#sutherlands crossing

[this-is-lit]

Sutherland’s Crossing

by Gwen Kelly

What began as a missing person’s case now has Detective Beau Crenshaw heading in a different direction when a body turns up at a swamp. The pattern of death is eerily similar to an unsolved murder from years earlier. Beau goes on the hunt for a killer. He can’t mess up this time. He’s given a second chance to get a madman off the streets. What follows is a dark web of intrigue and deception that will push Detective Beau Crenshaw to his limits.

Sutherland’s Crossing by Gwen Kelly is the story of Beau Crenshaw, a police detective in a small town in the 90s, who is determined to solve the murder of a local woman whose high-society family must be backmanaged, while also trying to keep his marriage from falling apart.

Kelly’s novel, while set in 1995, does a good job of capturing the spirit of a hard-boiled 40s noir while managing to contemporize it. The story is a boilerplate crime novel that lovers of the genre will feel comfortable with, and it successfully walks the line between a twist no one could see coming and one that’s obvious from the first. (While there are graphic descriptions of murder, death, and dying, they seem more suited for the horror genre, coming off as a bit melodramatic in this narrative.) Beau’s a former gambling addict with a tragic backstory and a missus who just wants him to be present and is trying to prove he has earned his place as lead detective. The story jumps between Beau’s tumultuous marriage counseling sessions with wife Kathleen and his investigative endeavors on his case. However, the sessions don’t add much to the story, and any info the readers learn could have easily been woven into the narrative elsewhere (readers will have to decide for themselves if we only see Kathleen through Beau’s eyes, or if Kelly had trouble giving this frustrated and traumatized housewife depth past what she could do for the plot). The police work is the meat of the story, and any reader who enjoys procedurals will eat up Beau’s attempts to connect all the dots—even when he has to erase some and rethink what he thought he knew. Despite Kelly writing in 3rd person, the tale mainly follows Beau, which makes some of the POV shifts to other characters feel a little out of place and inconsistent. Still, most of the main characters maintain their unique voices, which makes the world of the novel robust and convincing.

Lovers of detective novels will find this an easy and enjoyable read, and even if they find the perp fairly obvious, the twists and turns will still make the journey satisfying. Readers who are looking for spice or a more complicated whodunnit may not find the tale gratifying.

I received an ACR from Reedsy Discovery.

[ewinofthelake]

You acted in many international productions and met many great actors. Which colleague impressed you the most when you worked with them?

Working on "Crossing Lines" with Donald Sutherland was certainly a special experience. The man was already a legend when I was born. And during the three seasons of filming, it was always a gift to be able to play with him. You often see that the very successful colleagues in particular are very approachable and unpretentious. And as soon as the camera is rolling, everyone tries to do their best.

What else fascinated you about him?

He once said something that I find very remarkable: "As an actor, it's always about finding the truth in every scene." So it's not about playing solos as virtuosically and egotistically as possible, but about always putting yourself at the service of the story. That sounds logical at first, but is often not self-evident.

[Tom Wlaschiha on Donald Sutherland, Playboy Germany 'How To Be A Man', 2023]

[nellarw95]

Happy Heavenly Birthday Donald 🎂💔

Donald McNichol Sutherland 🤍

July 17,1935 - June 20,2024🙏🏻

We Miss You So Much 🕊️♾️

Buon Compleanno in Paradiso 🎂💔

17 Luglio 1935 - 20 Giugno 2024🙏🏻

Ci Manchi Moltissimo 🕊️♾️

[issacharmastersdp18]

The world is hell.

If you need me, I’ll be receding into a world made up of only Donald Sutherland.

[littlequeenies]

Jane Asher (as Jane Clerkenwell) and Donald Sutherland (as Michel Dorn) in the "Crossing Lines" TV Series, Season 3, Episode 4 "Recoil", aired on October 16, 2015.

An Italian judge known for taking a hard line against the Five Families is shot and killed while on his regular (exercise) run outside his ocean view home.

Jane recalls: "Recently I’ve been filming in Croatia and Prague in a US crime series called Crossing Lines, playing a powerful woman very high up in MI6. My scenes were all with Donald Sutherland, who is as charming and clever as he appears on screen".

Via IMDB.

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

undefined

Crossing Lines (S02E08): The team celebrates Tommy’s birthday.

[bkwormkate]

The Brokenwood Mysteries

S09E06 - “Motorcycle Mamas”

Last episode of series 9 🇳🇿🔍

[blogthefiresidechats]

Latest from Amazon!

I made a purchase from Amazon recently so I’ve got some new books that’ll be showing up on my door step some time this week. I went on Amazon as soon as I found out that the first two books are available. I was surprised when I found out I had enough points to get them and I still had enough points left over so I added the other two books to my list.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics that take place in the Victorian era as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please let the writers know through kudos and comments! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

~ Louis/Harry ~

🌿 A Taste of Desire by @casuallyhl

(E, 104k, omegaverse) Harry is the owner of the most successful cotton mill in Manchester, and Louis is an opinionated social activist about to disrupt Harry’s world.

🌿 Victorian Boy by @audreyhheart

(E, 101k, murder mystery) Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. 

🌿 The Rose of Whitechapel by @itsmotivatingcara

(E, 100k, murder mystery) Jack the Ripper au - Detective Constable Harry Styles and his partner, DC Liam Payne, lead the case on the Whitechapel murders. Louis Tomlinson, the Rose of Whitechapel, is harbouring secrets of his own, along with a dark and sordid past. 

🌿 And down the long and silent street by whimsicule

(M, 86k, hurt/comfort) Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

🌿 Coax the Cold by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics

(M, 86k, mermaid) When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. 

🌿 Secrets in Winter by @softfonds

(E, 82k, omegaverse) If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

🌿 An Ever Fixed Mark (series) by My_words_fly_up

(E, 66k, sex work) Harry Styles lives quite scandalously in the slums of London and never expected to cross paths with a kind, well-bred gentleman like Louis Tomlinson. But once they meet neither will be the same again.

