Topher Lydon
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Everything posted by Topher Lydon
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I live about halfway along it, right where the dang HS2 cuts an eyesore right across it and my damn backgarden!
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I hate those things... Government approved extortion in little yellow boxes... there's one down the Fosse Way near me,,, that regularly has "Accidents"
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I know I know, I was getting it confused for another gun... again... This is why @drpaladin is awesome, he reminds me not to be silly, with a cuff to the back of the head.
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Enrico does have Abernathy's Order finances. (CIA black ops fund) it would be a shame if those fell into a highly co-ordinated, ruthlessly aggressive, and very patriotic Canadian's hands, who is a might bit annoyed at them slapping his husband in chains... just sayin
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:: mumbles petulently about Sig's, bullets, and bullet counting :: I fixed it, a Sig has 15 rounds not 8
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I love that you spot the things that are things
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I mean, Andrew's good, but that good? With no back up, no chances, no gun... hmmm That's going to be a interesting challenge...
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they weren't collateral, they were enemy combatants in a time of war. The three in that room contributed to the strategic and tactical bombing of Andrew's home.
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Morning all. As promised, one Enrico/Andrew double tap.
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CHAPTER 20 December 24, 2019 – 07:48 EST WORLD END: T-minus 78 Days, 3 Hour, 12 Minutes George Bush Center for Intelligence, Langley, Virginia The morning was a cold, grey blade pressed against the throat of Virginia. Mist clung to the pines surrounding the complex, and the air held the wet, metallic scent of coming snow. The sprawling, brutalist geometry of the CIA headquarters was not lit for beauty. It was lit for clarity. For surveillance. For the cold absorption of secr
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Some of these are new pieces, some of these are very old pieces I have pulled out of my archive and revamped/rewritten to work. I wanted to give everyone something Christmas-ey in the run up to Christmas to say a big thanks for all the immense support this past year. Pushing me to get better, hone the craft, and just enjoy my writing again after so long of being ill.
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Happy Christmas Dr. Sawzall o/
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It's going to be a worthwhile reunion. Right now I am writing about Sprogs, Grandpa Jon, and Merrickville tenacity. Go Storm! *flashes of Red Dawn*
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shhhh I have no idea what you mean :: whistles irreverently Rule Britannia ::
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I know, I'm a sap... but I wanted to write something sweet and hopeful.
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Yeah literally just finished writing that... it's... a few.... more than a few... it's a lot.... a lot of people... Andrew is a machine when he gets going. (remembers Andrew's breach submarine fight) yeah... he's worrying when he's immensely pissed.
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Granny Highmore said it best, Highmore men can be remarkably stubborn, especially when they are in love
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Sooner or later Will needs to run into someone that doesn't underestimate the reedy, bespectacled history geek and see the warrior underneath Of course you all know Andrew is sitting there smirking, having seen it all along.
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One of Will's acts in the night scene with Lisa, was to open the National Armories and arm every Canadian that asked for it with military grade weaponry. This was the Churchill plan for England if it was occupied. Canada isn't done, not by a long shot.
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Happy Christmas to each of you, one more little gift of Christmas spirit. Tomorrow we go to a housing Estate in Manchester, in the 90's where Georgie and Finn eek their own bit of joy from the concrete and dereliction of Blair's Britain.
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THE FROST AND THE FIRE Act I: The Particular Ghost The fog invaded London. It was a “London particular” in its most vicious humour, a bruise-yellow soup that poured down the chimney pots of the Seven Dials, choked the gas lamps of the Strand, and muffled the cries of the costermongers until they sounded like ghosts wailing from the bottom of a well. It tasted of coal smoke, horse manure, and the brackish rot of the Thames, a flavour that Liam Carter knew as intimately as the scent of pow
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In the bruise-yellow fog of Victorian London, two ruined men find an illegal warmth. Liam Carter, a shattered cavalry officer haunted by war and a broken marriage, saves Anders Highmore, an ethereal painter freezing in an alley. Forced together in a mildewed garret, their survival sparks a dangerous, deepening intimacy—a fire that could save them or see them hanged. A brutal, beautiful historical romance about finding light in London’s darkest corners.
