Topher Lydon

So you lot bringing popcorn? Do I need to clear sofa's for it?

My thoughts were: It would be a risk to Stoker. While yes, she has a watch which means if he shoots her she won't reset when he resets time... There runs the risk of what will happen to Stoker. Hugo has run out of bullets by the end of his dance and needs to reload, something the agents in the room would never give him a chance to do. And Miller was still positioned to kill Stoker. If he shot Dottie and she died, and time reset with her still being dead. Then we can picture Stoker being at Miller's mercy there. And if he is outright killed as a reprisal that's game over. What Hugo does here is prove that he cannot out right resolve this situation on Dottie's terms. But he needs her to keep thinking one week by one week. D-day is elegantly brilliant, and simple. Tomorrow we arrive at D-day. So yes, killing Dottie is satisfying here, but wouldn't accomplish what he needs. And he is desperate to avoid hurting Stoker in the process. He has, however, won a victory. Now to win a war.

Marc is, at this point, totally smitten. I based him off of a combination of three guys I dated. Marc-Andre, Ross and another one I forget the name of but was every inch this chapter. Constantly saying no, but in the next breath kissing me, then back to we can't do this... then we're driving back to his... Trying to be a good boy in a situation where every instinct screams be bad.

Naughty naughty.

New York - 1953 – December 16th The familiar disorienting lurch of temporal transit was a small, manageable discomfort after the decades of training and a lifetime of pain. He arrived in the Tides of Time lounge not with the frantic, purposeful stride of a desperate man, but with the quiet, unyielding grace of a professional. The flannel coat was gone this time; he wore the simple white shirt and slacks borrowed from Henry’s wardrobe. A little oversized on his

I don't know if even Hugo is that forgiving... she did shoot his Alec...

Welcome to the Summer—The Summer of Andrews. So I have introduced our players, now to set the stage. We are going to start with an afterparty at an outdoor patio, the bar up on the corner of Kent and Bank Street. The evening air was still warm, a lingering echo of the sun-baked day, but the outdoor heat lamps hummed, their soft orange glow bathing the patio in a perpetual golden hour. Their warmth kept the mosquitoes at bay, a small victory for the small crowd gathered here. The bar itself

Oh I prefer a bit more... direct and entertaining form of teaching him a lesson...

More than one way to exact revenge, and I can channel a little Stoker and deal with my accountant nerd of a person.

He better, :: grumbles about needing something with flowers, a dinner, and maybe a lot of grovelling :: Total jerk. Of course I am NEVER unreasonable, irrational, and nuts... so you know... I am NEVER on the other side of this... (Ok I am 90% of the time on the other end of this, so he's going to get forgiven... just he needs to earn it. )

And you thought Henry was going to let Hugo do this on his own.

I am expecting Doc to give me a nudge that I got something wrong, I forgot to send him this chapter last night. (Having a fight with my person, nothing major, he's a jerk and screwed up as he does. Here's a lesson folks : If your pet Writer proceeds to get one of their OUT OF PRINT books specially published, shipped long distance, signs it, and gives it as a gift to you... DON'T proceed to then complain they don't like the genre, loudly, for hours on end... My person can sometimes be wonderfully dense as a brick! So he's in the dog house and will only come out when I am bought something shiny and pretty... and EXPENSIVE)

Baltimore – 1993 - December 15th The cab of the Chevy S-10 was a symphony of automotive neglect. The truck, a two-toned rust bucket that had seen better decades, rattled and groaned over every imperfection in the asphalt. The steering wheel, wrapped in a cracked leather cover, trembled in Henry’s hands like a nervous animal. The air, thick with the scent of rust, stale coffee, and something that vaguely resembled old cigars, was a stark contrast to the clean,

I've lectured internationally and some of my lectures are still available in video format. One where I am teaching future teachers an important lesson on learning techniques in unlikely places. How a Cambodian grandpa taught me the most important lesson I have ever learned on how to control large groups of children. I will get into that in Cambodian Tales. I will start that after the Summer of Andrews arc. My friend Ryan and I were discussing this project this morning, he has read the next chapter, and is highly amused. He remembers every twist and turn of this hell of a mess to come And it is totally NOT MY FAULT this time.

I think the lead time was more to gauge mental health. Senior was... pragmatic. He's gone now but that man was always about manipulation. I think they also wanted to see how I developed within Human Resources and Recruitment. I mean I did go on to work for the Department of Social Development for Canada just after this, and given what I was doing for the National Arts Center, my second run in Ottawa, career wise was far more successful, and it followed what they were looking for. It was my choice to go into teaching, and I was also a University Recruiter for a very very long time. In a way, I did become the man they wanted, but I ended up with a choice: switch from Academics over the high end recruitment, or accept a promotion to Dean, I went with the one that let me teach. Funny it all started out so simply, and after the end of Ottawa Tales, I will get into the wonderful world of my teaching, but this, this was the point where I started to become the professional me.

This was really the turning point in my career. It was the start of me finding my feet and turning from being a passive passenger to starting to take agency and moving upwards. And I've been on the other side of this over the years. I would have businesses reaching out to me while working for schools, asking me for my best students, looking for their prospects even as early as the first week of university intakes. They are keenly interested in those students, Volkswagen for example, employed directly and almost exclusively from one of the Universities I worked for, and cherry picked the people they wanted for fast tracks. They even went as far as specifically requesting lesson plans be taught for certain students, paying good money for it. Now that was fifteen years ago, now imagine what they can find out. Upper tier recruitment agencies are fascinating, powerful, and are long term players of the game.

Twenty Wil looked handsome in the morning; he always did. Laying there, curled up and watching me under blankets with a grin on his face. Wil had that smirk of his on his face as poor Jimmy had woken up from his light nap. “No…” Jimmy groaned. “Yes!” Wil was like a dog with a bone, and Jimmy knew he was out of excuses. Except, maybe one… He reached out and lightly touched Wil’s bare arm. He earned a smack for his effort; so much for the distraction working twice. He

I'd like to think we're all a bit like Hugo, we won't turn our backs on a crying child. Thomas was 100% right, Hugo knew exactly what he needed to do... AND bonus for Thomas, more Hugo reading to him.

I grew up with an imaginary friend, in many ways he was the constant guide I never had anywhere else. Still occasionally have a chat with him when I am feeling a particular need. You are absolutely right on how it helps with survival in a crisis.

Weaponized Imaginary Friends... random, half-baked idea I woke up with in the middle of the night and had to write. Too good not to.

District of Columbia – 1942 - 8 years old Billy looked at the man in the mirror, his tears slowing to a quiet sniffle. He was a boy who had been told countless times not to talk to strangers, but this man wasn't a stranger. He was a face in the glass, a kindly presence in a world that had suddenly become harsh and unyielding. Billy looked around the room again, at the polished wood floor, the small rug, the

But I don't wannna No, seriously, I wrote the chapter today, it goes live tomorrow. And I get the job done. Also wanted a light hearted chapter after all the doom and gloom

Wil's latest music project, Wil on the left