Topher Lydon
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Everything posted by Topher Lydon
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With Poor Little Kenny... our tiny island of order, caught between two hurricanes set to collide on his shores.
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BTW: The CSIS logo/shield:
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oh very much so, they are far closer than either of them will ever admit. The only one who sees it is Jason. Who, we all know, is rather fond of Steve and the impact Steve is having on the men in his life.
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oh and HOCKEY!
- 26 comments
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Will it hold, I wonder? And how long until a determined Blake figures out the Steve in Steve's steak house is Steve? This is going to be fun. TBH I have no idea on which side Blake is going to fall on this. I think it depends on how the investigation goes, and what Jason's reaction will be *IF* Blake tells him. Jenny-Lynn's the only thing Steve truly fears.
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twenty 2001 The air in the South Carleton arena was a brutal, glorious collision of sensations: the freezing sting of the ice, the stale, metallic scent of the chain-link netting, and the overpowering, electric smell of sweat and adrenaline. It was 2001, the first game of the season, and the energy was a raw, palpable thing that vibrated up through the blades of Jason Jensen’s skates. Jason, the youngest player on the Storm’s top line, crouched on the bench, his heart hammering again
- 26 comments
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Oh Lisa's going to kick his ass
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That and what else can't he do from behind golden bars? The PM sits nice, safe and secure, knowing that the man coming for his chair is now in a place where that is impossible.
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I do enjoy Lids. She's the engine that drives all of this. A lot is often shone on Steve's Genius, but Lydia is Genius in motion. I have always enjoyed different forms of Intelligence. Conceptual - such as Steve. Organizational - Such as Kenny. And Operational - such as Lydia. We're about to get Emotional genius in Brian.
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This is the problem when Weak Men rule. They give command away to fear, and allow it to carry them. The PM is losing control.
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I miss the raw, natural beauty of my home. 07 Thank you for sharing that picture.
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Good Morning, My Fellow Canadians.... and non Canadians, and wanna be Canadians.
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Chapter Eighteen WORLD END: T-minus 155 days, 8 hours, and 0 minutes Arena, Merrickville, Ontario The air in the concrete corridor was thick with the scent of blood, adrenaline, and cold concrete. The fluorescent lights, which had witnessed a brutal, silent exchange, now illuminated a tableau of grim professionalism. The Bruiser, his face a mask of shock, was secured—cuffed and read his rights by two RCMP officers whose expressions promised a long, difficult interview. His expen
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in many ways it fulfills the role that a church used to fulfill in Canadian society.
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Be a shame if a former International Reporter, turned curious English teacher were to find out... Whistles
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I'm sorry what is this ... St...ur... b-b.acks? Never heard of it. :: hides the bodies, and the smoking ruin behind a nice maple tree ::
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Just means Kenny's going to make Steve work harder for it.
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poor Steve C----Blocked by muffins
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Putty in Steve's hands
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Nineteen Kenny Jensen had always found comfort in clarity. Math was a refuge, hockey was predictable motion, and his socks were organized by color and season. But sitting in the chaotic, dimly lit storage room above Madam Chao's Nail Emporium, staring at the financial records of a one and a half-million-dollar empire, he was in a state of exquisite, agonizing suffering. He was officially the VP of Operations ‘Mr. Chase Stirling’ for ‘Madam Chao’—a title Lydia had bestowed upon him wi
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I think, My Grandmother and my Aunt summed up when I was about 17. "We were always so worried about you when you were little. You were a beautiful boy..." Chilling thought at times, but I get what she meant. I stood out, be it for bullies, interested like minded boys, or predators. A case of everyone else knowing exactly what I was before it was clear even to me. I remember my father, never the nicest of fellows, nearly beating the crap out of an older guy that had followed me into a public washroom when I was about 11. One of the only times I can remember my father being worried and scared for me.
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Enrico's got his own book to deal with That's on the docket for later this year.
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I was 6, there was a cartoon I watched. Stupid little thing but the man in it took his clothes off. And then I knew. Didn't understand at the time, but I'd always end up in weird situations. A friend at 9 that wanted me to look at him naked. At 12 My Neigbour (a slightly older boy) at 13 taking an interest in me when I was that age. Always knew, just took a little bit to work out what it was called.
