ok but where and how did the suffer brother acquire all the retro 80s props from the damn pringles can to all of joyce’s phones and the waffles and french toast sticks that were in the store???!??!?? im like tf how long did that take to stock up every house and store with authentic 1983 products and food and clothes??? help.
Progress report: chapter three has reached 28 pages. i may have to rearrange some things from the thumbnail sketches. About seven pages have been rough drafted including the title page. I have gathered relevant thumbnail sketches and outlines of Recovery into its own binder.
I hung out with my mom’s girlfriend and shes v nice! My mom’s roommate is also v nice and lively. she made us breakfast of rye bread french toast and bacon. the french toast was gross but i ate it anyway. i have also bought khaki pants for work.
I am currently using a restaurant’s wifi to answer asks since im running out of data on my phone LMFAO
“Like I said,” I finally opened my mouth, looking down at my plate, “I just couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get my thoughts to settle down. I got out of bed and tried pacing, but it didn’t help, so I stepped outside and walked around the neighborhood.”
Unfortunately, Taylor doesn’t know that Danny is aware of when she left the house in the first place. And now Danny will know that she’s lying, at least in part, because of course it doesn’t take three hours to walk around the neighborhood.
I wasn’t totally lying. I’d had nights like that. Last night just hadn’t been one of them, and I had gone walking around the neighborhood, even if it was in a different way than I’d implied.
Lies that are close to the truth are easier to maintain, or at least to rationalize, but you’re already busted.
“Christ, Taylor,” my father answered, “This isn’t the kind of area where you can walk around in the middle of the night.”
But of course Danny doesn’t want to tell her that he knows more. As he sees it, he’d risk alienating her further if he started prying too much.
“I had the pepper spray,” I protested, lamely. That wasn’t a lie, at least.
“What if you get caught off guard? What if the guy has a knife, or a gun?” my father asked.
Or the ability to grow armor and control fire?
Honestly, it’s a wonder Danny doesn’t seem to have thought of that possibility.
Or pyrokinesis and the ability to grow armor plating and claws?
Once again, I fucking love Chicago. Please, may I be so lucky to legit live there one day. When my sister and I woke up after experiencing the glory that was Hamilton, I looked out the window of our hotel and saw not only glorious sunshine and blue skies, but a row of clothing rocks, lighting and heating equipment, and what was clearly a breakfast table in the alley. “I think they’re shooting for something!”
Turns out the show is called Chicago Justice and Care and I walked past the area they were using in hopes of appearing in the background XD
Whenever I get out of the shower, Hash Brown jumps onto the counter and waits. I lean down and make a kissy face, and she headbutts my mouth. After she gets her kiss she leaves.
Eggs Benedict stands on his hind legs and kneads my thighs anytime I’m cooking. I wear fishnets and lace tights a lot and he frequently ends up stuck.
Hash Brown is so soft that she’s actually slippery. That’s why every photo of her sitting on the top of the sofa is of her trying not to slide off, like this:
French Toast is so love with my husband that when he’s on business trips she will circle the hallway and meow mournfully for hours. Nothing I do can console her until he returns.
Eggs loves having his tummy rubbed, but only if you use your foot. No hands allowed. He’s very serious about this rule.
Hash Brown likes finding hair ties and dropping them into her water bowl. If her water bowl already has a hair tie in it, she’ll store any additional hair ties under the bathroom scale. One time we found 7 of them under there.
Eggs Benedict and French Toast often synchronize poses.
This has been Breakfast Cat Facts! I hope they made your day a little better.
Shrugging again, I took a bite of french toast. My dad was part of the Dockworkers Association, as the Union spokesperson and head of hiring.
No wonder the layoffs hit him hard.
With the state of the Docks being what they were, that meant my dad was pretty much in charge of telling everyone that there were no jobs to be had, day after day.
Damn, what a harsh job for someone like Danny. Continuing the trend of being in positions where he sees pain and can’t help.
“Rumor’s going around he found work. Guess with who.”
Um, let’s take a guess… The supe store, selling parahuman costumes for a living?
“Dunno,” I said, around a mouthful of food.
“He’s going to be one of Über and Leet’s henchmen.”
Those are some interesting names. Über means “Over” and carries similar connotations to “super” (which also means “over”), and the name of the “Leet” internet subculture comes from “elite”, so I guess these two have high thoughts about themselves.
Not sure how to feel about the word “henchmen”, because in this world, Danny could well be literal here: Über and Leet could be a duo of supervillains, with rumors circulating that Gerry has decided to join them as a henchman.
“School,” I said, swallowing around a lump in my throat, “Friends, the lack thereof.”
“It’s not better?” he asked, carefully stepping around the elephant in the room, the bullies.
Those pesky elephants always gotta stand in the way of the TV.
I think it’s good that they’re talking about this, even if it’s only as an excuse and a diversion tactic.
If it was, I wouldn’t be having problems, would I? I just gave him a one shoulder shrug and forced myself to take another bite of french toast. My shoulder twinged a little as it made the bruises from last night felt.
I wonder if the Protectorate has an anonymity-friendly doctor’s/healer’s office for heroes. Either way, Taylor should probably get that shoulder looked at - these painful shrugs are getting frequent.
As much as I didn’t feel like eating, I knew my stomach would be growling at me before lunch if I didn’t. That was even without accounting for the energy I burned running, let alone the escapades of last night.
There’s a saying here in Norway that goes “Without food and drink, the hero isn’t good enough.”
…it sounds better in Norwegian, with a rhyme and a single word for “to be good enough”. Point is it specifically mentions “the hero”. Gotta eat, Taylor!