🌿 these still waters run deep by @levelofcharm

(E, 64k, aristocracy) Having accepted his engagement to Viscount Andrew, Louis is aware that it isn’t a love match and has no wish to be swept off his feet… until he meets the viscount’s brother, Harry, who makes him second-guess everything.

🌿 an everlasting eclipse by you_explode / @nobodymoves

(M, 63k, adaptation) Anne of Green Gables/Anne With An E AU. In 1891, orphan Harry is adopted by the Teasdales and goes to live on their small farm in Holmes Chapel. In his new life he finds supportive relationships, he finds himself, and eventually, he finds a home.

🌿 saw some things on the other side by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 61k, mystery) Louis’ plan doesn’t take into account the fact that instead of writing murder mysteries, he will find himself in one.

🌿 Forever Never Comes by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow

(M, 25k, friends to lovers) Victorian au, where Harry Styles, the youngest son of the Duke of Sutherland, was always a little in love with his childhood friend Louis Tomlinson, the young Earl of Doncaster, though he would never have told him in a million years. 

🌿 The Four Seasons After You by neptune rising / @thelesserneptune

(E, 14k, adaptation) Corpse Bride inspired story where, after months of grief and guilt eating away at Harry’s soul, he finds forgiveness and tentative happiness in an advantageous marriage; only, Louis hasn’t quite caught up yet and isn’t ready to let him go so easily, not till death do them part - if that.

🌿 Even Supposing - by @casuallyhl

(M, 14k, established relationship) a Dickensian London AU where Harry and Louis overcome illness, small budgets, and their own stubbornness to give each other an unforgettable first Christmas together.

🌿 You Light Up the Path by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(T, 12k, mermaids) Harry, or so he likes to be called, is the myth and legend himself known as the Staithes Mermaid. No one has laid eyes on him, but everyone loves to tell tall tales.

🌿 lead me out on the moonlit floor by @scrunchyharry

(E, 12k, Christmas) Victorian!AU where Louis is a wealthy lord throwing a masquerade ball for his birthday and Harry is a toymaker who's only confident when he's wearing a mask.

🌿 We Never Said Our Love Was Evergreen by Pumpkinspice_Lou

(E, 9k, kidnapping) A Victorian Masquerade Ball AU where Harry is basically the Phantom of the Opera

🌿 You're Already Home by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 5k, historical fantasy) It's Christmas Eve and Harry's life is normal. Then he finds someone's barred the door to his favourite hiding spot -- the old groundskeeper's cottage -- and suddenly Harry's life isn't normal anymore.

🌿 Unto You by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 3k, winter) Louis is a lamplighter celebrating the saturnalia season in his own way. Harry is heavily pregnant and new in the city. The holiday of Christmas is yet to be created.

🌿 a rose by any other name by delsicle / @eeveedel

(G, 3k, omegaverse) Harry is a sheltered omega who is the pinnacle of good breeding, but the flowers in his family’s garden – and the alpha gardener who keeps them – prove to be his greatest weakness.

🌿 Rapture by @allwaswell16

(E, 3k, vampires) It was New Year's Eve in Victorian London, and a lonely vampire could no longer resist the stunning lamplighter he watched night after night.

🌿 Too Great a Temptation by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 2k, girl direction) Harry and Louis attend a fancy dress ball.

~ Rare Pairs ~

🌿 for years or for hours by narryblossom

(G, 8k, Niall/Harry) a Corpse Bride AU in which Harry wants to marry for love, and does, after The End.

[scotianostra]

On August 8th 1984 the Kylesku Bridge officially opened to traffic.

The Kyslesku Bridge in Sutherland on the north-west of Scotland carries the non-trunk A894 across Loch a' Chàirn Bhàin between Unapool and Kylestrome.

The bridge was designed for what was then Highland Regional Council by Ove Arup and Partners. It was, in part, financed by the European Community, and built by Morrison Construction Ltd. The cost was £4 million, rather more than the budgeted £2¾ million, in part due to difficult weather conditions during construction.

The structure replaced a succession of ferries which had crossed between Kyslesk and Kylestrome since the early 19th century. When this ferry was not running, the only alternative was a 100 mile (160 km) detour around the NW Highlands.

Over the years, various ferries came and went, and small car-carrying ferries first appeared between the wars. The Kylesku Ferry was unusual in being free for much of its life. The Maid of Kylesku, a two car ferry, was built for the Kylesku crossing in the early 1950s, where it was operated until replaced by the Queen of Kylesku in 1967.

Check out the video below for a clip of the Queen of Kylesku, and can you imagine bairns being allowed to help like that nowadays!

The Bridge is one of those seminal points of the NC500 and lovers of road trips will appreciate the impressive way of affording us such magnificent views and access. There is a large car park on the North side where you can stop and take in the views.

Pics are of the bridge, of course and two of the ferries that used to sail betwen the points.

[literatecowboy]

The Rattlesnake County War

Following a botched cattle rustling job, a lone surviving outlaw finds herself thrust into a conflict between ranchers bigger than any she'd been embroiled in before. A Sheriff!Price x Outlaw!Reader fic; MDNI please; reader is AFAB and she/her pronouns are used but should otherwise be ambiguous (if I can be more inclusive/there is somewhere where I can improve on making her more "friendly" to readers let me know pls!) Warnings: hanging, angst, death, stabbings, references to guns and shootings, execution, etc. Eventual smut. I intend to write 2 versions of this fic - more information can be found in the masterlist

3. Coming Home to You

You woke late the next morning. The sun fell in from the window and draped itself across you, warming your body just past the point of discomfort. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. The clock read half past nine. 

Dressing yourself, you pulled your boots on and tromped downstairs. You found Gaz in the jail, working at one of the desks. Price was nowhere to be found. 

“Morning. I’ve got something for you,” Gaz said, rising from his chair and fishing for a key in his desk. He crossed the room and you followed, watching as he unlocked one of the several gun cabinets in the room.

“Sheriff Price asked me to return the rest of your things to you. He went to serve a warrant and didn’t want to wake you,” Gaz said. Your face lit up and you smiled as you fastened your gun belt around your hips and reloaded your sidearms. 

