#bi pope

[borreall]

academy era jayvik stainglass ✨ (i started this while the new pope was being chosen and I didn't know until I finished the sketch)

[tiredgriffin]

Anyone who's obsessed with Benitez or Assente should watch Midnight Mass ASAP

[destiel-wings]

she's the cuntiest woman and the cuntiest man, she's the icon, she's the moment

THIS IS WHY ALL ITALY IS EXPERIENCING BI PANIC TODAY

[squirrelwrangler]

What is Wheel of Time about

Book or TV show?

The book series is 14 very thick fantasy novels with a very large cast (of which when broken down has more named female characters than male) and multiple plot lines. It helped to inspire A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones - but it is far less bleak and has way less sexual violence (a easy accomplishment). If you’re also familiar with the Dune movies/tv shows and Lord of the Rings, you’ll also see parallels. And like a lot of fantasy it has SF elements. And if you like Dreamworlds and Alternative Realities and glimpses of the past and such, yeah. Written in the 90s by an old cis straight white guy, but one that was in many ways progressive for his time, so your mileage will vary. There’s a post that answers almost exactly this same question that I wrote years ago that goes into this a little more.

But what is it actually about? It’s called Wheel of Time because the central premise is the world operates as a long circle of time with narrative-driven reincarnation. The book/show world is both the inspiration of all of our real world legends and our far far future after magic is discovered thousands of years in the future and a few calamities have leveled it. What that means is there’s a lot of Easter Eggs and familiarities if you know your mythology, in particular Arthuriana. For instance, a character hangs from a tree and sacrifices an eye to gain knowledge, has a pair of ravens symbolically important, and their personality is also very trickster-like. At no point are they called Odin, but if you know Norse Mythology, you go “oh yeah this guy inspires stories about Odin or is his reincarnation”. There’s a lot of vague Jungian and Vedic inspiration if you can’t tell.

Okay, really.

3,000 years ago was a high-tech peaceful society where some people could do magic and thus worked as public servants, very utopian. But then Evil Personified was unsealed, monsters and war unleashed, some of the wizards turned evil, long war was fought. One of the most powerful wizards, a man nicknamed Dragon, seals away both the Dark One and the top evil henchmen wizards - but it was a patch job. Evil monsters still around, people still pledge loyalty to cause evil. And as a counterattack during the sealing, the Dark One is able to place a sickness on the male half of the Power which forces every male wizard then and in the future to go mad. In their madness they destroy the world. Thousands of haywire magical nukes would do that. Female side of wizard Power is still okay, so only female wizards left. They help rebuild the world; societies that re-emerge are thus far more matriarchal than the real world. Men would can use magic are hunted down before they can go mad and start hurting themselves and others. People are understandably Terrified of Male Wizards. Only female wizards allowed. These female Aes Sedai, their Wizard Vatican City, and their factions are a large portion of the plot of both book and tv show. Do you want to see a lot of middle-aged women in gorgeous costumes fighting with magic and scheming? This is the show for you.

So, 3,000 years later, the Pattern that controls-and is created by- the Wheel of Time (lot of weaving and loom metaphor in the metaphysics) decides that the Dragon needs to be reincarnated along with a couple other key people in order to have another Last Battle against the Dark One to hopefully start a new turn of the Wheel/new age (and on evil’s side here’s the chance to reset things in their favor or break the Wheel itself).

Moiraine, an Aes Sedai, learns through a prophecy that the Dragon has just been reborn, so she spends the next twenty years trying to find them before evil does. There’s a long list of accumulated prophecies about the Last Battle and the people and events around it people are also worried about. Lot of plotting as everyone thinks they have the best idea of how to do it. Again, in comparison to Game of Thrones where almost everyone was scheming to win the Iron Throne and ignoring the White Walker invasion, think of it as here all the rulers know about the White Walkers coming and they’re fighting wars with each other to be the one to lead armies against the White Walkers because only their plan will work.

A common joke is that this very very long book series would be much shorter if characters properly talked and coordinated with each other. Teamwork is a central theme (both when you have it and when you don’t).

In an isolated community (think The Shire but instead of hobbits it’s a bunch of tax dodging Appalachian hillbillies or Elizabethan yeoman) Moiraine finds five young people that the Pattern has singled out as Very Powerful Main Characters. Okay, she thinks, one of them is the Dragon Reborn.

