Topher Lydon

Orel, again, healing his Finn

Chapter Sixteen: The Compost of Kings Instead of turning the heavy, German-engineered wheel of his sedan toward the looming iron gates of the Merrick estate, Oliver kept driving. His hands were trembling. It was a subtle thing, a fine vibration in the tendons that traveled up his wrists and settled as a cold, hard knot at the base of his neck. He had spent the last hour listening to Tarquin scream into a phone receiver about assets, liquidity, and "ungrateful plebeians," a perfor

Tarquin, I fear, has a new plan.

HAH, I would say "Poor Peter" But he kind of had this coming, he was getting a little too bossy with West. And I have, as I stated, written quite a bit about Peter and Jason over the past few months behind the scenes (I'll share it later this year, it's quite a fun little tale about our little ball of vibrating anger, and our favorite baptist Boy's Dad.)

It was a way to integrate faster, a clause they never saw/realized would bite them like this. "he" wanted a State, the 51st State, big and beautiful. "He" probably thoughts the Article Four subject was a rapid way to solving all of "his" problems about integration (subjugation). It opened so many doors, the constitutional challenges, the protections therein.

They really have no options: Do nothing and lose everything, or back Will and keep what's yours.

I just really wanted to turn the tables on Peter, he was getting a little too big for his slippers. Had to remind people that West (who surprisingly has NO IDEA what Peter's middle name is) can keep his husband in line. Besides I am idly writing something regarding the lost Peter/Andrew years in Ottawa post Carter's Shadow/Duty, and things happened. So had to establish it here. Team Leftovers for the win! (Andrew, Peter, Jason and Bobby kicking butt)

Well now, that was fun. Tomorrow: COYOTE FALLS!

CHAPTER NINTEEN: THE FORECLOSURE Location: The Toronto Club, Wellington Street West, Toronto. Time: July 6, 2024. 19:30 EST. Status: The Hostile Takeover. The Toronto Club had always been a vault. A vault for secrets, for capital, for the quiet, granite confidence that built a nation from a railroad. Its walls of Queenston limestone absorbed sound and ambition in equal measure, smelling of lemon oil, aged paper, and the faint, sweet trace of fine cigar smoke embedded in the velvet dra

Oh man, there'd be such efficiency there as Orel takes charge...

Shhhh it's not that bad :: Blushes:: just wait till I install the gay village, a disco ball, and a drive in

Yeah, I admit to growing the village as I need to cover the stories I am writing.

the Pizza boy *wishes* somebody'd run a train on him. Poor Axl, wistfully watching Orel and wishing.

Oh dear, the sausage jokes.... KLOP!

I mean you know Peter would paint all inch and a half of it, in great detail, with a sardonic smile and a tilt to his head amused that stereotypes about fascists are true.

It's the entire focus of DEED, which is next after Carter.

you're the best!

I am amused at the idea of them having to babysit the new Three Musketeers... and Uncle Peter smugly saying "Serves you right, you were that bad when you were small!"

Again I am only contemplating this scene... but I am amused at Hewey, Dewy, and Louis Harding. I don't know if I will do it, but I am amused by the thought

I have a yearning, it's a quiet gnawing inside of me. I know that this yearning does not define me, but I cannot just deny it. He looks at me, that way of his, the hunger in his eyes across the cafeteria. I know what he wants, I know it somewhere deep inside of me, down where things are primal. Where that yearning of my own lurks. Perhaps I should ask him... or confront him. Yeah, I could challenge him. Get up close to him and stare him down, ask him why his eyes bore into my soul every day while he chews a granola bar. God, why? Why does he have to smirk, like he knows what it's doing to me. As if he isn't feeling the exact same thing when I smirk back. I know it, I have to be right, right? You don't share longing like that... that hunger with another person and not feel it. You know the feeling, that burning in your cheeks, the heat.. the itch in your palm, and the hammering of your heart that quickens just by being seen? Marc does that to me, please tell me I am not alone. Oh, oh no, he's coming over. He knows! Wait, he's braver than me? How is that possible? Maybe it's not Bravery, maybe it's just that his yearning is stronger than mine... Why am I pushing out a chair for him with my foot, why is he sitting down, why are we both smiling? Yearning becomes something different when it's acted upon. Say something to him, before you turn redder than a tomato and he sees it... he's seen it... but he's red too! Oh man, come on, ask him out... ask me out, one of us has to do something!!!! Oh my god, he's asking me out! Say yes, YES!!! See, yearning is good for something!

I was doing some research into the procedure discussed by Madam Xue in the last book. And one of the potential complications, is that if cells are taken from an identical twin, and then used in a procedure, it essentially reverts them to their beginning, so the chances of Twins of a twin are REALLY statistically high. Once I read that... :: smiles wolfishly::

I am sorely tempted:

I now have fun visions of what happens when the wrong mushrooms end up on Granny's pizza

I mean he could like Lydia, nothing wrong with a little pansexuality in the morning