#retired Pope Innocent

[spaceasianmillennial]

"Vincent, I can't help this desire."

"Vincent. I-I... I hoped that if I had waited so long enough for my bones to stiffen, for my flesh to crumple... I would be purified of all those thoughts I had of you and we would finally be proper friends... I was wrong. That flame I have for you is a part of me and it will remain a part of me when the Lord takes me in His arms."

"Oh Tomás."

"I can't snuff it. It burns brighter whenever I'm near you. Will you forgive me?"

"Tomás, there is nothing for me to forgive. I only- I only want to suggest... maybe it's time we sanctified this partnership."

“What do you mean?” Lawrence chided himself internally once again. He felt he should understand Vincent.

“Us. I mean, we should ask the Lord to sanctify us, together.”

[searchingforserendipity25]

thinking post conclave and someone (tedesco) trying to undermine innocent xiv's papacy (tedesco) and hitting his administration with a vast and exhausting number of accusations (as tedesco has done, and has bellini accused him of doing in such a way as to literally cause the old pope to die of stress).

now, whoever is doing that (tedesco) already has a very large folder of blackmail, accusation, drafts for anonymous sources to the press and little napkins scratched through with aldo bellini's name.

and a tiny drawn aldo bellini (a bald blob in a cassock with a cartoon bubble full of BLAH BLAH BLAH sono aldo e penso di essere così intelligente! BLAH above his head) being pieced by several arrows in an aggressive and vaguely st.sebastianesque fashion.

whatever. if it were tedesco doing it, he and bellini would be their own thing. some people wonder still why didn't the holy spirit's mysterious workings pick bellini, and what is he even doing these days, but that is irrelevant. that's old news to the opposition, they don't care about that.

they go after cardinal lawrence instead.

it is, unfortunately for the opposition, very hard to come after cardinal lawrence. mostly because cardinal lawrence is a very strange and very boring man who has the inconvenient habit of being largely decent.

he has loved and been loved by men and women, yes: in the most boring platonic way imaginable. you couldn't wring a sex scandal out of him if you tried.

he doesn't take bribes. he doesn't buy things, besides mystery books and sometimes tiny figurines of kitchy saints he gives cardinal bellini. if only they were sexy statues of saints! alas. that's a dead end. obviously whatever is going on between and bellini is weird as fuck, but again, probably not sex.

why does the leader of the malicious opposition know the decorations in cardinal bellini's private rooms? irrelevant.

lawrence did break the papal seal during the conclave! the thing with adeyemi could, kind of, be spun into blackmail or coercion to get him to step back as a candidate! he hid information on several cardinals taking bribes and indirectly influenced their votes!

unfortunately the only person who could reasonably punish him for any of it is pope innocent, who wouldn't, and it wouldn't even be hard to argue as the greatest living in the vatican at the time lawrence acted in accordance with his obligations.

and innocent clearly thinks lawrence is the sweetest most wonderful most capable funniest man in the vatican. and maybe on earth. presumably that's why he's raised him up to secretary of state, when the previous title holder was, anyone would admit, not wholly incompetent.

which is favoritism, obviously. besides being incorrect - aldo bellini may have retired from all current positions, but he was still a cardinal, and still, as far as tedesco's network of spies could tell, living in the apostolic palace.

even if he did not leave his apartments much - presumably, he was still there. lounging around in his slutty blue robe, probably. moping. reading spinoza and drinking too much red wine, the way he does when he's indulging in a spot of melancholia.

or maybe just working from home. who knows. who cares?

innocent's favoritism, however - he was not being very open at all to hearing the conservative wing of the vatican at all. even if can't prove it is sexual, partiality is a sin on a pope!

unfortunately spreading rumors about innocent's sinful and possibly-maybe sexual connection to his closest advisor doesn't get many people convinced. a subtle inquiry of the first round of whispers brings back unsatisfying results. general opinion in the vatican goes along the lines of:

'i don't think lawrence knows how to fuck'

'i don't think innocent knows how to fuck'

'isn't lawrence too old to fuck?'

'how would that even work, i mean, which name would he even use in bed, or is it all a your holiness kind of thing? is that kinky or just blasphemous? is it more blasphemous not to use his title?'

'do you think he ever, y'know, holds lawrence tenderly in his white vestments after an ardent round of confessional atonement?'

'no,' said the patriarch of venice to his monsignor minion. 'are you an idiot? we're not going with that. innocent is an old-man fucker who likes to cuddle after an ardent round of confessional sodomy, obviously, just look at him. but tommaso wouldn't get the vestments dirty. that's the secretary of state of the catholic church, have some fucking respect.'

his vape is held in a white-knuckled grip. people are so stupid about these things. it's like they've never met the man or had a weirdly charged not-friendship with him for thirty years, jesus.

well, whatever. goffredo tedesco has married plenty of couples and then bullied several of them out of the path of divorce.

he's set up his siblings and nephews and nieces with the least unobjectionable and most well-connected members of his congregation plenty of times, and if it never worked out that was because they were ungrateful idiots who got upset too easily and had ridiculous politics.

anyhow, at least benítez and lawrence were both men, he could hardly be accused of being misogynistic about this.

if he has to go to rome and match-make the pope and the secretary of state into a compromising situation, by God he'll do it. a truth everyone who isn't naive knows: if you can't find or invent a reasonable scandal, self-made is fine.

he passes the ugly tourist shop by the channel, the one with the vacuous-eyed st. sebastian in the window display. for no reason. irrelevant. it was better than whatever stupid gift lawrence might get bellini, anyway. might as well knock on his apartment's while he's in rome. maybe. not like tedesco cares.

his venetian idol is objectively superior to any ugly figurine of st. george slaying a dragon, by the way.

[ineffable-bisexual]

I can't wait for the husbands to finally have a life where they get to do "boring" every day human stuff. They retire to a cottage in the Downs and Crowley digs a whole garden by hand and fumbles through growing vegetables, learning that you can't yell at potatoes because they're just naturally stubborn and will smother their row neighbors with their roots no matter how much you threaten them.

They both learn how to cook but Crowley finds he's quite good at it (even if he uses a teensy miracle to make sure nothing burns again) and always wants to cook because we all know how he loves feeding his angel.

Aziraphale maybe working part time at the local library and taking his time shelving books and drinking tea so he doesn't have to get on those awful computers to use their digital catalog system. He also teaches the local students who visit about the Dewey Decimal Classification and starts a petition on the community board to put it back in place, in an actual card system as it should be. The only signatures on it are his and Crowley's (a reluctant participant but wants to support his husband's causes no matter how cringe).

Aziraphale dragging Crowley to one of those Paint and Sip parties where you paint the same thing and drink wine. Crowley only goes for the wine and, already being a talented painter, recreates a likeness of Francis Bacon's "Pope Innocent X" while everyone else paints a daisy in a vase.

Crowley stalling in taking out the garbage even though Aziraphale has been harping on him to do it all day, and he finally takes it out to the bin at one in the morning only to be accosted by a pack of raccoons because he forgot to close the bin lid the night before.

They prefer to stay in most nights, as they did at the bookshop but now they have a huge TV and watch old films or yet another David Attenborough special or yet another cooking program. Crowley usually falls asleep with his head on Aziraphale's lap because he always strokes his hair when he's laying there and Aziraphale gets to think of all the times that he resisted things like this as there were ample opportunities. This wasn't the first time Crowley fell asleep with his head in his lap, but now he can sit there and play with his husband's hair to his heart's content as his husband snores to where he can't hear the TV.

Aziraphale doesn't care that they skipped a honeymoon phase and went straight to retired married couple. They got to do it together. It took a few thousand years and a lot of patience and lots of time devoted to sitting down and finally talking. After 6000 years of heartache, stress, running, and hiding...the reward for their faith and love for each other brought them to a cozy cottage.

Their cottage. Their car (yes, it is). Their quiet life. Their "boring" life that still carries a bit of celestial magic that keeps their spark alive. That keeps their marriage like new every day, even in their new routines of living.

Crowley usually stirs himself awake from his loud snoring and smiles up at his angel. "Is it bedtime yet?"

Aziraphale glances at the old grandfather clock by the hallway. It's 8:30pm. He smiles and strokes his husband's cheek. "Sure...why not?"

[retromotherfuckers]

OBX Rock Band AU (headcanon)

Characters:

jj maybank, john b routledge, pope hayward, kiara carrera, sarah cameron

Word Count:

~700

A/N:

i have no idea if this has been done before but the idea came to me the other night in the shower lol. i’m in a band so you can guess what i loosely based this on

JJ - Drums

is my opinion biased on this one? probably

my favorite band member and character

the one with the most problems

drinks a little too much,  stoner

personal life in shambles most of the time

once he found the drums as an outlet he dove into it, eventually becoming an intensely devoted musician 

that drum set has seen some things

jj lets his anger out on that poor, innocent drum set

all the different pieces have had to be replaced so many times because he beats the living shit out of them

the one that got john b into rock music and the rest was history

he's not one of the chill drummers who just shows up and does their thing, this man is a show-off

so many tricks

long solos whenever the chance arises for one

flirts with the entire band

music genres: rock, grunge, alt, metal

bands/artists: Sex Pistols, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Nirvana, Guns N’ Roses, Def Leppard

John B - Lead Vocals/Rhythm Guitar

a no-brainer. this is practically canon

no i will not be hearing opposing opinions at this time

he's the frontman

the one most people's eyes are drawn to right away

controls the vibe in the room

him and jj put on a show

stoner

is naturally a gifted singer, but had a vocal coach for a little while to get some pointers

rhythm guitar because most rock songs need at least two guitars and he's played guitar since he was a kid just for fun

music genres: country, rock, alt, pop when jj isn't around

bands/artists: The Rolling Stones, Paramore, Fall Out Boy, Aerosmith, Taylor Swift, Johnny Cash 

Pope - Lead Guitar/Band Manager

he's just there to vibe but also an incredibly skilled guitarist 

the one that tries extremely hard to keep everyone on track, but can't because no one listens to him

also the one that found kiara and Sarah

he's classically trained, but he only did classical as a kid because that's what he thought the smart kids were supposed to do

he plays like Slash: relatively controlled body language, but his fingers fly back and forth on the frets 

music nerd

everyone can tell he loves what he's doing

manager because who else would manage these fools?

music genres: rock, alt, indie rock

bands/artists: Falling in Reverse, Foo Fighters, Arctic Monkeys, Green Day, Hozier, The Killers, The 1975