Problem is, none of them want to do the Magic Quest Protagonist Plot Stuff; they know that sucks. Moiraine has to get them to do it anyway. Our Gandalf figure is a middle aged queer woman (with a strictly platonic soulmate bodyguard) who has trouble with sharing the whole truth to other people (she is magically forbidden from outright lying) stuck herding a bunch of cats named Rand, Mat, Perrin, and Egwene. And later Nynaeve. By the end of book one/season one we know (but the rest of the world doesn’t) who the Dragon Reborn is - and that they need their friends and others by their side to have a chance of winning the Last Battle. All of them are main characters. Yes, the Dragon Reborn is Main Character- but more than one book in those 14 has barely any page-time dedicated to them. Plot is a Tapestry; not a line. That’s the least spoilerly explanation that I can give.

The tv show is about to start season three in a week (which will be mostly plot from book four, arguably the best book). Each season is eight episodes. Covid and recasting issues meant that the finale of season one had to be reworked and the first book was always the weakest with an infamously weird/weak ending. The show obviously had to change a lot form the monster book series, but it has imho the spirit of the books and often improved them. The casting is diverse- properly so instead of just tokenism- which pissed off a lot of racist fans. That and changes from books and that the main showrunner is a gay man means that there’s a vocal online faction of haters. My two main fantasy series, formative in fact, are Wheel of Time and the Silmarillion/Tolkien. I ADORE the Wheel of Time tv show but I could barely watch any of Rings of Power. Make of that what you will.

Hopefully, anon, this was helpful.

[avastrasposts]

Almost; Always

Plot: This is a one shot drabble exploring what could've been a relationship between Fish and Pope. I've written them once before and I've been meaning to revisit their dynamic. This fic is also a belated gift for @for-a-longlongtime for being a lovely person and being the one who inspired and pushed me to step out of my ususal f/m comfort zone and explore the dynamic in a m/m relationship❤️

Frankie Morales x Santiago Garcia

Author Note & Warnings: Mostly just lots of feelings, some fluff, some angst, some explicit smut.

Thank you lovely @lady-bess for the banner!

The first time was a drunken mistake, or at least that’s what Frankie told himself afterwards. Drunk on whiskey, Santiago’s tequila shots sharp on his tongue as he pushed the shorter man against a wall at the back of the bar. Seven weeks of basic training on the base, seven weeks of no opportunity to relax, no way to blow off steam, no privacy. A couple of hundred young men, hormones raging? The local town braced when the new recruits were let off their leash. 

But he couldn’t share in the excitement the guys in his unit were showing at the sight of the local girls, all dressed up in short skirts and low cut tops. Something hot and uncomfortable was sitting in the pit of his belly, his best friend leaning against the bar, one hand wrapped around a shot of tequila, the other wrapped around the waist of a brunette. An unfamiliar feeling of jealousy, of the way the girl smiled at Santiago, slipped her hand over his shoulders and admired his biceps, trapped under the stretch of his brilliantly white t-shirt. He was annoyed at the way the girl took up his friend’s time, their first night out, away from base. He’d been looking forward to throwing darts with him, getting drunk and laughing at stupid shit, the way Santiago always laughed at his jokes, bent double and wheezing, grabbing hold of Frankie’s arm to stay upright. And then finding the late night taco truck rumored to serve up some of the best carnitas  in the state. They’d only just met seven weeks ago, but he wanted to sit in peace with him, talk about the shit they never had time to get to back at base, the important stuff, eat greasy tacos and hear Santiago tell him it’d all be alright. 

But now Santiago only had eyes for the brunette, touching her chin, teasing her about something, laughing while she giggled. Frankie shook his head in annoyance and ordered another whiskey, letting his gaze travel across the rest of the bar.

“Frankie!” Santiago yelled, “Hey, man! C’mere!”

He only shrugged when Santiago waved him over, and nodded towards the men’s room in the back. Downing his whiskey, he’d made his way through the busy bar, across the heaving dance floor, shaking off the hands of a blonde who grabbed his shoulders and tried to gyrate her hips against him. 

The music was thumping in his chest when he found the men’s room and shoved the door open. A soldier he recognized was bent double over one of the toilets, emptying the contents of his belly into the white porcelain bowl. The stench filled the room, and Frankie quickly backed out. 