“Thanks, Gaz. A warrant on who?” you asked, tucking your guns into their holsters and taking stock of your ammo. 

“One Mr. Gimley. The last alive of the men who attacked Mr. Marshall yesterday,” Gaz said. You stiffened.

“He went alone?” you asked. Gaz nodded. 

“He’ll be fine. Neither Mr. Cavendish or Mr. Sutherland would dare kill a lawman,” he said, locking the gun cabinet and sitting back down. 

“Doesn’t feel right,” you said, shaking your head and peering out the window. “How long ago did he leave?” you asked. 

“Not long, but you shouldn’t go after him. He requested we stay here and await any news,” Gaz said, folding his arms over his chest. 

“I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not his subordinate,” you muttered, pushing out the door and heading to the barn. Gaz called out behind you, but you were gone too quickly. 

It felt good to ride Whiskey over the untamed west again. You followed the fresh hoofprints in the mud around back of Rattlesnake Point until they disappeared into the Colorado. On the other side you picked them up again and followed the track across wide grazing land until a stately house appeared in the distance. 

—

Sheriff John Price had scarcely passed the front gates of Sutherland Manor when he was stopped by a group of armed guards.

“This is private property, sir,” their leader sneered, staring up at Price where he sat on his liver chestnut quarter horse, Judge. 

“I do not mean to disturb you gentlemen, and I surely will be out of your hair in a moment, if you would allow me to speak to Mr. Sutherland about a warrant I possess for one of his employees?” Sheriff Price asked. The guard was about to respond, but the doors of the big house swung open then and a well-dressed man stepped into the sun. 

“Sheriff Price! To what do I owe the pleasure? Gentlemen, this man is of no danger or consequence to this place. Why do you treat him so?” Mr. Sutherland asked, chuckling. Price stepped down from his horse and approached the man, who gestured for him to sit on one of the chairs on the porch. They sat together, and a servant brought drinks, which Sheriff Price declined politely. 

“‘Tis good to see another Englishmen out in this wild country. I have brought with me as much refinement as I can, but such things are lost on these simple people,” Mr. Sutherland said, pouring milk into his tea and stirring it. “Now! To business. What have you come to my ranch for? The ride is surely far, and you would not have come unless a serious matter was afoot?”

“Serious it is, I’m afraid. Three men who I believe to be in your employ attacked me and another man yesterday, and though two are now deceased, I cannot let the matter rest. I bring a warrant for the arrest of the third attacker,” Price said. 

“What a dreadful affair! I can assure you, sir, that I do not employ men who would behave so savagely. Perhaps Mr. Marshall was attacked by his own men - disgruntled by their wages, perhaps?” Mr. Sutherland suggested. 

“It is curious that you know the man attacked to be Mr. Marshall, sir,” Price said, doing his best to hide his suspicion. “I would never accuse a man of your standing as being a liar, but might I perhaps interview your guards to see if they know of such a man?”

“I do not feel that to be necessary,” Mr. Sutherland said, setting his tea on the tray and rising. “And I do have a cattle deal to attend to, so I am afraid I must ask you to leave, sir.”

The guards which had dispersed before shifted, seeming to come alive at Mr. Sutherland’s words. They made their way toward Sheriff Price as he stood on the porch, blocking his way to his horse. 

The sound of a lone rider galloping down the road and toward the property made several of them turn. Mr. Sutherland watched from the entryway to his manor as you appeared on horseback, charging through the gates to the property. 

“Sheriff Price!” you called, refusing to dismount. The guards parted and let Price through, and he met you before the fountain in the drive. 

“It’s good to see you,” he muttered, taking the reins of his horse before mounting up. You glared down Mr. Sutherland’s guards as Price rode up to you by the fountain. 

“Let’s go,” he said, turning and leading the way off of the grounds of Sutherland manor. You followed. 

—

Once the house was but a speck in the distance, you slowed your horse and turned to look at the Sheriff. 

“That was stupid of you,” you said, riding side by side with him toward town. 

“Mr. Sutherland wouldn’t have allowed me to be harmed. My intention was to make a peaceful arrest of the fugitive Gimley to see how he would react. His denial means he’s committed obstruction of justice, which legitimizes our cause,” Price said. 

“Still shouldn’t have gone alone,” you said, shaking your head and casting a glance back down the long driveway as your horses crossed the river. 

“Who else would you propose I take?” he asked incredulously. “MacTavish and Riley are no lawmen, and leaving the town unguarded by taking Deputy Garrick with me could have been disastrous.”

“I know you still don’t trust me. You hate what I am. But we’re in the thick of it together, Sheriff, so I advise you put my skills to good use,” you said. 

It was quiet for a while. You and Price left the river behind as you rode closer to town. All seemed quiet outside of the saloon despite the skirmish the day before. Mr. Riley came storming out of the saloon doors, a myriad of Gaelic curses following him as he untied his horse’s reins. 

“Mr. Riley! Is there trouble?” Sheriff Price called out. Mr. Riley mounted his massive shire and fell into step with you and Price. 

“Only in paradise,” he grumbled, fixing his mask. It had been pushed up slightly and he yanked it back down, glowering at the road as you ride. Sheriff Price softened. 

“Is Johnny okay?” he asked. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Simon said, waving him off and patting his horse’s neck. It was pure black except for its bald face and white stockings, and you marveled at its size. 

“Where’d you get that horse?” you asked, marveling at its size. 

“Found ‘im as a colt, fed him from a bottle like a wee babe,” Simon said, visibly relieved by the shift in subject. “Ghost’s a good boy. Don’t let his size fool ya, love.”

“Your horse gave Gaz a good bit of trouble the other day. A mustang, correct?” Price asked. You nodded. 

“Whiskey’s a mean old girl, but I would never replace her. Bought her off a rancher who couldn’t break her and didn’t know what to do. She once bit off the ear of a man who was giving me trouble,” you said proudly. 

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Price muttered. 

—

Your group split when you neared the Sheriff’s house. Price and Simon went together into Simon’s home, which was attached to his workshop and across the wide street from the Sheriff’s house. You rode around the side of the house to the barn, dismounting Whiskey and calling out a greeting to Gaz as you brought her into a stall. 