Kiara - Bass

i will not be accepting arguments on this one

she 100% grew up on cello, but wanted to rebel against her parents as a teen and switched to rock but realized she fucked with it

this girl is hot as all hell and knows it, but has nothing to prove

she's one of the more responsible members of the group but also super laid-back

stoner

effortlessly keeps everyone in check 

she just wants to vibe and play some songs

flirts with the entire band

weird, hippie, earthy screams bass player

music genres: indie rock, r&b, pop punk, anything from the '60s and '70s

bands/artists: Janis Joplin, The Strokes, Young The Giant, Hozier, Paramore, Joan Jett, Whitney Houston

Sarah - Backup Vocals

she was definitely an attention seeker in her young years and would've hated backup, but now she's perfectly content chilling in the background with some killer harmonies 

she has a few songs she leads in the set when john b needs a rest

she absolutely KILLS them

but she loves playing with the melody and adding a harmony on something that you wouldn't expect

this girl has perfect pitch so harmonizing takes about 3% effort from her

if a song is too low for her or too high for john b, she transposes everything (perfect pitch and all)

she will. not. touch. an electric guitar with a 10-foot pole. 

don't ask, i have no explanation for that one

on the occasion a song needs keys, she's the go-to

music genres: she's a retired theatre kid so she listens to just about everything under the sun except country

bands/artists: Taylor Swift, The Beatles, Queen, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Knicks, Amy Winehouse

[silvestromedia]

SAINTS FOR MARCH 12

St. Peter of Nicomedia, Roman Catholic Martyr. According to tradition, he was a chamberlain at the court of Emperor Diocletian at Nicomedia. Arrested for being a Christian when the last great persecution of the Church was launched at Diocletian's command, Peter was cruelly tortured by having the flesh stripped from his body and salt and vinegar poured and rubbed into the wounds. Finally, he was roasted to death over a fire. He is ranked as one of the first victims of the last persecution by the Roman Empire. Feastday Mar.12

ST. MAXIMILIAN, MARTYR IN AFRICA

Bl. Joseph Tshang-ta-Pong, Roman Catholic catechist and Martyr of China, put to death for the faith.Feastday Mar.12

St. Alphege, 951 A.D. Bishop and prophet, called "the Elder" or "the Bald." Also known as Elphege, he was the bishop of Winchester, England. There he ordained St. Dunstan. A holy prophet, Alphege is credited with helping to restore monasticism to England.

St. Mura McFeredach, 645 A.D. Irish abbot and disciple of St. Columba. He was named abbot of Fahan and is patron saint of Fahan in County Derry. Also called Muran and Murames, he is remembered by one of his crosses that remains standing at Fahan.

St. Paul Aurelian, 573 A.D. Welsh bishop. Probably of Roman-Welsh descent, he was the son of a local Welsh chieftain. He studied under St. Illtyd at the Ynys Byr monastery and, according to tradition, was granted permission to become a hermit. Ordained, he nevertheless gathered around himself a group of followers and acquired such a reputation for goodness that a king in Brittany asked him to preach the Christian faith to his subjects. Paul sailed to Caldey Island in Brittany soon after and founded a monastery at PorzPol on the island of Quessant. Later he established himself and his followers at Ouismor. There, over his objections, he was made a bishop, although he was finally permitted to resign after several years and retire to Batz. He was reputed to be able to perform miracles.

ST. INNOCENT I, POPE, He became Pope, succeeding Pope St. Anastasius I, on December 22, 401. During Innocent's pontificate, he emphasized papal supremacy, commending the bishops of Africa for referring the decrees of their councils at Carthage and Millevis in 416, Mar. 12

St. Seraphina, Roman Catholic laywoman known for her self denial and acts of penance as a young girl. Feastday March 12

[cruger2984]

THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT HENRY II, THE HOLY ROMAN EMPEROR Feast Day: July 13

Henry II, also known as Henry the Exuberant, was born on May 6, 973 AD in Bavaria, Germany, Holy Roman Empire, and is the son of Henry II of Bavaria and Gisela of Burgundy. He was Henry I of Bavaria's grandson through his father, and is the great-grandson of Henry the Fowler. On his mother's side, he was the grandson of Conrad the Peaceful, and the great-grandson of King Rudolph II of Burgundy.

He was educated in the Christian faith by Wolfgang of Regensburg during his father's exile, and studied at Hildesheim Cathedral. The Emperor himself ensured the younger Henry received an ecclesiastical education in order that by becoming a religious official he would be prevented from participating in the Imperial government.

The death of Otto II in 983 allowed the elder Henry to be released from custody and to return from exile. The elder Henry claimed regency over Otto III, the three-year-old child of Otto II. After a failed attempt to claim the German throne for himself in 985, the elder Henry relinquished the regency to the child's mother Theophanu.

In return for his submission to the child king, Henry was restored as Duke of Bavaria. The younger Henry, now thirteen years old, was named his regent over Bavaria. When the elder Henry died in 995, the younger Henry was elected by the Bavarian nobles as the new duke to succeed his father.

Sincerely religious, Henry II supported service to the Church (he was celibate) and promoted various monastic reforms. He also strongly enforced clerical celibacy, perhaps partly in order that the public land and offices he granted to clerics would not be devised to heirs. He encouraged the reform of the Church, fostered missionary activity, and made several charitable foundations for the poor.

Wished to become a monk, and in virtue of his imperial power he ordered the Abbot of Verdun to accept him in his monastery. Thereupon, the Abbot ordered him, in virtue of the vows he had professed, to continue the administration of the empire. Henry II fulfilled his duties in the spirit of humility and service, being convinced that temporal power was given by God for the good of the people.

He succeeded in persuading Pope Benedict VIII to include the word 'Filioque' in the Nicene Creed. The addition of the term provided that the Holy Spirit emanated from both God the Father and God the Son.

Together with the concept of Papal primacy, dispute over this doctrine was one of the primary causes of the Great Schism of the Church in 1054.

Henry II inherited several unresolved ecclesiastical disputes from his predecessor Otto III. Issues of particular importance were the reestablishment of the Diocese of Merseburg and the settlement of the Gandersheim Conflict.

Returning to Magdeburg, Germany from southern Italy to celebrate Easter, he fell ill in Bamberg. After celebrating Easter, Henry retired to his imperial palace in Göttingen, and died there on July 13, 1024 at the age of 51, without an heir, and thus Henry II is the last of the Saxon kings.

Henry II is canonized as a saint by Pope Eugenius III in July 1147; while Cunigunde of Luxembourg, his spouse, was canonized on March 29, 1200 by Pope Innocent III. Henry's relics were carried on campaigns against heretics in the 1160s.

He is the patron saint of the city of Basel, Switzerland, and of St. Henry's Marist Brothers' College in Durban, South Africa. During his lifetime, Henry II became an oblate of the Benedictine Order, and today is venerated within the Order as the patron saint of all oblates, along with St. Frances of Rome.

[cinemaocd]

February: Sweet Charity (1969)* Irma La Duce (1962)* Children's Hour (1961) The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)* The Boyfriend (1971)*

March: The Master * Poor Things (2023)* Dune (2022) Dune (1984) Dune II (2024)* Remains of the Day (1993)

April: Akira (1988)* Cleo from 5 to 7 * The Scar (1976)* Near Dark (1987)* Portrait of Jason (1967)* Hopscotch (1980)* Great Expectations (1974)* 12 Angry Men (1957)

May: Doctor Faustus (1967)* The Insider (1999)* Strange Days (1995) Passage to India (1984)* Booksmart (2019)* Bridge on the River Kwai The Sound Barrier (1952)* Ryan's Daughter

June:

The Birdcage (1996)* Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024)* Jublilee (1978)* Ugetsu (1953)* The Wonder (2022)* The Two Popes (2019) Don't Look Now (1973)* The Elephant Man The Man Who Laughs (1928)* Klute (1971) Summertime (1955) Beijing Watermelon (1989)*

July: The Devil, Probably (1977)* Deep Crimson * Eyes Without a Face (1960) The Locket (1946) Querrelle (1982)* 1776 (1974) So Fine (1981)* Times Square (1980)* Bodies, Bodies, Bodies (2022)*

August: Pretty Poison (1968)* La Bette (2023)*

September: Late Night with the Devil (2023)* Sisu (2022)* Madhouse (1974)*

October: The Great McGinty (1940)* Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person (2023)*

November: Tales from the Crypt (1972)* Masque of the Red Death * The Silver Fleet (1943)* Wicker Man They Made Me a Fugitive (1947) Obsession* Green for Danger Nothing Like a Dame * Le Samourai (1967)* Wicked Little Letters (2024)* Ladies in Retirement* Desert Fury (1947)* Conclave (2024)* Gilda (1946) Canterbury Tale (1944) The Substance (2024)* Mermaids (1990)* Time Without Pity

December: Flintstones (1994)* Don Pasquale (2007)* Darkest Hour Muppet Christmas Carol The Six Triple Eight (2024)* The Age of Innocence Heathers (1988) Lion in Winter (1969) Night on Earth (1991)*

Jenny's ongoing list of films watched 2024

January

RRR (2023)*

Peter's Friends (1992)*

The Lady Eve (1941)

How to Get a Head in Advertising (1988)*

High Fidelity (2000)

Frieda (1947)*

Oh...Rosalinda! (1955)

The Quick and the Dead (1995)*

The Barefoot Contessa (1954)*

The Life and Death of Col. Blimp (1943) Commentary Track (2012)*

Rhubarb (1951)*

The Birds (1963)*

House of Yes (1997)*

Cassandra Cat (1963)*

Foreign Correspondent (1940)

The Long Goodbye (1973)

Night of the Comet (1984)

The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961)*

For Me and My Gal (1942)*

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

The Small, Back Room (1949)

House of Games (1987)

Water (1985)*

The Ballad of John and Yoko (2023)*

The Meaning of Life (1983)

Track 29 (1988)*

*New to me

Thoughts on the New to Me films:

New Year's Eve we watched RRR, a lot of fun, energetic, bright and action-packed. I enjoyed the way that little attention was given to the British characters. They were straight up villains in ill fitting ahistorical costumes, kind of like the way Indian/Asian characters are treated in Western films most of the time...$$$

New Year's Day we watched Peter's Friends, a drama/comedy from the early 90s starring all of the famous Cambridge Footlights. Big Chill-ish film set in a country house over the Christmas holidays. $$$

How to Get a Head in Advertising was weird and also really good. Had a similar vibe to Withnail and I (possibly because of Richard E. Grant, but also possibly the mixture of the surreal with the realistic). Quite stage-y in some ways but clever and savage in it's satire of life in the 80s. $$$