The music hit him loud again, and he turned left, away from the bar, towards a backdoor exit. The humid air gave him very little respite as he let the door slam close behind him, but at least it was clear. 

The cheap cigarette was acrid on his tongue when he took the first drag, but the familiar taste, the soft hit of the nicotine, calmed him enough to lean back against the wall and take another drag. The door behind him rattled as it opened, the thump of the music growing loud again.

“I’m buzzing, man,” Santiago snorted, unsteady on his feet, “I’m never getting my dick up for her if I have another shot.” 

He slumped against the wall opposite Frankie, holding out his hand for the cigarette. 

“You should find her friend, that blonde, she was looking for you earlier.”

Frankie shrugged and shook his head, “Nah, not my type.” 

“Ah c’mon, they share a place, we can do a foursome. I’ve seen your dick enough times to know you won’t disappoint.” 

“Why are you looking at my dick, man?” Frankie snapped, sharper than he’d intended, but Santiago just laughed, bright brown eyes sparkling as he nodded at the bulge between his friend's denim clad thighs. 

“Fucking impossible to avoid, Frank, even all dressed up it’s looking right at me, not to mention when you’re swinging that thing around in the shower.” 

Santiago chuckled and handed Frankie the cigarette, his other hand grabbing the air in front of Frankie’s crotch as if he was judging the weight of his friend’s junk. 

“Fuck off!” was all Frankie could reply, his cock twitching uncomfortably as Santiago’s hand came too close. 

“I bet all the guys, even the straight ones, have been looking at your dick, Frank. Seven fucking weeks without sex is too much for them to handle. Me, I’m just enjoying the view.” 

Santiago was laughing again, as Frankie squirmed and took a deep drag of his cigarette. He didn’t like the way his friend was talking, he was so fucking horny, Santiago was right about seven weeks being a long time. But none of the girls at the bar did it for him, he already knew that. He tried to laugh with Santiago, but it came out like a nervous chuckle, a non-committal grunt.  

To cover up his awkwardness, he took a last drag and handed the rest over to Santiago, tightly crossing his arms and his legs as the other man put the cigarette to his lips and pulled in the smoke. His eyes were on Frankie’s, his face serious now, letting his mouth pucker around the filter as he held the other man’s gaze. 

“You’ve got such a pretty cock, Francisco,” he said, the words matter of fact, as he exhaled the last of the smoke, dropping the glowing butt of the cigarette to the ground. 

Frankie let out a strangled sound, and Santiago took half a step closer, no longer leaning against the wall behind him. 

“Fuck off,” Frankie said again, but this time it held no power, and he could feel Santiago’s words wrapping around the pleasure center of his brain, blood rapidly filling his dick, his pretty cock. 

The phrase had made his vision cloud, turn hazy, lust and need filling his veins, his mouth watering, his lips dry. And the other man was just standing there, still smirking. 

Santiago grunted when his back hit the rough wall, the air escaping his lungs with a whoosh. Whiskey breath filled his mouth, Frankie’s hot lips pressed hard against his own. A sharp, sweet moment, fingers digging into his shoulders, hips grinding as he grabbed them, tugging them closer, seeking the friction of his friend’s hard cock against his own, the moan his mind would replay later as he chased release back in his bed. 

Over too soon. 

Frankie stumbled back, eyes wide as his hands dropped to his sides. The two men staring at each other, the smile on Santiago’s lips, confusion written across Frankie’s face. 

His heart was racing, his mind still hazy, the taste of the tequila, the imprint of Santiago’s hands grabbing his hips still clear on the skin under his jeans. 

Santiago opened his mouth to say something but Frankie found himself first, mumbling, dropping his gaze and turning away.  

He hurried away down the alley, his cock still throbbing.

Even after marching three blocks it’s uncomfortably thick in his jeans. A door opened, loud music spilling out, a glimpse of a packed bar. 

He nearly got written up when he arrived back late at the base in the early hours of the next morning, the smell of sex still clinging to his skin, uncomfortable scratches down his back from sharp acrylic nails. If Santiago saw the marks in the shower later that day, he didn’t say anything, and Frankie offered no explanation. 

The silence stretched between them, a shift in their friendship. 

It’s hard to not become loyal to those who stand by you when shit hits the fan. Long hard hours of military training ties you to the man standing next to you, holding you up, holding him up, dragging his dead weight through the mud, leaning on his shoulder when your ankle gives out. 

