Topher Lydon
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Everything posted by Topher Lydon
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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.
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Indeed, if he thinks Canadians will settle in and just play nice, oh no no no.
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One of my Beta readers just finished the epilogue of the book, which will be released on Christmas Eve: Suddenly, everything makes sense. Will's surrender isn't defeat—it's the longest, coldest, most brilliant political gambit in history. He's not just playing chess; he's playing a different game entirely while the President is still counting pieces.
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I am just imagining West looking at the American flag they want him to put on his uniform, and his reaction... Biggest mistake the American's made, not realizing one very pissed off Husband/Uncle/Brother-in-law who doesn't give a damn about rules, and isn't afraid to shoot bad guys, is loose with a Madam Xue covering his back. Woe betide the first American through the door of 24 Sussex.
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there is that Twink Electrician that needs his moment to shine.... ( I am still not convinced he is wearing pants in there )
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The best actors can make you boil with anger, seethe with it. So that when the actually do go, we cheer. Andrew chapter tomorrow, and Enrico, up to no good, as only those two can.
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Will Carter man, just when even I think he's done... that character... has moments of brilliance. I promise you will all smile come Christmas.
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Someone's stocking is going to be full... of coal
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Believe me, I held that match this morning... I have two other chapters written for 19 It could have easilly gone the other way. I think I have new grey hairs over it... but I decided to take the bolder play.
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Victory can be a tough pill to swallow. The President should be careful what he wishes for.
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As amusing as that would be... I don't fancy being lynched today Will Carter is still Will Carter. And West, West isn't wrong.
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CHAPTER 19 Tuesday, December 24th, 2019 6:35 A.M. EST WORLD END: T-minus 78 Days, 4 Hours, 25 Minutes The Oval Office The White House, Washington D.C. The President of the United States did not sit. He stood before the bulletproof window of the Oval Office, a stark silhouette against the pre-dawn darkness of the North Lawn. The room behind him was a tomb of tense silence, populated by the living statues of his war council. The air did not hum with debate; it was thic
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You can tell when I've over written, my spelling and grammar go sideways LOL doing major rewrites to the ending of Throne today has me cross eyed. Still working out which way I want to go with it... and I have 11 hours to figure it out... >.< might need to sleep on it.
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Doc, mate, you're chats, nudges, and reminders on how stuff works, I am better off for it. So thank you old man, I owe you a baileys coffee one day