“How’d it go? Where’s Price?” he asked, looking up from where he was grooming his horse. 

“Went to Simon’s for a bit. Didn’t make any arrests. It seems that Mr. Sutherland is resistant to all cooperation,” you said, patting Whiskey as she lowered her head to munch on some hay. 

“Pretty horse,” you said, leaning against the fence as you exited Whiskey’s stall.

“Thanks! This is Athena,” he said, carefully running his comb through the mare’s mane. She was a beautiful palomino pinto with white patches and big blue eyes. You watched him work for a while before standing. 

“Got chores?” you asked. 

“A handful. Can’t escape them I’m afraid,” he said with a sigh. You picked up a pitchfork from where it leaned up against the wall. 

“Where should I start?”

—

Price was startled to find you lugging a bale of hay from the shed to the stable when he came around the side of the house leading his horse a few hours later. Gaz straightened up from pouring a bucket of water into a trough and waved him over as you finished laying down new bedding for each of the horses. 

“Good to finally see you, you old chore-dodger!” he called out with a grin, making you laugh. 

“I’m more impressed at how much you’ve already gotten done,” Price said, looking around. Shit had been shoveled, chickens had been fed, the horses had been watered and gotten their lunch, and a myriad of other chores had been done around the yard. 

“Wasn’t all me, cap. Wildcat’s a hell of a hand,” Kyle said, carrying his bucket back to the water tap and leaving it in its place. “I’m off to get lunch.”

“Turns out outlaws can do honest work,” you said with a laugh, taking some sugar cubes from your pocket and feeding them to Judge. The edges of Price’s eyes creased as he smiled. He put Judge away and joined you as you sat on a bale of hay, looking out at the river. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to help with chores. Didn’t expect you to come after me this morning, either.” 

“You’re a good man, sheriff. Your cause is just. I…I don’t want anything to happen to you,” you admitted. You gazed into Price’s eyes, silence settling comfortably around you as you sat together in the shade. 

He gazed back, smiling at you, his cheeks lightly flushed. He seemed to think something over for a moment before sighing and standing. 

“Go get some rest, Wildcat.”

—

Later that evening, there was a knock on the door to the guest room you occupied in Price and Gaz’s house. You rose from the chair where you’d been dozing and answered the door, smiling at Gaz when you saw him. 

“All those chores we did earlier made me thirsty. What do you say to a drink down at MacTavish’s?” he asked, grinning at you. 

“You, sir, are a genius,” you said, grabbing your hat from the desk and putting it on as you followed Gaz downstairs, passing Price on the way out. 

“Coming?” he asked, pausing with his hand on the door handle. Price shook his head. 

“Go, take a load off. I’ve got business here,” he said, waving his hand.

You and Gaz mounted up and trotted down the road. The night air was warm and draped around your shoulders like a thick blanket, and you took a deep, contented breath. The saloon was close enough, and you hitched your horses beside each other before heading in and taking your places at the bar. 

“How did you come to be Price’s deputy?” you asked, rolling your beer bottle between your fingers idly as you gazed out the window. 

“Was adopted by him when I was young. I was born here, but lost my ma and pa to smallpox during an outbreak. He took me in and the rest is history,” Gaz said. 

“Seems like a good man to me, maybe a little misguided,” you said with a shrug, lifting the rim of the bottle to your lips and taking a swig. Gaz shrugged. 

“I’d face down the devil at his side,” he said. 

The night passed quickly as you got to know Gaz a little better. Past midnight, the saloon was mostly empty. You were rising to leave when familiar Scottish shouting erupted from a room on the upper floor. You and Gaz were on your feet in an instant, charging up the stairs and down the long hallway they lead to. 

“-and if ye think I’m not capable-!” Johnny’s voice echoed through the door of the room on the left. Gaz hammered on the door with his fist, reaching for the handle with his free hand. 

“MacTavish, you alright? We’re coming in!” he called, twisting the knob and throwing the door open. You and Gaz stumbled into the room and froze. 

Johnny stood at the foot of the bed in his underwear, gesturing angrily at Simon, who was sat up in the bed shirtless, his lower half covered by the blanket. He reached for his mask and yanked it over his nose and mouth, shoving his hat on and pulling it low over his eyes. You averted your gaze and Gaz quickly shut the door behind him. 

“Can your lover’s spat be any louder?” he hissed, glaring at Johnny as he glared at Simon. You looked between Johnny and Simon, bewildered. Johnny rounded on Gaz next. 

“And ye! Do ye think I’m incapable of fighting my own battles too?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. You blinked, and your eyes darted between Simon, Johnny, and now Gaz once more. 

“What the fuck are you talking about, MacTavish? And put some damn pants on,” Gaz grumbled, rolling his eyes and folding his arms over his chest. 

“Simon says I can’t help you and Price anymore. Says its too ‘dangerous’ for me, whatever the fuck that means. This thing with Marshall concerns me just as much as it concerns the rest of ye, thanks,” Johnny growled, snatching his trousers up off the floor. 

“Nobody said that. What do you mean, Simon?” Gaz asked, exasperated. Simon glared down at the blanket, the tips of his ears red. You grabbed Gaz by the elbow and tugged him toward the door. 

“Come on, deputy. We’ve outstayed our welcome,” you said with a grimace, doing your best to avoid further eye contact with any of the men’s bodies. You pulled open the door and shoved Gaz out before he could protest before slipping out behind him and closing it. 

The shouting didn’t resume as you walked down the stairs and exited the empty saloon in silence. As you mounted your horse and waited on Gaz to do the same, you spoke. 

“They’re fucking?” you asked, doing your best to forget what you’d seen minutes ago as you rubbed your eyes. 

“That’s a simple way of putting it,” Gaz said. 

—

Back up in the room on the second floor of the saloon, Simon took Johnny’s hands and squeezed them gently, guiding his lover to sit back down on the bed. 

“Didn’t mean to say you couldn’t fight your own battles,” he said, pulling his mask back off and tossing it to the floor. Johnny gently lifted his hat off and set it aside. 