Frieda: Oh I loved this! Weird World War II melodrama about a German girl marrying a British boy and all the trouble it causes with his complex family situation. Such a stellar cast including the late, great Glynnis Johns. $$$$

The Quick and the Dead: I set my expectations quite low for this and was pleasantly surprised. I liked Sam Raimi's comic book-y take on gunfighters and esp. loved Sharon Stone's character. We love to see a female action hero with no love interest. A nice twist on the Man with no Name trope. Excellent cast as well with Russell Crowe, Gene Hackman, Roy Scheider and Woody Stroud in his final film. $$$

The Barefoot Contessa: Joseph Mankewitcz is one of the geniuses of old Hollywood but this ain't it, chief. Just kind of all of the place melodrama that makes no sense and relies too much on Ava Gardner looking amazing in technicolor in the South of France. A bit of a commentary on Grace Kelly who a few years earlier married minor royalty on the Riviera. Even Rossano Brazzi can't save this mess for me. $

Rhubarb: Two genres I usually kind of hate (family-friendly animal centered film, sports film) combined into one and it's actually a lot of fun. Ray Milland and a bunch of classic character actors as the baseball team (also Leonard Nemoy has a tiny part as a mobster) in this slight/ predictable romp. $$

The Birds: Woah, shit this was good. I should have known. Amazing tension created and Hitchcock just sells the surreal horror with lots of rear projection...so. much. rear. projection. $$$

House of Yes: How about House of NOPE. Ugh what a mess this was. Some good performances and intriguing story, but it was very stagey and I don't know why the 90s couldn't make a story about adult children and their parents without reducing everyone to cliches and stereotypes but this and Six Degrees of Separation are definitely guilty of that, but the latter is just a better film. $

Cassandra Cat: Takes a long time to get to the cat which given that this was a family film from the 60s might be a problem for some viewers, expecting a more cat-centric movie. Interesting riff on fairy tales from the Czech New Wave. Beautiful Demy-esque technicolor and settings make this 60s nonsense fly by. $$

The Day the Earth Caught Fire: 60s nuclear panic disaster film that really just shows the earth as it is now in the throws of global warming. Yikes. Thoughtfully written and well acted by a bunch of folks I'd never heard of. $$

For Me and My Gal: Directed by Busby Berkley and starring Gene Kelly and Judy Garland and set in the 1920s on the Vaudeville circuit, I was expecting a lot more fun, dancing, color, costumes etc. This is actually more of a black and white war time melodrama with some music shoved into it and the dancing is very rudimentary. (I think this is probably because Garland esp. at this stage wasn't in the same league with Gene Kelly and I think it would have been too noticable...). Filmed at the entry of America into WW2 this was quite a deliberate propaganda piece. $$

TLADOCB Commentary: I've watched this movie 20 times at least but the commentary really made me think about a bunch of things differently. Can't say I recommend unless you are fanatic though as it's obviously pieced together from interviews Michael Powell and Martin Scorcese $$

Water (1985): If you smoke the exact right strain of sativa and ignore some of the more dated aspects of this 80s comedy, that reads as if Local Hero were a Cheech and Chong film--this is a total classic. Irreverent Michael Caine just straight up breaking character the minute he turns into a guerilla fighter in the jungle and being far too competent and cool, and then snapping back to sweetly shy, inept British Civil Servant, finding he actually loves his hated backwater post (the invent Casara part Caribbean, part Devon Jurassic Coast) while having to actually do his job. Political satire and fully both barrels to Maggie Thatcher and Reagan. Good on em. Filmed in St. Lucia, the movie has a zany heart and little taste, hoovering up vast quantities of competent TV players from my youth: Herman Munster and Reginald Perrin to name but two. Awkward love story and some uneven acting from Valerie Perrin and Brenda Vaccaro. I enjoyed myself, heartily, anyway. $$$

The Ballad of John and Yoko: Technically a video essay with amazing production values (the licensing alone was epic) dragging together disparate topics around the central theme of women being blamed for bad things happening to infantalized male geniuses. Is it the most coherent argument? No. Does it absolutely tap into many unexpressed or implied ideas that have been floating around since me too? Absolutely. $$

Track 29: This was some of the worst casting I've ever seen in a film. When I think of Texas nurse who is into trains and spanking, I don't automatically think of comedian Sandra Bernhardt. When I think of an actress of that era who was old enough to play Gary Oldman's mother, I don't think of Theresa Russell who is the same age as Oldman and looked every bit as young as he did in the film. Maybe that was the point? I'm not sure. The story was weird, like a Southern Gothic melodrama/black comedy ala Flannery O'Connor, but there was something off about the whole thing.

[toppersbitch]

Innocence // JJ Maybank x Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Summary: JJ overhears a convo between Kie, Sarah, and you and decided to take matters into his own hands.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: smoking marijuana, alcohol,  teasing, praise kink, choking, begging, unedited work

-----------------------------

The heat of the fire lit your face as you sat leaning on Kie. Sarah sat across, roasting a marshmallow. The pipe was passed to you, you held the light and covered the hole, taking a long inhale. The back of your throat burned, and your head clouded as you held your breath. You finally exhaled, watching it mix with the smoke from the fire. 

“Girls' night is gonna be so fun,” you giggled, “Finally we can gossip without the boys.” 

“About the boys,” Sarah said, letting out she inhale of smoke. 

“Give me more, I don’t wanna think,” you said grabbing for the pipe again. You took a hit, sitting there. You goofily flopped onto your side, letting the breath out. 

“I don’t want to think about Kelce for another second,” you had just broken up with him, a year of your life down the drain. 

“I don’t even know why you got with him,” Sarah giggled.

“It’s not like he’s even good in bed,” Kie said, staring straight at you. 

“Why the fuck would you know?” Sarah asked, a baffled look on her face. 

“Woah woah not like that, y/n told me.” Kie threw her hands up in the air signaling she was innocent. 

“Wait tell all!” Sarah got up and skipped over to Kie and you. She kneeled and smiled widely. 

“Okay well-“ you paused gathering your thoughts, “he doesn’t like foreplay.” They both dropped their hands to their laps, eyes wide. 

“Like none at all?” Sarah started at you while hitting the pipe. 

“Like maybe like a minute of fingering max,” you thought back to all the times, “oh and he never reciprocated oral.” 

“Oh my god you have to be kidding!” Kie threw her hands in the air, “you never told me all that.” 

“He’s also never touched my boobs, only grazed by fucking accident,” you rolled your eyes. 

Kie and Sarah both looked at them with eyes wide open. 

“And I’ve only orgasmed twice,” you smiled goofily.

“Out of how many times?” Kie added a marshmallow to her stick.

“Lik-“ you were cut off abruptly. 

“AHHHHHHH” the boys come jumping out of the bushes, alcohol in hand. 

You jumped up, terror filling you. Kie threw her roasting stick, marshmallow and all. Sarah covered her eyes and curled into herself. 

They began to laugh, JJ falling holding his stomach with one hand and a bottle of vodka with the other. John B picked up Sarah, and Pope dodged Kie’s stick. 

“You guys were supposed to come back till tomorrow morning,” you pouted, worrying they heard anything you said. 

“Well coming early never hurt anyone,” JJ raised an eyebrow at you. You felt yourself blushing as everyone else laughed. 

“Pretend like you didn’t hear please I’m begging,” you placed your hands together flat and shook them towards him. He began to laugh at you, holding his stomach. 

“Maybe you should’ve done that for Kelce,” he slapped his knee, and you shot him a glare. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” his hands surrendered. 

The conversations and laughs continued through the night, the fire slowly dying as you all stopped trying to keep it alive. John B and Sarah disappeared into the château, and Kie and Pope retired to sleeping bags on the HMS Pogue. It was only you and JJ, poking at the ashes on the fire. 

“Soooo,” JJ dragged out, raising an eyebrow, “how are you feeling about your breakup?” 

You rolled your eyes, the inevitable topic of the week. You dropped the stick you had been poking around with. 

“Fine I guess, kinda lonely.” You laid back on the blanket, laying a hand across your stomach. 

“You can’t be lonely when I’m here,” JJ jumped up, dragging his blanket towards yours. He laid down hitting his head on yours. 

“Ow, watch it.” You said bringing a hand to rub the spot. You laid, top of head to top of the head. You felt his hair, softer than any hair you’d ever felt. You lost yourself, running your hands in it.

His hand lazily draped itself onto your face, feeling your nose and eyes, and finally stopping to caress your jaw. His thumb found your lips and your hand halted it playing in his hair. His thumb slid across your upper lip, then pushed down on the bottom. You opened and his thumb slipped inside, he pushed down on your bottom teeth as you swirled your tongue around.

He slid the finger out, your lips smacking back together. 

“Good girl,” JJ whispered, your stomach filled with butterflies as your body began to tingle.

His hand disappeared from view and his head came back into view shortly after. He had a gentle smile on his face as you sat up. The two of you sat across from each other. 

“So Kelce really never touched your…” He finished by looking down, his eyes falling upon your breasts in the tank top.

“No,” you shook your head, looking down ashamed. You subconsciously began to pick at your fingers, trying your hardest to ignore JJ’s gaze on you. 

“No, don't be embarrassed,” he grabbed your hands to stop the picking, “some men just don’t know how to please a woman.” 

You let out a breathy laugh, your body shaking. His hand moved up from your hand to your arms. Squeezing lightly, his fingered tips were rough and calloused in comparison to your soft and tanned skin. He reached for the strap of your tank top, stopping. 

“May I?” He made eye contact, and you nodded. He moved the straps off your shoulders, you pulled the top over your head. You became alarmingly aware of how much skin was showing now. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he smiled down at you, his hands laying on your thighs, “here I’ll take my off too.” He lifted him off and you looked up and down his tanned and toned body. 

“Come on, you can touch,” he pulled your hand to his abs, “I know you want to,” he smirked at you winking. You allowed yourself to run your hands down his abs, feeling every line. You felt your way down his happy trail, tracing the band of his swim trunks. 

You pulled at them, letting them bounce back onto his skin. He let out a gasp and you a giggle. 

“Cruel,” he said, his hand moving forward, his finger grazing over your clothed cunt. Your body jumped, and you looked up and saw a smirk on his face. He continued to move his hand, reaching for the button of your shorts. 

He began to unbutton them, watching your face as you watched his hands. 

“Is this alright?” He asked, you nodded eagerly. “Hm?” He questioned your response. 