They stayed in touch at first, the odd e-mail, more frequent texts, then long periods of silence when both were out of the country, a broken promise to meet up when next stateside. Frankie lost track, tried dating a string of women, and men, difficult at the best of times when your profession requires you to spend months overseas, for him it seemed impossible. At best it was a couple of weeks of dinner dates and awkward sex that never seemed to get past the fumbling stage, at worst he bailed as soon as he could, leaving right after the act was done. 

But the call to join Delta Force put them in the same room again, a few years later, both experienced Rangers by then. Frankie would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he felt the pull of Santiago’s eyes on him when their new commanding officer introduced them, a new group of recruits to serve under Tom Redfly Davis. When introductions were over, Santiago pulled him into a bear hug with a big smile. It was good to see him again. 

A few months later, the adrenaline surged through his veins like a heady drug after the events of the day, their first operation, working together like a team. It went off without a hitch, and spirits were high when they’d been extracted. Santiago clapped him on the back, and Frankie pulled him into a headlock, both laughing at the sheer feeling of being alive. The rest of their unit celebrated, loud whoops echoing through the hold of the aircraft, even Redfly cracking a smile and thumping Santiago on the shoulder. 

But not all missions go off without a hitch, despite meticulous planning, some detail can always fail and sometimes men are lost. Deep in the heart of very hostile territory, Frankie found himself cut off from his team. The only option was to head for the nearest safe house and wait until morning and a possible extract. 

His heart pounded, adrenaline making the blood rush in his ears. He’d lost Santiago, he was sure of it. Someone got cold feet, a detail was missed, he’s not sure what. All he knew was that an explosion rocked the street at the wrong time and Santiago disappeared in a flash of flames and debris and then bullets flew, forcing him down on his knees behind a car. Redfly yelled ‘Retreat!’ over the radio, acrid smoke making vision impossible, he’d stumbled back, losing sight of Santiago, tried to go back, but the order from Redfly came again.

“Move out! Retreat! Retreat!”

He had to run, nearly fell down a steep hill, found his footing and gasped for air, forcing the panic under control, recalling his training. But his training couldn't help him forget Santiago’s face, that flash of realization that something was wrong, and then the explosion that obscured him. 

He shut the door tight behind him, slid the deadbolt in place, breathing hard, and whipped around when he heard the footsteps.  

“Fuck, Fish, you scared the shit out of me.” 

Santiago lowered his gun and stepped out of the shadows, relief thick in his voice as Frankie grunted in surprise. With a few short steps he was on him, pulling him into a hug. He could feel Santiago’s hands grabbing his shoulder, cupping his head and pressing a kiss to his cheek. And maybe it was because he’d thought Santiago was already dead, or maybe it was the adrenaline that still made him vibrate, but he pulled back just a fraction, grabbing Santiago’s face, feeling the rough stubble under his palms, and stared at his dark eyes. 

“Frankie…?”

Santiago’s question came out low and hesitant. 

“How the fuck are you still alive?!” 

Frankie almost shook him, relief flooding his body, as he saw Santiago draw a deep breath, wetting his chapped lips with a swipe of his tongue. 

“I got knocked on my ass, my ears are still ringing, but ht-” 

“I thought you were fucking dead! Redfly called retreat, I thought I fucking lost you!”

Frankie shoved him against the wall, but didn't let go, and Santiago still held his shoulder, pulling him with him as stumbled back. 

Afterwards he thinks it was Santiago who kissed him first, he’s not sure, all he knows is that he went from staring at the way that pink tongue swiped again over Santiago’s dry lips to feeling them pressed against his own, a vague taste of blood as their tongues met.

Santiago smelled of smoke, sweat and expensive aftershave, a familiar scent. Frankie knew it so well, it’s stayed with him since they shared quarters in basic training, every hug, every combat training, every time they’ve sat squeezed together in the back of a truck, at a bar, or just squatted down behind some car, waiting for orders, always that scent that’s Santiago. Frankie thinks he could pick it out anywhere and now it was in his nose, on his skin as Santiago pressed more kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his neck. 