“Si, I’m not going tae give up. This is the best chance we’ve had in a long time,” Johnny said. 

“I wasn’t trying to ask you to. I’m sorry, Johnny,” Simon said. He lay back on the bed, pulling Johnny into his arms to lay with him.

“You’re what makes me life worth living, Johnny. I don’t want you to…” Simon trailed off. Johnny ignored the crack in his boyfriend’s voice and rested his head onto his chest, tracing soothing lines onto his forearms. 

“Won’t get hurt, Si. Not a scratch. Nothing would dare stop me from coming home to you.”

---

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Got tagged by @chaotic-neutral-knitter to share my favorite fics I've written and I feel a little bad not putting any of my 3 OFMD fics on the list. But in my defense it was very hard to choose between my 116 slutty slutty children, and while I like my OFMD fics a lot (especially Learning and Remembering) I decided to limit myself to five fics across all the fandoms I have written for over the past nine (!!) years, and there are some that stand above the rest.

Maybe I'll Show You the Way (Dune, Paul/Chani). Maybe my recency bias is showing but I really think this is one of the best things I've written. Paul and Chani's whole "falling in love while fighting side by side in an anti-colonial armed resistance movement" romance in Dune Part Two felt like it was designed in a lab to appeal to me specifically, and I just wanted more of it! What started with a simple "5 times they fucked in between fighting the Harkonnens" premise has become a novella-length character study about war, politics, solidarity and resistance to oppression in all its forms, interlaced with a very sweet, youthful first-love romance that always has a bittersweet edge because we the audience know these characters are living in a tragedy. This fic is one chapter from completion and I've been stalling because I really wanna stick the landing on this one, but it will get finished!

a narrow door, swiftly closing (Dune, Paul/Duncan) Different ship, different era (post-Dune Part One) and a very different vibe. The fun of this ship is the multiple power imbalances running in different directions (younger/older, student/teacher, lord/vassal, end product of a 90-generation eugenics program with a mind that can bridge time and space/Just Some Guy). It's also got that chewy age gap thing where the older character has watched the younger character grow from a child to an adult and has to wrestle with the realization that they find them sexually attractive now. Peak forbidden romance and mutual pining in this one and not just one but two of my favorite finally-crossing-the-line kisses I have ever written.

Three Times Is a Habit (Trust, Primo/The Other Paul) Ah yes, my "which doomed curly-haired teenage twink heir to a powerful dynasty named Paul are we talking about?" era. For a hot second (most of 2021) I was really into this hidden gem FX limited series Trust, based (with many creative liberties taken) on the real kidnapping of John Paul Getty III in Italy in the 1970s. The fun of this fandom is that every ship is an absolute garbage fire of bad decisions, and writing the trainwreck emotional logic that leads to a traumatized teenager repeatedly hooking up with his kidnapper was an adventure. There's also a fun meta layer at play in the relationship between our reality, the fictionalized "true" version of the kidnapping that happens in the show, the lies the characters tell about the fictionalized version of the kidnapping in the show, and the version of the characters I'm writing, some of whom are based on real people and some of whom are made up. (Is this RPF? You decide.) This fic will make zero sense if you haven't watched the show. But you should! It's a wild ride with a great cast (Donald Sutherland presente!)

Salvage & Scrap (Mad Max: Fury Road, Gen) Two minor characters who have a combined total of maybe five minutes of screen time produced what was until recently my longest fic on AO3. This fic was based on a fantastic prompt: what if Ace (the older war boy who seems to be Furiosa's second in command on the War Rig) and Valkyrie (Furiosa's Green Place gal pal) both survived their violent vehicular encounters and met each other? The idea was immediately appealing to me because they both care about Furiosa but have known such different versions of her, and the way their worldviews would clash seemed like great story fodder. I still love the imagery of them meeting at the place where their worlds have literally collided--the wreck of the War Rig in the Rock Riders' canyon. Also I recently reread this and I forgot how devastating the tiny glimpse we get of Furiosa is in this fic.

Fightplay (Mad Max: Fury Road, Max/Furiosa) You know this list wouldn't be complete without a smutty Maxiosa fic. It was really hard to pick one piece of the 127k smut novel I wrote about them in non-chronological order over the course of about 3 years (2015-2018). But Fightplay was definitely the start of writing uhhh a certain kind of dynamic for them. The prose is very spare and exacting in a way that I still find hot 9 years later.

Tagging @thebyrchentwigges, @thetardigrape, @nandamai, @bethagain, @demolitionwoman-blog and anyone else who wants to do this!

[sutherkins]

what dating peter sutherland is like ! 💌

part one because i have a lot of thoughts about what dating him would he like

• loves calling you cute pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart, princess, angel, baby are his top 5)

• he has insomnia and has a hard time falling asleep

• he accidentally stays up all night sometimes to make sure you’re okay if you have a scary encounter that day

• hes so protective of you, he asks you if you need him to beat someone up, you think hes just joking but he’s being completely serious

• he likes to lay on your lap while you play with his hair, it relaxes him so much that sometimes he falls asleep

• very handsy but like, in a respectful way

• he knows your boundaries whether you’re in public or at home and wont cross them

• you first met when you moved in next to him and eventually you’re at his place so often that he just asks you to move in

• he loves holding your hand, it grounds him

• when you moved in you practically forced him to let you keep your giant clawfoot bathtub and he finds that he likes it too because that means theres room for both of you and if you think peter likes cuddles he loves wet, naked ones

• speaking of wet and naked

• he’s really good at eating pussy. dont ask me how i know, i just do

• he’s super attentive and rly takes his time getting to know your body and the certain things that make you tick

• he loves when you’re on top

• you both have a praise kink which works out because you both love praising eachother

• he can get kinky but he really isnt into anything too crazy

• i know we all want this man to top us but lets be real if he had to choose he’d be on the bottom because he loves looking at you and he thinks its hot having you on top and being controlling

• if im being like, completely honest and faithful to the character, id say his kinks are as follows

• praise kink, light bondage, i think he’d be open to being blindfolded and doing the same to you, is lingerie kink a thing?

