” you call out after him as he walks away. “Yes I can!” You close your eyes, placing your hand on your forehead, trying your best to remain calm. Things like this were exactly why you had banned him from ever returning to the grocery story. You should have went with your gut feeling back at the house when it shouted at you, as he gave you the sad eyes, to ignore him and just leave. “He’s been away for months,” your heart had argued. “But he acts like a child,” brain had fought back. Heart had won and here you were, watching your boyfriend throw away a bag of tomatoes ruined by…what was that? You look in the cart at the mound he had brought over. “Dinosaur chicken nuggets?” Niall smiles proudly at the box you hold in front of him once he returns.
Louis: “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” You inquire, as Louis begins to cut open the boxes that had been delivered while he was away. “Yes.” No he didn’t. He had ordered a new entertainment center and now every electronic imaginable to go with it was sitting in boxes around him; 75” 3D television, surround sound system, and a brand new Blu-ray player (the old one clearly not cutting it for him anymore). You sit back on the couch as he dissects the boxes. He would try to get this done in one day. You knew him. But by the looks of all of the pieces and parts he wouldn’t even be halfway by next week. The actual entertainment center took him nearly an entire week to figure out. “That’s what you get for buying the most outrageous one they had,” you had told him as he struggled to comprehend the directions you were telling him. He had quickly snatched up the booklet from your hands and had went to work himself. You were proud that he hadn’t given up but a little concerned that he had actually taken him that long. Had he not learned any man skills in that house full of women? Nevertheless, you were in for a treat this afternoon. “Are you going to help me or what?” He questions, opening up the last box to reveal the Blu-ray. He hadn’t mentioned your help not once since beginning this endeavor so you were skeptical in answering. “Do you want my help?” “Well I’m not going to be able to do it by myself, now am I?” “Well I wasn’t sure if you were trying to be Superman or not this time,” you counter, referring back to the entertainment center. “Well if you would have…” “We’re not going to fight about it,” you interrupt. He had just gotten back from tour; there was no sense in bickering. “I want to get the TV hooked up first,” he says. “Well, first, we are going to clean up all of the mess you made with these boxes. You can’t even move in here.” He stays in the floor, breaking down the boxes around him as you pick up the empty bags, twist ties, and packing tape. “Now,” you begin, looking around at the trash-free floor. “Let’s get that TV up.” “Did you really need a seventy-five inch?” You question, straining to hold the weight of the curved television as he pulls the other end out of the box. “Yes,” he answers, so sure of himself. “Okay, well hurry, I don’t want to drop it.” He tosses the box behind him and helps to lift it onto the stand he had already gotten out of another box. After setting the entire television, stand and all, up into the entertainment center you go to grab that box he had thrown, ‘Clean as you go’ always having been your motto.
Zayn: This nap. It was heavenly. You had gotten up early to go get Zayn from the airport and this couch had been calling you ever since you walked back through the door. After finishing what seemed like endless loads of laundry, the couch had won you over. You had been asleep for a solid two hours or so when sounds and smells began making their way to you from the kitchen. You take in a deep breath, trying to figure out what was being cooked. Onion and garlic for sure. Tomatoes, yes. And was that oregano? You sit up from the couch. What was he doing? You check the time. Six o’clock. Dinner time. You follow the smells into the kitchen, climbing up on the barstool to watch him work. His back was to you as he read from the laptop screen, softly going over what was expected of him for whatever it was he was making with himself. You look at everything that was spread across the counter. Basil leaves, white wine vinegar, a block of what looks to be Parmesan, more tomatoes, and three large aubergines. He was making, scratch that, attempting Aubergine Parmigiana. You watch as he moves over from the laptop to the cutting board to chop the aubergines. “A little thicker,” you instruct and he turns around. “Well don’t look away, you have a knife in your hand!” You scold him and he turns back around laughing. “Kitchen one-o-one, NEVER look up from your knife.” “I guess I need a little more instructing,” he jokes. You climb down off of the stool to join him. “Where did you find all of this?” You ask, knowing none of these ingredients had been in your kitchen. “I went to ASDA while you were asleep,” he answers proudly, still watching the cutting board. “Why Aubergine Parmigiana? Why not just pick up a takeaway?” “Would you have rather me gotten a takeaway?” He asks, setting the knife down to look at you. “No,” you answer quietly as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in to press a kiss to your lips. “Alright, then go sit down, and shut up, and let me work,” he replies playfully, swatting your butt as you walked away from him. “Who’s recipe are you using?” You ask once he finds himself back over at the laptop. “Jamie Oliver, now shush, I’m trying to concentrate.” You stifle back a laugh and continue to watch him work, holding back the urge to correct him when you saw him making mistakes. This one would have to be called ‘Zayn Malik’s Jamie Oliver Aubergine Parmigiana’ because there would be no way it would end up like the picture. You smiled at his attempts though, glad to see him actually trying something new. You never really cared for Jamie Oliver anyways.