“Yes, it’s alright.” You said just wanted him to rip them off already. You laid back allowing him to pull them off. His hands met your hips, making you tense and relax. His finger plays with the bikini bottoms. His hands continued up until they were caressing your face, and he moved to straddle you. 

“So Kelce never did any of this?” His thumb moved back and forth across your face. 

“No,” you pressed your face into his hands, forcing more contact. 

“Do you want to keep going?” His eyes met with yours, piercing blue into yours.

“Yeah,” your voice was barely above a whisper. He moved his head down towards you. Connecting your lips, finally giving you some release. His tongue pressed into your mouth, and you gasped for air. His tongue fought with yours in a playful way, leaving you on the edge of dominance. 

His hands kneaded every inch of your body, finally landing on a breast. You moaned in response, you chuckled into the kiss. 

“Such a good girl,” he praised your noises, and your body tingled again, “tell me how good I make you feel,” one hand moved up to your throat and squeezed lightly, “tell me.”

“Mhmm so good,” you barely responded through your moans. 

He moved down, pulling your breasts out of its cup, his mouth attached to your tit. His tongue moved around widely while he sucked. His hand moved down slipping into your bottoms. His finger moved along the slit. 

“Please,” you begged through moans. He slid a finger in, pumping it in and out. You moved your hips, wishing to feel more. He lifted his head from your chest and smirked up. He slid another finger in, making a different feeling arise. He began to move his fingers differently, hitting your g-spot. You bucked your hips up, he moved his fingers faster. Your stomach tightened, and your hand gripped JJ’s forearm. You could feel his muscles tensing with every movement. Your entire body tensed up, ecstasy taking over. You dug your nails into his arms, his fingers still pumping in and out. 

“One more,” he urged you, his hand continuing its movements. Quickly your stomach released and tightened again. You pushed your legs together, JJ’s free hand moving to push them open, he continued moving his fingers in and out. 

“Come on darlin.”

“Fuck,” you whined out, and your leg began to shake involuntarily. Your body is filled with static, an overwhelming feeling taking over your body. 

“Good, just like that,” JJ said, his voice gruff and demanding. He stopped, slowly pulling out his fingers. His hand traveled up your mouth, his fingers lightly grazing your skin. He pushed his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself, “so good for me.”

He pulled up your bikini bottoms, his hands resting on your hips. 

“Thank you, JJ,” your voice was surprisingly light and quiet. 

“Anytime you need baby,” he laughed his normal JJ laugh, laying down on his back, “now go to sleep,” he was using his fake authoritative voice. You did so, watching the stars above you, the view interrupted by tree branches above

-----------------------------

I won't lie this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for so long(like fr since season 2 was released)! I figured this was the perfect time to finish and post it. I hope everyone enjoys!!!

Find my other stuff HERE

[histoireettralala]

Blanche, Marguerite, and Queenship

Blanche's actions as queen dowager amount to no more than those of her grandmother and great-grandmother. A wise and experienced mother of a king was expected to advise him. She would intercede with him, and would thus be a natural focus of diplomatic activity. Popes, great Churchmen and great laymen would expect to influence the king or gain favour with him through her; thus popes like Gregory IX and Innocent IV, and great princes like Raymond VII of Toulouse, addressed themselves to Blanche. She would be expected to mediate at court. She had the royal authority to intervene in crises to maintain the governance of the realm, as Blanche did during Louis's near-fatal illness in 1244-5, and as Eleanor did in England in 1192.

In short, Blanche's activities after Louis's minority were no more and no less "co-rule" than those of other queen dowagers. No king could rule on his own. All kings- even Philip Augustus- relied heavily on those they trusted for advice, and often for executive action. William the Breton described Brother Guérin as "quasi secundus a rege"- "as if second to the king": indeed, Jacques Krynen characterised Philip and his administrators as almost co-governors. The vastness of their realms forced the Angevin kings to rely even more on the governance of others, including their mothers and their wives. Blanche's prominent role depended on the consent of her son. Louis trusted her judgement. He may also have found many of the demands of ruling uncongenial. Blanche certainly had her detractors at court, but she was probably criticsed, not for playing a role in the execution of government, but for influencing her son in one direction by those who hoped to influence him in another.

The death of a king meant that there was often more than one queen. Blanche herself did not have to deal with an active dowager queen: Ingeborg lived on the edges of court and political life; besides, she was not Louis VIII's mother. Eleanor of Aquitaine did not have to deal with a forceful young queen: Berengaria of Navarre, like Ingeborg, was retiring; Isabella of Angoulême was still a child. But the potential problem of two crowned, anointed and politically engaged queens is made manifest in the relationship between Blanche and St Louis's queen, Margaret of Provence.

At her marriage in 1234 Margaret of Provence was too young to play an active role as queen. The household accounts of 1239 still distinguish between the queen, by which they mean Blanche, and the young queen — Margaret. By 1241 Margaret had decided that she should play the role expected of a reigning queen. She was almost certainly engaging in diplomacy over the continental Angevin territories with her sister, Queen Eleanor of England. Churchmen loyal to Blanche, presumably at the older queen’s behest, put a stop to that. It was Blanche rather than Margaret who took the initiative in the crisis of 1245. Although Margaret accompanied the court on the great expedition to Saumur for the knighting of Alphonse in 1241, it was Blanche who headed the queen’s table, as if she, not Margaret, were queen consort. In the Sainte-Chapelle, Blanche of Castile’s queenship is signified by a blatant scattering of the castles of Castile: the pales of Provence are absent.

Margaret was courageous and spirited. When Louis was captured on Crusade, she kept her nerve and steadied that of the demoralised Crusaders, organised the payment of his ransom and the defence of Damietta, in spite of the fact that she had given birth to a son a few days previously. She reacted with quick-witted bravery when fire engulfed her cabin, and she accepted the dangers and discomforts of the Crusade with grace and good humour. But her attempt to work towards peace between her husband and her brother-in-law, Henry III, in 1241 lost her the trust of Louis and his close advisers — Blanche, of course, was the closest of them all - and that trust was never regained. That distrust was apparent in 1261, when Louis reorganised the household. There were draconian checks on Margaret's expenditure and almsgiving. She was not to receive gifts, nor to give orders to royal baillis or prévôts, or to undertake building works without the permission of the king. Her choice of members of her household was also subject to his agreement.

Margaret survived her husband by some thirty years, so that she herself was queen mother, to Philip III, and was still a presence ar court during the reign of her grandson Philip IV. But Louis did not make her regent on his second, and fatal, Crusade in 1270. In the early 12605 Margarer tried to persuade her young son, the future Philip III, to agree to obey her until he was thirty. When Philip told his father, Louis was horrified. In a strange echo of the events of 1241, he forced Philip to resile from his oath to his mother, and forced Margaret to agree never again to attempt such a move. Margaret had overplayed her hand. It meant that she was specifically prevented from acting with those full and legitimate powers of a crowned queen after the death of her husband that Blanche, like Eleanor of Aquitaine, had been able to deploy for the good of the realm.

Why was Margaret treated so differently from Blanche? Were attitudes to the power of women changing? Not yet. In 1294 Philip IV was prepared to name his queen, Joanna of Champagne-Navarre, as sole regent with full regal powers in the event of his son's succession as a minor. She conducted diplomatic negotiations for him. He often associated her with his kingship in his acts. And Philip IV wanted Joanna buried among the kings of France at Saint-Denis - though she herself chose burial with the Paris Franciscans. The effectiveness and evident importance to their husbands of Eleanor of Provence and Eleanor of Castile in England led David Carpenter to characterise late thirteenth-century England as a period of ‘resurgence in queenship’.

The problem for Margaret was personal, rather than institutional. Blanche had had her detractors at court. It is not clear who they were. There were always factions at courts, not least one that centred around Margaret, and anyone who had influence over a king would have detractors. They might have been clerks with misgivings about women in general, and powerful women in particular, and there may have been others who believed that the power of a queen should be curtailed, No one did curtail Blanche's — far from it. By the late chirteenth century the Capetian family were commissioning and promoting accounts of Louis IX that praise not just her firm and just rule as regent, but also her role as adviser and counsellor — her continuing influence — during his personal rule. As William of Saint-Pathus put it, because she was such a ‘sage et preude femme’, Louis always wanted ‘sa presence et son conseil’. But where Blanche was seen as the wisest and best provider of good advice that a king could have, a queen whose advice would always be for the good of the king and his realm, Margaret was seen by Louis as a queen at the centre of intrigue, whose advice would not be disinterested. Surprisingly, such formidable policical players at the English court as Simon de Montfort and her nephew, the future Edward I, felt that it was worthwhile to do diplomatic business through Margaret. Initially, Henry III and Simon de Montfort chose Margaret, not Louis, to arbitrate between them. She was a more active diplomat than Joinville and the Lives of Louis suggest, and probably, where her aims coincided with her husband’s, quite effective.

To an extent the difference between Blanche’s and Margaret’s position and influence simply reflected political reality. Blanche was accused of sending rich gifts to her family in Spain, and advancing them within the court. But there was no danger that her cultivation of Castilian family connections could damage the interests of the Capetian realm. Margaret’s Provençal connections could. Her sister Eleanor was married to Henry III of England. Margaret and Eleanor undoubtedly attempted to bring about a rapprochement between the two kings. This was helpful once Louis himself had decided to come to an agreement with Henry in the late 1250s, but was perceived as meddlesome plotting in the 1240s. Moreover, Margaret’s sister Sanchia was married to Henry's younger brother, Richard of Cornwall, who claimed the county of Poitou, and her youngest sister, Beatrice, countess of Provence, was married to Charles of Anjou. Sanchia’s interests were in direct conflict with those of Alphonse of Poitiers; and Margaret herself felt that she had dowry claims in Provence, and alienated Charles by attempting to pursue them. Indeed, her ill-fated attempt to tie her son Philip to her included clauses that he would not ally himself with Charles of Anjou against her.

Lindy Grant- Blanche of Castile, Queen of France

[thetudorslovers]

Philippa of Hainault & Edward III:

"They formed one of the great royal marriages of the Middle Ages. Despite these slights, the relationship was flourishing. Edward III had found in his wife a loving, supportive partner. After a 16-year-old Philippa gave birth to their first child, Edward of Woodstock (later known as the Black Prince), on 15 June 1330, the teenage king found the courage and will to overthrow his mother and to have the detested Roger Mortimer executed – hanged at Tyburn, where his body was left to swing for two days and two nights. Edward’s mother was held under house arrest and relieved of the vast estates and income she’d granted herself, then pushed aside to enjoy a lengthy and pampered retirement until her death in 1358. Edward had taken control of his kingdom. This, in turn, meant that in late 1330, almost three years after her wedding, Philippa of Hainault finally became queen in more than name."