• any kink that could hurt you is pretty much off limits

• he tries some light breath play on you when you ask him and he finds that he actually doesnt mind it as long as its nothing crazy

• if hes not being submissive hes being a very very gentle dom. as much as i’d for him to dominate the hell out of me its just not the way his brain is wired

• most of the time you’re both on a level playing field though

• he likes slow, sensual, hard and soul crushing sex

• he can go fast if you want him to but he likes to savor the moment and drag the pleasure out for as long as he can

• and even though he isnt a rough guy in bed, he still takes the best care of you afterwards

• he cleans you up, brings you water or juice — maybe a snack too

• makes you drink and eat before reminding you to go to the bathroom

• while you’re in there he gets ur pjs and anything else u need ready (medications and whatnot) and helps you into them before laying back on the bed for you to curl up in his arms

• he kisses your head softly and murmurs “love you, pretty girl” before you settle into sleep

[issacharmastersdp18]

If such a big bad,

Why then so friend shaped?

I mean, look at him.

How can you not love this man?

[yourfavoritebookclub]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 6

Imogen and I walk along the Iakobos River, our steps near silent as we snake our way through the reedy grass to the cluster of large oaks at the bank.

We stop at the roots of one of the larger trees and Imogen pulls off her hood to give me a long look.

She leans in towards me, voice quiet. “Can you please stop giving me the silent treatment?”

When I don't respond, she turns her head to look me in the eyes, “Xaden, seriously. You weren’t there, she was talking about my parents being murdered. Am I supposed to just let trash like her get away with that? It’s dis—” I lift my hand to silence her. “Don’t finish that sentence, Imogen.” I ground out, my anger rising at the insult.

Hurt and confusion flash across her face and I feel a twinge of guilt. She doesn’t know that with every look, every confrontation, every day that goes by where Violet is in my presence, my self control slips a little more.

“The rest are close.” Sgaeyl says from her position in the sky. 

My eyes lift, “We can discuss this in front of everyone. It’s a message for all of you.”

The two of us turn towards the line of trees as the rest of the group converge beneath the giant oak.

My shadows are comfortable here, they feel cool against my skin. As they unravel, my senses extend along every tendril. I can hear every small nocturne creature and subtle wind.

I can also hear the soft, quick breathing above me. What Violet Sorrengail is doing out here, is a question I’d love to know the answer to. But it can wait. This moment feels like another opportunity to push her and see which way she falls.

There are small introductions between everyone, most of them are known, but some of the first-years are from smaller families who haven’t been properly acquainted with everyone.

There’s a palpable anxiety coursing through the younger cadets. I get it, but it’s time to push it to the side, step up, and do their jobs. We protect each other. Panic isn't an option. 

Garrick is angsty about the losses this week. We all are. Our numbers are small enough as is. 

Garrick addresses the group, his eyes hard, “We’ve already lost Sutherland and Luperco, that’s just how it is your first year, but we can’t afford to lose a single one of us. Division amongst ourselves will be your greatest weakness.”

There’s soft rustling in the branches above as Violet moves from branch to branch.

Imogen turns to the first years, “Like it or not, we’re going to have to stick together if you want to survive until graduation.”

“And if they find out we’re meeting?” One of the younger girls, Gwyn, asks the group.

The fear is clear on all of their faces. They’ve all been scared for too long. But that’s what we’re here to change.

I need to inspire courage, but also remind them that we’re confident in the system we’ve created.

And remind them who they’ll be answering to if things get out of hand.

I cross my arms and lean against the tree, keenly aware of Violet, now directly above me.

“We’ve done this for two years and they’ve never found out.” My eyes scan the group, “they’re not going to unless one of you tells. And if you tell,” I say, raising a brow, “I’ll know. Like Garrick said, we’ve already lost two first-years to their own negligence. There are only forty-one of us in the Riders Quadrant, and we don’t want to lose any of you, but we will if you don’t help yourselves. The odds are always stacked against us, and trust me, every other Navarrian in the quadrant will look for reasons to call you a traitor or force you to fail.”

There’s no use in feeding them bullshit if their lives are on the line.

“How many of you are getting your asses handed to you in hand-to-hand?”

Four first-years raise their hands.

Four.

“Shit.” I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. This is not good. After the bargain was made a few of us older kids made sure there were systems in place. Training regimens were created. Academic Curriculums, and tests that mimicked what they’ll face upon entering the quadrant. Tools to ensure every serpartist’s kid was well equipped before they put a single toe on the parapet.

The headache is back.

Garrick, always a step ahead, says, “I’ll teach them.”

After the amount of training, and natural skill he’s had, Garrick’s fighting is instinctual. Good for winning fights, not great for trying to teach someone.

I look at Garrick and shake my head, “You’re our best fighter–” 

I’m interrupted by Bodhi, “ You’re our best fighter.”

“Dirtiest fighter, maybe,” Imogen corrects him with a laugh.

There’s some laughter, and even a couple smiles from the younger ones.

“Fucking ruthless is more like it,” Garrick says, grinning at me.

I keep my mouth shut and let everyone get it out of their system before moving on.

“Garrick is our best fighter, but Imogen is right up there with him, and she’s a hell of a lot more patient,” If the two of them want to be mouthy then they can do it together. “So the four of you split yourselves up between the two of them for training. A group of three won’t draw any unwanted attention. What else is giving you trouble?” One of the first years, Kieran begins speaking before anyone else, his voice full of anguish,“I can’t do this.” My stomach lurches.

I can’t deal with this right now

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice going cold.

“I can’t do this! The death. The fighting. Any of it. A guy had his neck snapped right in front of me on assessment day!” The boy's voice is growing more frantic, and every word out of his mouth is filling me with guilt.

“I want to go home!” Kieran continues, “Can you help me with that ?”

Everyone turns to look at me.

I did this to them.

Bile rises to the back of my throat.

No, this was the only way I could save every person in front of me right now.

I didn’t have a choice.

And neither does he.

I swallow, frustration bubbling up to the surface.

We don’t have time to comfort and coddle. Our goal is to survive. Everything else is an afterthought.

“No,” I say, shrugging my shoulders, feigning indifference.“You’re not going to make it. Best accept it now and not take up more of my time.”

My words come out harsher than intended, but I mean them nonetheless 

The color drains from Kieran’s face, and his thin frame begins shaking as my words hit him.

Bodhi turns to look at me, incredulity written on his face. “That was a little harsh, cousin.”

“What do you want me to say, Bodhi? I can’t save everyone, especially not someone who isn’t willing to work to save themselves.” I keep my voice calm, even as the guilt tries to press itself in on me.

“Damn, Xaden.” Garrick says, that same disbelief lacing his voice. “Way to give a pep talk.”

Did none of them hear me after the parapet? We are not special. We will face blood and horror, and the likely possibility of death. Giving me problems that I can’t solve doesn’t help anyone, it holds us all back. This is just a fact of our reality. 

“If they need a fucking pep talk, then we both know they’re not flying out of the quadrant on graduation day. Let’s get real. I can hold their hands and make them a bunch of bullshit empty promises about everyone making it through if that helps them sleep, but in my experience, the truth is far more valuable.” I turn to look at Kieran, “In war, people die. It’s not glorious like the bards sing about, either. It’s snapped necks and two-hundred-foot falls. There’s nothing romantic about scorched earth or the scent of sulfur.” 

I point to the citadel off in the distance, “This isn’t some fable where everyone makes it out alive. It’s hard, cold, uncaring reality. Not everyone here is going to make it home…to whatever’s left of our homes. And make no mistake, we are at war every time we step foot in the quadrant.” I lean closer to him, and the other first-years in front of me. They need to drill this into their fucking skulls, “So if you won’t get your shit together and fight to live, then no. You’re not going to make it.”

I assess each of them, making sure they’ve heard me loud and clear.

Good. Time to move on.

“Now, someone give me a problem I can actually solve,” I say, this time addressing the whole group.

Aria, one of the first years, speaks up, “Battle Brief.” 

That, I can handle.

She continues, “It’s not that I can’t keep up, but the information…”

Imogen steps in to soften the obvious conflict in Aria’s voice. She leans in, voice gentle “That’s a tough one.”

Some of my irritation with her softens. Imogen’s fearless, and has a nasty temper, but she’s always been a buffer between me and everyone else.

And she’s right, It’s hard to know what we know, and still placate the professors.

I’d speak a bit more freely if I didn’t have a certain someone perched on the branch above me. I'm already sticking my neck out by letting her stay. 

“You learn what they teach you.” I say giving her a pointed look. “Keep what you know but recite whatever they tell you to.” There are several nods, and I feel satisfied that everyone understands what’s at stake if they fuck up.

“Anyone else?” I say, looking up at the moon. It’s shifted considerably since we got here, which means we’re cutting it close. “You’d better ask now. We don’t have all night.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence before someone in the back says, “When do we get to kill Violet Sorrengail?”

My whole body tenses, my heartrate climbing, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from snapping. In the span of a few seconds I’ve become completely possessed. Just a handful of days around her and I’m already losing my mind at the thought of anyone touching her. She’s mine . 

“Yeah, Xaden, When do we get to finally have our revenge?” Imogen says, her voice turning mockingly sweet. 

I am now acutely aware of every fast breath coming from Violet. 

I throw a threatening look at Imogen, “I told you already, the youngest Sorrengail is mine, and I’ll handle her when the time is right.” 

I don’t think I even know what that means right now. There are a lot of ways I’d like to handle– 

No.

That’s not even a thought worth entertaining.

Bodhi decides to be Bodhi and stir the pot, “Didn’t you already learn that lesson, Imogen? What I hear, Aetos has you scrubbing dinner dishes for the next month for using your powers on the mat.”

“Her mother is responsible for the execution of my mom and sister. I should have done more than just snap her shoulder.” Imogen argues, her cheeks flushing in anger.

“Her mom is responsible for the capture of nearly all our parents. Not her daughter.” Garrick looks Imogen in the eyes, “Punishing children for the sins of their parents is the Navarrian way, not Tyrrish.”

This is getting exhausting.

“So we get conscripted because of what our parents did years ago and shoved into this death sentence of a college–”

“In case you didn’t notice, she’s in this same death sentence of a college. Seems like she’s already suffering the same fate.” Garrick says, shutting down Imogen’s argument.

Apparently everyone here needs a reminder of who Violet is in all of this.

“Don’t forget her brother was Brennan Sorrengail. She has just as much reason to hate us as we do her.” I say to Imogen before turning to the first-year, “And I’m not going to tell you again. She’s mine to handle. Anyone feel like arguing?”

No one speaks.

The moon has shifted even closer to the horizon. Time to get these walking headaches out of here and deal with the one above me.“Good. Then get back to bed. And go in threes.”  

The group clears out and I walk towards the citadel, slowly cloaking myself in shadows until I’m invisible in the dark. I can’t help but smirk as I backtrack to the oak tree and slip behind where Violet is currently positioned.

She’s patient. It takes her a good ten minutes before she finally climbs down from her perch and drops to the ground. 

Still cloaked in shadows, I lunge, pulling her tight against my chest. Every place where our bodies connect is buzzing like a live wire, and I resist the impulse to drop her. 

It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and dammit if I don’t love every second.

“Scream and you die,” I whisper in her ear. I don’t want to let go of her, but I force myself to remove my arm from around her neck.

Before she can even think about retaliating, I’ve replaced my arm with the edge of a dagger. “Fucking Sorrengail.” I snap, pulling back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face.

Fuck. 

I can’t help the way my cheeks heat as she leans her head back to look me in the eyes.

I push my chest against her, forcing her eyes forward before she gets a chance to read the undeniable need on my face.

“How did you know?” She says, her lip curling. For someone who’s convinced I’m going to kill her, she has some bite. “Let me guess,” she continues, “You could smell my perfume. Isn’t that what always gives the heroine away in books?”

Perfume?  

I bend my head toward hers, my lips brushing against her ear.

She’s irritating as hell. And yet here I am, excited that I have her all to myself.