John of Gaunt & Katherine Swynford:

"It was not long after Sir Hugh’s death that Katherine became John of Gaunt’s mistress; although some sources suggest the couple were lovers even before Sir Hugh’s death, which has brought into question the paternity of Katherine’s eldest son by John of Gaunt. However, the majority of historians agree the relationship between John and Katherine started in late 1371 or early 1372 and was developing well in the spring of that year, when Katherine received rewards and a significant increase in her status within Gaunt’s household."

Joan of Kent & Edward of Woodstock:

"The prince was deeply in love; in 1367 he addressed his wife as “my dearest and truest sweetheart and well beloved companion”. The marriage was very successful, the couple were happy and their union blessed with two sons, Prince Edward  and Prince Richard. Yet, despite the prince’s love for his bride, she was in many ways a surprising choice, and, it has been argued, an unsuitable one. On 10 October 1361 Edward and Joan had married in a formal ceremony. Pope Innocent VI had granted a papal dispensation, allowing the two of them to be wed, due to the degrees of consanguinity."

Source: historyextra

[elancholia]

>:)

All these different trends converged in the great querelle over Lothar II's divorce from Theutberga, in 857–69. This ought to have been simple. Lothar had married Theutberga, from the prominent aristocratic family of the ‘Bosonids’, in 855 but soon turned against her and sought in 857 to return to his former partner Waldrada, with whom he had had a son, Hugh. Marriage law was tightening up in the ninth century, however; Charlemagne could put away a wife, but Lothar had to have reasons. He came up with the claim that Theutberga had had anal sex with her brother Hubert, had become pregnant as a result (impossibly, of course; his supporters invoked witchcraft), and had aborted the foetus: incest, sodomy and infanticide all at once. Theutberga proved her innocence in an ordeal in 858, but Lothar staged a show trial at a council in Aachen in 860, where she was forced to confess her guilt and retire to a monastery.

(Wickham, The Inheritance of Rome, pp. 754–755)

One is left wondering where they stuck the coathanger. Anyway, a synod and the papal legates upheld the judgement, so it was referred to Rome, where Pope Nicholas I, to his credit, threw it out and deposed the two archbishops who brought it to him. So,

Lothar never got his marriage dissolved, and died of fever in 869 in Italy, where he and his brother Louis II of Italy were trying to ‘persuade' Nicholas's perhaps more pliable successor Hadrian II (867–72) to change the judgement.

The system works!

In principle I'm uninterested in any more epic fantasy about high nobility but I have to admit that if it involved more stuff like 'court proceeding alleging someone was cursed with erectile dysfunction by a witch so his wife can get their marriage annulled annulled and then hook up the king's favorite/lover' instead of just swording I might sing a different tune.

[spaceasianmillennial]

The AU where Thomas Lawrence is elected Pope and is famous for being Depressed Pope

as you can imagine, being a Pope John is STRESSFUL. But he still does the papacy right with compassion, despite his gilded cage. He has Aldo Bellini to guide him, but it isn't enough.

Soon enough, because of his demeanor, the world makes meme of the "Sad Pope." No matter how much Lawrence forces a public smile, it's so clear that Pope is DEPRESSED, despite doing the job well. Sometimes Monsignor Raymond O'Malley has to scroll through social media posts like "Free that Princess" memes directed at the Pope.

"That's not a pope. That's a PRINCESS!"

"I'll save you, PRINCESS!"

"Pope John is PRINCESS."

"Pope John is saving the world but who is gonna save THAT PRINCESS?"

"That PRINCESS is just languishing in her ivory tower."

"The Vatican is the dragon. Pope John is the PRINCESS."

"Ray, how can I take this?"

"To be fair, maybe you should stop acting like a Princess."

Years down the line, he makes that difficult decision to retire, reasoning that his soul has been so taxed that he can't fulfill the spiritual depth.

And then that's when Vincent Benitez becomes Pope Innocent.

[searchingforserendipity25]

still not over lawrence's choice not to share the names of the cardinals who accepted tremblay's bribes.

a very generous spiritual shepherding choice that gives them a wide range of possibilities for repenting, atoning, finding their way to grace.

a sensible decision that keeps the conclave from turning into an outright trial and exposition circus. also that.

it certainly makes it clear that tremblay has no incentive to snitch on them, which is, again, a grace for tremblay, who doesn't dig himself/his reputation/his eternal soul deeper into a traitorous well. and, again: less division, less bitterness.

but after the conclave. first of all, he literally did break the papal seal. secondly, going 'confidential info for the pope's eyes only' on the biggest corruption scandal in the vatican is going to be very tricky to pull off. even without getting into the possibility of tremblay confessing their names, and assuming tremblay's fate is decided entirely by innocent xiv, whatever that ends up being.

there is the tricky situation that, by all means, and by every sensible measure, cardinal lawrence is sitting in a gigantic blackmail goldmine, and everyone is just sort of letting him get away with it.

a bad look for the new administration. a really really bad look for the new administration, if cardinal lawrence is kept on dean of the college/secretary of state/the pope's confessor/the pope's assistant/keeps existing in general.

not for lack of hoping god would smite him, in all fairness.

what are the guilty cardinals up to, in the immediate period after innocent's election? clearing their accounts, possibly. running off. not running off to try not to be suspicious. praying. considering poisoning the new pope. considering poisoning lawrence.

one of them at least gives all their money, bribes included, to a refugee support network, in the hopes of sucking up to his new holiness and/or saving his soul.

a few of them, i like to think, do come forward of their own volution. a few, even just one, kneel in front of the new pope, after taking confession with the dean.

not, of course, that the dean doesn't know already their names, their faces, the contents in their bank accounts - but they want, perhaps, to give their side of the story, too.

be heard, forgiven, absolved, sent to innocent's office not just because they must, but because it is their atonement. with that little dose of courage that comes from obligation, and guidance - because they were weak and their weakness is not singular but symptomatic, and to go forward it has to come to the light.

some of them might even want it to. the church is what happens after, for everyone.

really, everyone.

'i trust cardinal lawrence implicitly,' innocent xiv declares in official statement. 'he acted according to the principles of the universal church and christ's teachings.'

'that's lovely,' says the patriarch of venice, and the curia, and the catholic press, and the rest of the press too. 'who even are you, by the way?'

this is of course putting aside the possibility of a clever cardinal putting their copy of the reports against a really really really bright flashlight and squinting really really hard.

all in all i'd give it five days before the scandalous finger-pointing really hits a high point.

and this, i argue, is how thomas lawrence can still get to retire. in disgrace and possibly defrocked, sacrificing himself by throwing his whole career and calling on a sword for vincent benítez papacy - in short, a chivalrous dream come true.

he's fine! he's found god again in self-sacrifice, he has begun to make peace with new forms of prayer through listening, paying attention, acting.

whatever happens next for him may not be in the curia or even the church, but he has a renewed trust in people, a faith that striving to do better is possible, despite the consequences, and worthwhile, regardless of the consequences.

besides, vincent has asked to call him sometimes, and has already sent him a number of photos of the turtles in the pond with very sweet messages. they're doing voice call prayer sessions, they're alright.

don't worry about him. worry about cardinal loreto, who is hiding out in his grandparents' old abandoned homestead to avoid going on trial for taking bribes and might be eaten alive by all the rats in the cellar.

[cognacdelights]

fluorescent adolescent [7]

the romantic tirades of indie routledge series masterlist

my outer banks masterlist

add yourself to my taglist

fluorescent adolescent by arctic monkeys 

summary: angry and upset at the way she was treated, indie gets her revenge on an oblivious jj. however, not before she gets the release her touch-starved body has been craving in his absence. 

warnings: sexual content. dirty talk. public sex. underage drinking. angst. swearing.

There weren’t many skills in life that Indie Routledge had mastered; she was considered by most as a give-it-a-go kind of girl. Well, that was until it came to math, as Pope Heyward had come to realise after attempting to explain algebraic equations to her. Let’s just say, Indie thought of algebra as more of a foreign language, rather than a sub-branch of math. Cheerleading during her freshman year faired far better - motivation-wise, at least. The brief, three week period in which Indie had somehow made it onto Kildare County High’s award-winning cheerleading team had been plagued with a plethora of slips, trips and falls. A sprained ankle - and a broken nose on Thalia Ramos’ part - had swiftly ended the young Routledge girl’s career as a flyer. However, her career as an electric guitarist, not-so-astonishingly, was even shorter. After two weeks of out-of-tune strumming and accompanying tone deaf vocals, Big John had gently suggested that she retire from the demanding world of rock and roll and had promptly sold the guitar to a friend of a friend; not to mention, Wonderwall was banned from the Routledge household for the foreseeable.

However, there was one thing that she had come to master during her fifteen trouble-filled years on this godforsaken planet - besides raising absolute hell for her at-a-loss brother. Grudges. Indie Routledge could hold a grudge longer, and harder, than the best of them. There was no escaping the feisty, sharp-tongued hellcat’s wrath once you had entered into the notorious realms of her bad side. From the intense, acrimonious death glares, to the caustic, bitter snipes of her venomous tongue, to the suffocating quiet of her silent treatment; you would bare witness to it all, as the insufferably oblivious JJ Maybank had come to find out the hard way.

As his bare, sun-soaked shoulders leant against the cushioned back of the bench, he peeled the sweat-ridden skin of his thighs from the scolding leather and rested his hips nonchalantly on the edge of the seat. He brought the freshly-opened can of beer up to his lips - taking a long and generous sip - as the scorching, mid-day sun beat down above him. The reflective lenses of his off-brand sunglasses covered his murky, cobalt eyes, allowing him to shamelessly devour her curvaceous silhouette from the opposite side of the deck. His tongue dragged lazily along the chapped ridges of his bottom lip as her dainty fingertips bunched around the faded, stone-washed fabric of her over-sized t-shirt, pulling the garment up and over her tousled top-knot.

“Dude,” Pope’s reprimanding voice attempted to pull the shaggy-haired blonde from his hormone-induced trance, accompanied by an abrupt slap against his shoulder, “he’d kill you if he saw you looking at Indie like that.” Despite his quite adamant disapproval, the usually soft-spoken boy couldn’t resist taking a swift glance in Indie’s direction; the ruched, ivory bikini - which only just covered her most intimate of areas - was a stark contrast against her bronzed, olive-toned complexion, that glistened celestially under the Mid-Atlantic sun. She was utterly a sight to behold, and that fact was undeniable - no matter who you were to John B.

“I’m just admiring the scenery,” JJ responded somewhat casually, an air of dismissiveness present within his gravelly tone. However, whilst the blasé words that so effortlessly rolled off his tongue indicated one thing, his inconspicuous eyes suggested another; behind the over-sized, reflective glasses, his cerulean orbs were drinking in her scandalously-clad, slender figure and indulging themselves in all of her glorious liberties. His searing gaze fixated on her cleavage, refusing to relent as she obliviously leant forwards in an attempt to reach the tanning oil - the thin fabric of her bikini shifting ever so slightly to expose even more of her chest to him. A haughty, brazen smirk tugged briefly at the corners of his lips as he revelled in the sight before him; whilst Indie merely sported B cups, her boobs were delightfully perky and the two spear-headed, titanium bars which penetrated either side of her taut, rosy nipples were a definite turn on for him.

Leisurely regaining her posture, she adjusted the loosely-tied string of her bikini top, which had slipped uncomfortably high up her back. The lackadaisical movements allowed her to flaunt the perfect amount of sun-kissed side boob, and showcase the heart-shaped, do-it-yourself stick and poke tattoo that had been drunkenly carved into the left side of her rib cage. A lustful moan vigorously clawed at the back of JJ’s throat, desperate to surpass his beer-soaked lips and resonate through the salt-laced, open-ocean air. He suppressed the ungodly groan with a subtle cough as his hazy, indigo eyes continued to follow her cleavage - her love-marked breasts bouncing ever so slightly with each sprightly step she made towards him. 

“Will you?” the sultry melody of Indie’s voice diverted Pope’s rigid gaze from the calm, distant waves of the horizon. His deep umber eyes swiftly fell upon the half-empty bottle of tanning oil, which she had half-heartedly thrust in his general direction - purposefully avoiding her barely-clothed silhouette at all costs. He would be downright lying to himself if he refused to admit that she was a radiantly beautiful temptress, and that the odd inappropriate thought hadn’t grudgingly crept it’s way into his typically innocent mind on occasion, but he knew it was wrong on so many levels; if he existed in the Garden of Eden, then Indie Routledge was the forbidden fruit that devilishly taunted him from the evergreen trees above. She was his best friend’s little sister, after all. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he admitted solemnly, bringing his almost-empty can of tepid beer to his lips. Once again, his cautious, mocha eyes concentrated on anywhere but her exposed physique as they peered above the metal rim, settling on her luminous, cinnamon orbs out of safety. Indie’s signature pout painted her olive complexion as her neatly-plucked eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Pope stared back at her with a deadpan expression - as if it were completely obvious as to why he refused to place his sinless hands on her sun-drenched, bikini-clad body. 

Outstretching his upturned palm, JJ interjected their conversation with a nonchalant offer, “give it here.” Indie was forced to finally acknowledge his presence after a prolonged period of subjecting him to her soul-crushing silent treatment, eventually allowing her mahogany eyes to fall upon his relaxed, shirtless silhouette as a sour scowl contorted her doll-like features. Her cold, impassive gaze trailed along the toned lengths of his athletic body as she silently mulled over her next move. She so desperately wanted to stand her ground with him, however a subtle arching upwards of his untamed eyebrow saw her reluctantly caving in to his demands with a defeated exhale. 

“Just know that you were the last resort,” her vicious tongue sniped with it’s venom-laced words, as she forcefully placed the tanning oil down in his hand - the grease-coated bottle slapping loudly against his calloused palm on impact. 

Pope let out a rapid breath of air in the form of an uncomfortable whistle tone before standing from the scorching, leather seat, “I’ll leave you two to it then.” His bare feet padded against the blistering fibreglass decking at an increasing pace, cautious not to burn the already sensitive skin of the undersides of his feet, as he approached the similarly scolding ladder. Wisely, he opted to launch his sculpted, over-heating body into the sweet, frigid relief of the open waters, instead of slowly and painfully descending down the fire-like steps. 

In a sanctimonious display, Indie swiftly swivelled on the heels of her feet, leaving the teal-eyed boy with the glorious sight of her voluptuously pert ass. The corners of his upper lip twitched ever so slightly - a satisfied smirk creeping across his chiselled, stubble-lined features for a fleeting moment as he insolently admired the sight before him. She, however, stared out into the distant waves, observing intently as the remaining pogues frolicked carelessly around in the placid waves.

His audacious fingertips took it upon themselves to curl beneath the double-knotted ties of her bikini bottoms, inching her hour-glass figure ever close to him until he could feel the smooth lengths of her sun-kissed legs against his. The warm palms of his hands wandered the short distance to her voluptuous hips, applying a gentle touch of pressure to guide her petite frame into his welcoming lap; his ring-cladded hands carrying a certain authoritative and domineering contingence that Indie simply couldn’t ignore.

With his paw-like palms coated in a generous amount of tanning oil, JJ began tenderly caressing the dainty, sun-kissed broads of her shoulders - his masterful thumbs massaging the coconut-scented product into her skin in soothing circles. Indie’s incandescent eyes fluttered closed as her tense, aching muscles reluctantly relaxed under his delicate fingertips, an almost inaudible moan of satisfaction slipping out from between her slightly parted lips. Seven painfully long days and pining-filled nights had passed since she had last felt the invigorating touch of his fingertips against her searing skin, and the mere, innocent gesture of him rubbing in her tanning oil was slowly - but surely - beginning to douse the week-long, burning rage which she had directed towards him. 

“You like that, hmm?” he hummed imperiously, his tone low and gravelly as his thin lips grazed ever so lightly against the soft skin of her neck with each spoken word. Her slender arms pricked with goosebumps - almost as if on cue - as she felt the faint scruffs of his stubble tickle against her exposed collarbone, and his taunting lips curl upwards into a haughty, satisfied smirk. In truth be told, JJ Maybank had missed their secret, intimate rendezvous; he longed for the subtle hint of watermelon that lingered on her plump, luscious lips and hankered for the euphoric sensation of her tight, dripping pussy clenching around his painfully hard dick once more.

“I’d like it a lot better if you shut up,” Indie spat with a sour tongue. 

“Hey, watch the mouth, madam, before I put it to good use,” JJ responded with a playful warning, mistaking her seething snipes as her infamous, satire-laced flirting. The smug smile which had painted itself across his defined, rosy-tinged features grew ever so slightly, as the mischievous tips of his stubby fingers toyed with the loosely-tied knot of her bikini top. Teasingly, he pulled the thin, ivory band towards him before abruptly letting go - allowing the lax elastic to snap somewhat gently against her spine; of course, it wasn’t anything too rigorous, just a little something to capture and secure her attention.

“Try it, I dare you,” her dark, mahogany eyes peered upwards at the taller, shaggy-haired blonde, the back of her head resting comfortably against the brawny muscles of his squared-off shoulder, “I’m in a biting mood.” His murky, indigo eyes met with hers as his wandering palms slipped casually beneath the double-knotted tie and continued to carefully massage the sweet-smelling oil into her beautifully bronzed skin in effortless, gentle, circular motions. She was facing a real confliction of emotions in that moment; the insolent smirk which, not so graciously, graced his sunburnt complexion fanned the flames of her hurt-fuelled hatred towards him - however, the way his masterful hands tenderly caressed her back doused the fire just as rapidly. 

“Mhmm, there’s that attitude that I love so much,” JJ countered her fiery quip with a lighthearted chuckle. His beer-stained lips placed several sloppy kisses into her tamed, chestnut tangles as he allowed his free-spirited hands to dauntlessly inch around her front. Indie’s gaze dropped - suddenly - to the two bear-like palms that had brazenly slithered beneath the thin, ruched material and cupped both her petite, bouncing breasts in a domineering hold. His audacious hands were pleasantly warm as they sensually fondled her cleavage - his masterful thumbs working every inch of her hickey-littered skin as heavy, jagged breaths surpassed her chapstick-coated lips. A quiet, lascivious whine echoed between them as his gentle fingertips toyed with her nipple piercing, twirling the titanium rods around in a painfully slow motion. 

“The only thing you love is the sound-” Indie’s vindictive words were crudely interrupted by an elated gasp forcing it’s way out from the depths of her throat, as his mischievous fingers flicked against her hardened nipple. Frustrated by his teasing touches, she sunk her two front teeth into the rose-tinted flesh of her bottom lip in a desperate bid to discourage the searing, sensuous heat that was promptly building between her sun-soaked thighs. 

“What was that, Squirt?” his taunting, husky voice questioned. Her terracotta eyes had focused themselves on the frayed, princess-printed beach towel that laid flat against the opposing, leather cushions, but she just knew from the blatant mocking in his inflections that an overbearing, pompous beam had plastered itself across stubble-lined features. This only enraged the dainty, sour-tongued virago further. 

“The only thing you-” she began again, her tone significantly lower, resembling more of a resentful and infuriated growl. However, her malicious words were once again disrupted by a second high-pitched, pleasure-filled gasp as the calloused tip of his thumb flicked against her excited nipple once again and his sumptuous, massaging motions became increasingly more rigorous. As valiant as they were, her efforts to smother the lustful heat emanating from between her now clamped together thighs were futile - as her scant bikini bottoms dampened with desire. 

Feeling the drenched material clinging against the exposed skin of this muscular thighs, JJ’s audacious fingertips retreated from the comforting shelter of her bikini top. Painstakingly slow and ever so lightly, he traced the concave outline of her hour-glass figure until he reached the soaking wet haven of her bikini bottoms. His chapped, beer-laced lips found a sweet spot nestled within the crook of her neck and began their salacious assault, as his work-worn palms allowed themselves to forcefully slip between the crack in her love-marked thighs. JJ proceeded to prise them apart with an authoritative touch of pressure, having her spread her bare, sun-drenched legs so he had full and unrestricted access to her gloriously sodden core. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he informed in his trademark, throaty tone - although he knew in his bones she wouldn’t; Indie Routledge had gone seven days without his tantalising, expert touch and her svelte, slightly-toned body was evidently just as touch-starved as his own. 