“I command shadows, but sure, it was your perfume that gave you away.” I say sarcastically, my voice barely above a whisper.

A thrill goes up my spine as she gasps. “Your signet is a shadow wielder?”

My lips are still at her ear , “What, Aetos hasn’t warned you not to get caught alone in the dark with me yet?”

My voice sounds rough, even to me, and I resist the urge to put my mouth on her, to bite her ear, kiss her neck. I’m in a fog, consumed by being near her.

My grip loosens a fraction as my concentration slips, and she spins towards me, dagger raised, “Is this how you plan to handle me?”

“Eavesdropping are we?” I ask, brow lifting. 

Seeing her like this, like she was before the parapet, angry and wild, is doing something to me, and I can’t get enough.

I sheath my dagger. “Now I might actually have to kill you.” The cold look in my eyes is in stark contrast to the way my mind is pleading with her.

Please, don’t say anything. 

Because for all my bravado, I don’t know if I have it in me to kill her. I’m worried about what it might do to me. 

It would wreck me.

She backs away, reaching into her cloak to pull out another dagger. 

Despite her uneven footing and awkward defensive stance, Violet with her daggers out, ready for a fight is…

Fuck, It’s hot.

“That stance is really the best you can muster? No wonder Imogen nearly ripped your arm off.” I say, heaving a sigh. I don’t have it in me to kill her but there are several people who do, and will succeed with her defensive position so…lacking.

“I’m more dangerous than I look,” she says, but her cheeks are flushed and her ears have turned pink at the tips, contradicting the anger in her voice.

She’s being cute, and I can’t help but smirk. I like playing with her, “So I see. I’m quaking in my boots.”

Quicker than I would’ve expected she flings both daggers towards me.

And completely misses.

I look at her dully, if not a little disappointed, “You missed.”

“Did I?” She says, reaching for the two other daggers she has tucked into her cloak, “Why don’t you back up a couple steps and test that theory?”

What?

I smooth my face into a mask of irritated boredom, but from the way she’s looking at me, I know she saw the question in my eyes.

My shadows swirl around her ankles, pulling to touch her. I yank them back, hard, smothering my own desire.

My eyes don’t leave Violet’s as I take three steps back until my back hits the tree.

Where the  hilt of each dagger sits perfectly between both sides of my head.

Oh.

Good girl, Violet.

“Tell me again that I missed.” She threatens, flipping the dagger in her hand to hold it by the tip.

I still can’t take my eyes off of her. 

I smile, “Fascinating, you look all frail and breakable, but you’re really a violent little thing, aren’t you?”

I will my shadows into something more concrete, forming them into hands, the slender fingers moving to pluck the daggers from the bark, and drop them into both of my palms.

I’m still smiling at her like a fool. I think I’m going into shock.

My body has completely abandoned my mind, and before I realize what I’m doing, I’m moving towards her, steps slow, “You should show that little trick to Jack Barlowe.”

Violet blinks in surprise, “What?”

She clocks how close we are to each other and raises her dagger.

I’ve done my job a little too well if she thinks my only motivation is to kill her. “The neck-snapping first year who’s very publicly vowed to slaughter you.” I tease, lifting an eyebrow. 

One more step and the tip of her blade is pressed against my middle. I’m still smirking as I reach under her cloak and sheath one of the daggers. 

I lift the other side of her cloak, and the smirk slips off of my face, every ounce of playful banter gone.

Underneath her cloak, her hair is twisted into a loose braid that falls over one shoulder and down past her breast. The silver strands, now exposed to the moonlight, glint as she shifts her head to look up at me.

I can barely breathe for wanting her so badly.

I want to wrap that braid around my wrist and yank her towards me.

For a single heartbeat I’m dumbstruck before I pull myself together and sheath her other dagger. “He’d probably think twice about plotting your murder if you threw a few daggers at his head.”

Violet’s face looks half irritated, half confused, “Because the honor of my murder belongs to you?” My words from earlier play through my head. Mine . “You wanted me dead long before your little club chose my tree to meet under, so I imagine you’ve all but buried me in your mind by now.”

I look at the dagger pressed between us. She looks closer to burying me than the other way around. 

A small shiver of fear courses through me. I’ve made a dangerous gamble in letting her hear all that was said tonight. “Do you plan on telling anyone about my little club ?” 

“No,” She says bluntly.

I can feel my eyebrows knit together. The answer I was hoping for, but not necessarily the one I was expecting. “Why not?” I ask. My head tilts to the side as I examine this girl in front of me, so different than I had assumed. “It’s illegal for the children of separatists officers to assemble in—”

“Groups larger than three,” Smart little thing.

She continues, “I’m well aware. I’ve lived at Basgiath longer than you.” Arrogant little thing too.

“And you’re not going to run off to Mommy, or your precious little Dain, and tell them we’ve been assembling? ” I can’t help the contempt that drips off my tongue at the thought of Dain. Of his hands on her face, searching through her memories.

“You were helping them. I don’t see why that should be punished.” 

I give her an assessing glare.

She looks thoughtful, her mind turned inward for a beat before her eyes refocus on mine, “I’m not going to tell.”

I can’t get my hopes up, but they’re soaring anyways.

Her defenses are slipping away, rotating back to a familiar look of fear.

I don’t want her to be scared of me.

She needs to be scared of me. She should want nothing to do with me. 

If I can just manage enough self restraint to put some distance between the two of us.

“Interesting. We’ll see if you keep your word, and if you do, then unfortunately, it looks like I owe you a favor.” I say, my thoughts of staying away are already completely abandoned.

I turn to go and she calls after me, “You’re not going to handle me?”

“Not tonight!” I yell over my shoulder, a smirk on my face.

She makes an indignant sound, “What are you waiting for?”

Gods I can’t help but play with her, “It’s no fun if you expect it. Now, get back to bed before your wingleader realizes you’re out after curfew.”

“What?” She almost shrieks, voice full of confusion.

 I start to pull my shadows around me, cloaking me from view, but not before I hear her shout, “ You’re my wingleader!”

Yes the hell I am. 

In the shadows my smirk has bloomed into a fierce grin.