Slipping his ring-clad finger beneath the utterly soaked fabric of her bikini bottoms, he ran a teasing stripe along her dampened folds - drawing a long, lecherous moan from the back of her throat. His sharpened teeth grazed against the now mauve-tinged patch of skin as his thumb found her acutely sensitive bud of nerves. He worked a, gentle at first, series of figure eight motions against her swollen clit, enticing a melodic symphony of pleasure-filled purrs and whines from between her slightly parted lips. With each passing second, his masterful motions grew rougher and more abrupt. 

Pushing the juice-soaked fabric entirely to the side, he lathered both his middle and ring finger in her pearl-like nectar before thrusting them into her yearning warmth. Instinctively, Indie clamped her dainty palm across her mouth, muffling the emphatic, enraptured moans that soon followed his fast-paced thrusts. JJ abandoned his rhythmic figure eight motions as he focused solely on thrusting his fingers deep and hard into her dripping core - expertly curling them up against her delicate pleasure point. Her voluptuous hips rocked in synchronisation with his rapid momentum, the cool metal of his rings contrasting against the sweltering heat of her pussy. 

Squeezing her clouded, cinnamon eyes shut, Indie released a barrage of sinful expletives and high-pitched moans into the safety of her clasped hand. She could feel the beginnings of her much-anticipated high building in the pit of her stomach as the already tight walls of her soaking pussy contracted around his stubby fingers. With a pleased-with-himself smile still contorting his sunburnt complexion, his thumb returned to it’s previous salacious cycle of pressing rigorous circular motions against her delicate rose bud. Her lubed-up walls clamped hard around his silver signet ring and he took this as his cue to hastily retreat from her warmth. 

“Don’t you dare,” she whimpered at the sudden loss of contact - fury detectable in her strained, stringent tone. A low, tormenting laugh vibrated from the depths of his vocal chords as he nectar-drenched fingers drew cursive patterns against her inner thighs. 

Minutes dragged by as his hazy, teal eyes watched her heaving chest regain it’s gentle composure, before plunging his two long and stubby fingers back into the depths of her still soaking core. Indie’s head subconsciously threw itself backwards - resting against the burly broads of his shoulders - as his pace quickened with each vigorous thrust. JJ’s calloused thumb found her swollen clit once more, reprising his previous cycle of sensuous figure eight motions alongside his momentous thrusts. Salacious moans continued to spill from between her chapstick-coated lips as she allowed his free hand to guide her seductive curves into a synchronised rocking - forcibly meeting against the juice-soaked balls of his knuckles. Once again, the rigid clamping of her core’s warm and nectar-stained walls around his masterful fingers triggered JJ’s hasty retreat - still sporting the imperious smirk which Indie had come to loathe with a searing passion. 

“I hate you,” she spat, overwhelmingly frustrated. Taking charge of the unfolding situation, Indie’s lavender-painted fingertips tensed around his bracelet-clad wrist - dragging his loosely clenched fist back between the hickey-painted plains of her inner thighs. 

“If you hate me, you wouldn’t want me doing this, would you?” his gravelly, sardonic tone tormented as his juice-stained fingers found themselves thrusting themselves vigorously back into the warm depths of her forbidden fruit. With great difficulty, she suppressed the raucous whines and elated moans which clawed desperately at the back of her throat as she indulged herself in the lascivious contact between them. Several sloppy, rigid plunges had her yearning, touch-starved centre clenching tightly around his fist for a third time. JJ - once again - attempted to deny the cinnamon-haired hellcat her release; however, her juice-stained thighs reacted much quicker than he could and clamped themselves together - trapping his teasing fingers within her sodden core. She was desperate for a release. 

“Alright, you win, pretty girl,” JJ cooed into her ear, a deep laugh resonating through the salt-laced, mid-ocean air. Cautiously, her thighs relaxed their rigid hold around his bruised-covered fist and allowed his dauntless fingertips to ease back into their fast-paced thrusts. Within seconds, Indie was bordering on the edge of her orgasm for a fourth time; her hankering walls fell into a desirous cycle of clenching and un-clenching around his juice-covered knuckles in anticipation of the euphoric high she had been craving all week and her lecherous whines filled the oppressive, muggy air surrounding them. One set of ballerina-shaped fingernails dug themselves into the burly flesh of his thigh as the other carelessly sunk into the clammy palm of her hand - her dainty fist contracted into a tight ball as she bit down into the tanning-oil-covered flesh in a successful attempt to silence her pleasure-filled screams. 

“Fuck, I wanna feel that tight pussy clenching around my dick so bad,” the shaggy-haired blonde let out a carnal groan - his chapped lips capturing hers in a steamy, lascivious kiss. Everything about their raunchy embrace was sloppy, needy and unchaste as his large, sweat-riddled palms guided her enticing hips so that they faced his. Her petite knees sat either side of his shirtless, athletic silhouette - trapping him beneath her aching, eager pussy. 

“Mhmm?” Indie taunted with a sultry hum, her plump, luscious lips remaining in a salacious synchrony with his. Grinding her nectar-soaked heat against the very tip of his hardened dick, she felt his pulsing length continuing to grow as it strained uncomfortably against the unforgiving fabric of his swim shorts. Her desperate fingertips combed through the tousled waves of his fair locks, tugging carelessly on the straw-like ends. 

“Mhmm,” JJ struggled to responded, his hormone-focused brain transfixed on the euphoric sensation of her damp, clothed pussy rubbing against his dick. 

“Too bad, pretty boy,” she purred against her earlobe, her tone swiftly transforming from one thick with desire and lust to one laced with bitterness and revulsion, “you better sort yourself out before John B sees.” Adapting his harsh words from the previous week, she spoke with the same causticity and sourness - completely removing her scandalously-clad figure from his yearning grasp. An acidic scowl contorted her bronzed, doll-like features as her darkened, sorrel eyes bore into his unphased.

“What the fuck?” he questioned with an un-amused groan, completely perplexed by her abruptly sudden turn of mood. His still cum-drenched hand reached out to coil around her dainty wrist and coax her back into his welcoming lap - however, as his ring-cladded fingertips clasped onto her, she snatched herself from his grasp with a cold and impassive stare. “What is the matter with you, huh?” his now highly-frustrated tone pushed for anything resembling an explanation, “you’ve been one hell of a bitch all week and it’s wearing pretty fucking thin, India.”

“Did you just call me-” the utter shock of his use of her government name stopped her from finishing her exclamation - the venom-filled, rage-fuelled words getting caught in the back of her throat. Her bare, exposed chest heaved with jagged breaths as she struggled to contain her anger; JJ Maybank had never - not once - ever referred to her as India in the eight years that he had known her, until now. Indie’s cheeks flushed an enraged rouge, as did the tops of her ears, as she finally reached her boiling point. “Do you know what, Jesse James? You’re a real piece of shit. Fuck you, and your one inch wonder. I’m done with you and whatever this is.”

“This,” JJ gestured between the two of them with his forefinger, “isn’t anything. You’re just a smart-mouthed little girl seeking out attention that she can’t handle, and I’m not fucking entertaining it anymore.”

Taglist: @bellaguarneri @spilledtee @outrbanks @ilovejjmaybank @outerbxmalia @parkerpetertingle @jjouterbanks @summerintheobx @poguelifesurfshop @o-b-x @maybanksmalfoy @pogue-writings @milamaybank @heypopemain @wtfstarkey @trinnwazheree @corebore123 @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @queenniccimicci @maybankslut @jiaraendgame @starlightstarkey @abbiesthings @dannii-li @tempestuousjj @abbiesthings @stfukie @diverrdown @curlybrownhairedboys @joshy-obx @jjmaybankx @fanofmany @jjtheangel​ @obxlife @tangledinsparkles @jayjaymaebank @linctaviaxbellarke @rafecamerondeservesbetter @belledutchess @tembo-ndoto @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @secretmoonphantom @lolitstiana @blindedbyyourgrace17 @rudyypankow @sunwardsss @john-shelby @angelicbabybutterfly​ @kamcrazy123​ 

[maybebanks]

Special Treatment

JJ Maybank x Y/N

You and JJ get busted and are forced to spend the night in jail. Only Y/n gets some much resented special treatment. Leaving JJ jealous.

“I can’t believe we got caught. I’m gonna be in so much shit for this,” JJ muttered, raking a hand through his messy blonde hair.

You felt very guilty, if it wasn’t for you, JJ wouldn’t have gotten caught trespassing. He was a faster runner than you, and you had tripped, resulting in a pathetic injury.

“Hey, are you good? I know you have that ‘3 strikes’ thing going on with Peterkin..and - oh shit Y/n! Your leg is bleeding,” JJ said, moving you to sit down so he could get a better look.

“It’s fine,” you protested, “and don’t worry about me. You have your dad to worry about,” you mentioned.

JJ frowned, “don’t remind me,”

You were familiar with this cell, though it was way better when shared with JJ. You were here just yesterday, busted for shop lifting.

It was clear you were rebelling. And JJ wanted to know why.

He was intrigued.

“When we get outta here...can we go separately?” you said softly.

“Why? I was hoping we could grab food at the Wreck...please...” he trailed off, grabbing both of your hands and trapping them in his.

“No...I mean..you know I get scared of your dad. And besides, my mom wants me home,” you admitted.

JJ frowned, “yeah. I know. You get all..shakey,” he shrugs.

“I do not!” You blurted, pushing one of his shoulders.

“Yes you do, you’re hands are like this,” JJ told you, then put his hand out and started moving his wrist to shake his hand at a fast speed.

“Oh fuck you,” you groaned.

“Sure I’m down,” JJ joked.

“What?” You gave him a dirty look.

“You know,” he smirked, then he leaned over to you and started rubbing your shoulders, “you like that? Uhhh!” He moaned.

“Shut up!! You dumbass! They’re gonna hear!!” You scolded him, shoving him off of you.

“Yeah and what would they think? You more of a handjob or a blowjob kinda girl?” he joked.

“Oh my god...okay you need to..to chill with the horny boy act, got it? I know you’re just trying to get at me..but I’m not in the mood,” you sighed. Standing up and walking towards the edge of the bars.

“I see blushing,” JJ pointed out, pointing to his own cheeks.

You rolled your eyes, looking the other way.

JJ raised his hands in defense, “I didn’t mean to offend you. Just wanted to lighten the mood. Maybe get this tension under wraps,”

“There is no tension.” You stated.

“There is with you. You’re super tense,” JJ added.

“I just...I have a lot going on,” you shrugged.

“Wanna..” JJ paused, kicking his feet against the concrete, “..talk about it?”

“No thanks...” you sighed, returning to sit next to him again.

“Whatever it is,” JJ placed a comforting hand on your thigh, “I’m sure you can handle it.” He said. He knew you weren’t going to tell him, so he decided to give you confidence.

You stared at his large hand on your thigh, his rings shining from the light through the windows.

You smiled softly. And he returned it.

Before he could say some dirty one liner, the cell door opened.

You and JJ stood up.

“Y/n, let’s go.” The officer directed. He wasn’t the usual one who dealt with the jail people, he was a patrol officer. He has blonde, short hair he was tall, and looked about 30-40 years old.

“But..what about-“ You began.

“Just you.” He stated, looking into your eyes.

You looked back at JJ, he just shrugged.

So you followed the police officer out of the cell, and waved goodbye to JJ.

The officers hand met your lower back as you walked with him through the station. He nodded at a few cops at desks, no one seemed to question him as he walked you out the front door.

As an excuse to get him to stop touching you, you turned around, asking him a question, “excuse me. What’s..what’s going on?” You asked nervously.

“How about I give you a ride home,” he suggested, pointing to a small cop car.

“My friend...in there, I can’t just leave him,” you said.

“Maybank kid. Yeah I saw his record. For some reason, Peterkin always looks the other way, something to pity, I’d assume,” the Officer explains.

You sighed, knowing exactly what he was talking about, JJs dad.

“I can..um I can walk home, thanks,” you told him, walking around him.

He grabbed your wrist gently, “if I hadn’t done what I did, you’d be spending your night in that cell. Let me give you a ride home,” he almost ordered.

You bit the inside of your lip, but he was a cop, what was he gonna do? Kill you. Please. You shouldn’t be afraid of him.

You nodded, and he smiled, directing you to his car.

You attempted to get in the back seat, but he scolded you, and told you that you should sit in the front.

He drove you home, and parked in your driveway.

“I’ll walk you inside, make sure everything’s okay,” he said.

“Sir, I’m alright, it’s like 20 feet away,” you said, but he ignored you.

When you got to the front door, you knocked, him by your side.

Your mother answered, shocked, and quite unhappy at the sight.

“What did she do?” Your mother sighed, you looked at the floor.

“Ma’am, I’m officer Darren Wilden, we’ve met before, I was just escorting your daughter from the jail cell. Would’ve spent the night there, if I hadn’t got her out of there,” he told her.

You groaned.

Stepping up and heading inside, past your mom. She would have surly yelled at you, but she was now distracted by the officer.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

Retiring to your room was not a great as you thought, you could hear your mother laugh at Officer Wildens stupid jokes, she even made dinner for him. So you put in headphones, falling asleep to your favorite playlist.

You woke up at your usual time, to spend the Saturday with the pogues. Excited, you headed downstairs for breakfast, still in your pajamas. You missed dinner last night, and were craving a muffin or something.

You entered the kitchen in slow steps, hearing someone cooking bacon or something. Your mom never cooks.

“Mom?” You asked, but your question was quickly answered.

Wilden was standing in your kitchen, shirtless, a white towel wrapped around his waist.

“Oh my gosh,” you blinked in shock. What hell was this?

“Good morning. Want any eggs?” He said nonchalantly. Standing near the fridge.

You scoffed. Walking around him, “no thanks,”

A few seconds later, your mother walked in.

She studdered, “uh Darren, why don’t you head upstairs, I’ll take care of breakfast,”

He nodded, “yeah sure,” and left the kitchen.

“What does he live here now?” You said sarcastically to your mom.

“Give me a break, honey....” your mother sighed.

“Yeah..whatever. I’m going to John B’s,” you said bluntly, then hastily left the house.

Once joining the group, you were basically silent the whole time.

“So! Y/n, how was jail?” Kie asked, smiling.

“How..how did you know?” You asked, “JJ you literally suck at keeping ur mouth shut,”

“What?!” He laughed, “I used to be brag about corrupting the good girl. But now your a convict just like me,” JJ shrugged, implying that you shouldn’t care.

Truly you just didn’t want to be traced back to Wilden, you hated that connection you now had. Could it even turn into blackmail? It just made you sick.

“Did you know JJ was in that cell for 24 hours longer than y/n! That’s some sexism right there,” John B mentioned.

“Don’t joke about that, dude,” Pope scolded.

“What? It’s true.” He defended.

“Wait...JJ, your dad didn’t show up to-“ you were surprised he had spent the night in the cell.

“Yeah. They didn’t even call him. For some reason, you got special treatment,” JJ said, nudging your arm.

That’s when it hit you. Your mother probobly did this to keep you out of jail. You felt sick. Horrible of what you had to done to make your mother do what she did.

“Whoa...you okay Y/n/n?” JJ asks, nudging you again.

You flinched at his nudge, but tries crossing your arms to cover it up.

You didn’t answer.

“You got all pale,” Pope added.

“Y/n/n, are you okay?” JJ repeated.

“I need some air,” you blurted, then jumped up and walked away from the group out on the doc.

“But we are outside,” JJ grumbled.

“JJ go talk to her,” Kie suggested.

“Me? She doesn’t wanna talk to me,” JJ shut down.

“Yes, she does. Now talk to her,” Kie demanded.

JJ grumbled curses to himself, he didn’t like to go be forced into things. And he didn’t want you to see him as a guy who didn’t know what to say.

JJ took off his hat and fumbled with it, “I really don’t mind...the uh extra jail time. But if you were there...I could’ve asked you if your-“

“Jesus, JJ,” you sighed.

“What did I do?” JJ asked, sitting down text to you on the dock.

“It...it’s everything. Like...I don’t want you here, so leave,” you insulted. You really wanted him to stay, but not give him the opportunity to find out how dishonestly you got out of jail.

“Okay. Easy, done,” JJ stated. But instead of getting up and leaving you in the dust, he moved closer to you, his knee touching yours.

You started to cry, why did he care? The tears were falling so fast you missed a few falling down your cheek. One landing on JJ’s knee.

“She...I can’t..it’s just stupid. And I hate myself.” You stuttered. Between gasps.

JJ put his arm around you, “why?”

“Because... she,” you said quietly, “slept with him,”

JJ frowned, distancing you from him slightly, “the cop?! Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you said disappointedly.

“God damn, Y/n.” He said shaking his head.

“Please don’t tell anyone, J. I don’t really know why I told you. I just I can trust you,” you sighed.

“Yeah...uh okay Y/n. I’m uh I’m gonna go,” he shrugged, then stood up.

“W-wait! I need you J, where do you have to go?” You asked innocently.

“Look, if you think I’m okay with this? I’m not. Sex with a cop? Are you fucking kidding? What about us? All summer!” JJ exclaimed.

“Hold on-“ you attempted to explain, because JJ thought it was you.

“No. You know what. I feel like shit for ever opening up to you. I need some space from you.” He said disgustedly.

You started balling again, “JJ. It wasn’t me! What’s wrong with you!” You said, deeply offended by that accusation. Both you and jj had slightly developed feelings for eachother, but denied them the whole summer.

No one ever acted on them.

“What’s wrong with me? You’re the slut!” JJ shouted.

“Excuse me?!” You screamed back, offended.

JJ sighed, he took off his red baseball hat and threw it on the ground.

“To me, Y/n, a slut sleeps with someone to get something out of it. And that’s what you fucking did,” JJ retaliated.

“Fuck you. It wasn’t even me,” you mumbled, walking past him and down the driveway.

You didn’t want to go home. You were planning on spending the night at John B’s, but JJ really hurt you.

JJ replayed the conversation in his head, trying to figure out what he missed.

He regretted shitting on you, name calling. That wasn’t him, and it certainly wasn’t you.

You never explicitly told him it was your mom, but JJ believed you, that it wasn’t you. Now you just needed to talk.

You arrived at your house after walking for nearly an hour. But you couldn’t go in, not when you saw a cop car parked outside.

This angered you. How could he be here again? How could your mother do this?

Suddenly, a car drove up behind you. You were afraid to look. In case it was another cop.

“Hey, Y/n,” you heard JJ’s voice call.

You were stubborn, so you didn’t turn around.

“I shouldn’t have called you that shit. And I shouldn’t have let you leave. Wanna...let me apologize with dinner? On me,” JJ beamed, pleading.

“That would be nice,” you fought a smile, hopping in the passenger seat next to him.

more JJ reads!

[silvestromedia]

SAINTS FOR MARCH 12

St. Peter of Nicomedia, Roman Catholic Martyr. According to tradition, he was a chamberlain at the court of Emperor Diocletian at Nicomedia. Arrested for being a Christian when the last great persecution of the Church was launched at Diocletian's command, Peter was cruelly tortured by having the flesh stripped from his body and salt and vinegar poured and rubbed into the wounds. Finally, he was roasted to death over a fire. He is ranked as one of the first victims of the last persecution by the Roman Empire. Feastday Mar.12

ST. MAXIMILIAN, MARTYR IN AFRICA

Bl. Joseph Tshang-ta-Pong, Roman Catholic catechist and Martyr of China, put to death for the faith.Feastday Mar.12

St. Alphege, 951 A.D. Bishop and prophet, called "the Elder" or "the Bald." Also known as Elphege, he was the bishop of Winchester, England. There he ordained St. Dunstan. A holy prophet, Alphege is credited with helping to restore monasticism to England.

St. Mura McFeredach, 645 A.D. Irish abbot and disciple of St. Columba. He was named abbot of Fahan and is patron saint of Fahan in County Derry. Also called Muran and Murames, he is remembered by one of his crosses that remains standing at Fahan.

St. Paul Aurelian, 573 A.D. Welsh bishop. Probably of Roman-Welsh descent, he was the son of a local Welsh chieftain. He studied under St. Illtyd at the Ynys Byr monastery and, according to tradition, was granted permission to become a hermit. Ordained, he nevertheless gathered around himself a group of followers and acquired such a reputation for goodness that a king in Brittany asked him to preach the Christian faith to his subjects. Paul sailed to Caldey Island in Brittany soon after and founded a monastery at PorzPol on the island of Quessant. Later he established himself and his followers at Ouismor. There, over his objections, he was made a bishop, although he was finally permitted to resign after several years and retire to Batz. He was reputed to be able to perform miracles.

ST. INNOCENT I, POPE, He became Pope, succeeding Pope St. Anastasius I, on December 22, 401. During Innocent's pontificate, he emphasized papal supremacy, commending the bishops of Africa for referring the decrees of their councils at Carthage and Millevis in 416, Mar. 12

St. Seraphina, Roman Catholic laywoman known for her self denial and acts of penance as a young girl. Feastday March 12