It’s frantic, a release, adrenaline needing to go somewhere, and Frankie let his hands grab at Santiago’s body, explored him, memorized hard muscles and soft swells. He’d thought he was gone, and now he made up for it by touching him, letting himself explore while Santiago groaned softly, his mouth pressed against Frankie’s neck. Santiago felt Frankie’s erection pressed against his belly, and he sought it out, closed his hand around it as best he could through the combat fatigues. 

Frankie growled, tugging at his own clothes as he kissed Santiago’s mouth, making him open it for him so that he could taste more. Rough hands close around his cock, calloused, and his hips jolted at the first, dry, stroke. 

“Fuck…” he gasped into Santiago’s mouth, “fuck…” 

Later, when they were safe and on their way back home, snapshots of images, a sharp focus in his mind; Santiago sinking to his knees, the rough metal wall of the shack, a slick, pink mouth closing around his aching hard on as his own fingers gripped thick black curls. Santiago’s hand closing around his own cock and the sounds he made as he spilled all over the dirt floor. Frankie pumping his hips, his cock deep in the other man’s mouth. The frantic pull apart as there was a knock on the door, the agreed upon signal for their extract. He could still see how Santiago wiped his mouth, licking the last of Frankie’s cum from his lips with a grin, as Redfly opened the door. 

He got hard again just thinking about it, shifted on the uncomfortable seat and tried to will it away. He jerked off as soon as he could, biting his lips to stay silent in the communal toilet. 

What it is, what this is, he doesn’t know. 

There wasn't much opportunity to explore what happened afterwards. And Frankie wasn't even sure he knows what happened. Santiago is one of his best friends, a brother in all but name, but Frankie knows there’s always been an underlying thrum of something, a pull that they acted on that night outside the bar. There’s just never been a time or a place to figure it out and in the aftermath of the disastrous mission, it was all instinct, release and relief to find each other alive. Now, they’re surrounded by the army twenty-four-seven, the non-existent privacy, drills, planning, new missions, deployment, stateside leave that never seems to match. 

But Santiago did grab Frankie one night, a quick encounter, cliche as it sounds; a stolen moment. They were on another reconnaissance mission, they’d marked their target, handed him over to Ironhead and Redfly, and started heading back to their temporary lodgings. The city was quiet, dark and damp in the early hours of a Tuesday in January. 

There was no preamble, no question or lead up. One second Frankie was walking next to Santiago, glancing around to make sure everything was under control, the next he was up against a wall, a narrow alley closing above them and Santiago’s lips on his. Frankie grunted in surprise, Santiago’s tongue meeting his own as he felt warm hands cup his cheeks, the back of his head, a thumb dragging across his patchy beard. His arms hung useless along his body, too surprised to be of use. Not until Santiago mumbled something unintelligible against his lips did he wake from his stupor and grab hold of the other man, his hands tugging at the thick winter jacket. 

The kiss was over in a few short heart beats, Santiago pulling back and looking at Frankie’s wide eyes. 

“Say something, Francisco,” he urged, his hands still cupping Frankie's’ face. 

Francisco

Only his mother and his abuela called him that. And Santiago. But only when no one else was around. It was never “Catfish” or “Frank” with him when they were alone and not on active duty.  

Francisco

Like he kept the name for special occasions only. 

“Francisco…” Santiago urged again, softer this time, his thumbs caressing the scruffy cheeks, “When we’re done with this shit, can we try?” 

Frankie nodded, stunned. Suddenly pieces fell into place, plans clicked.

“Yeah, let’s try,” he mumbled, taking a tighter hold on Santiago’s jacket. 

In the end, all of them, the whole team, left at the same time, but the events leading up to it were chaotic. Another mission, somewhere in a country with warring factions and a corrupt government, the team were supposed to regroup to be extracted. But Santiago and another man hadn’t returned on time and Frankie gripped the throttle of the chopper and anxiously scanned the surroundings, dark, oppressive. The team he’d been sent to retrieve were waiting just outside, rifles aimed at the trees as the minutes ticked by. 

“All I know is some men showed up, locals I think, but they were armed. It was a fucking mess…” 

Benny, the youngest of the team, was the only one who’d made it back. Cut off from the other two, he’d hobbled to the rendezvous point with a deep gash in this thigh from a stray bullet. Even with his patched up leg, he was kneeling inside the chopper, keeping watch with the others. 

“Five more minutes, then we’re going after them,” Redfly ordered, “We’re not leaving anyone behind, not here.” 

“Catfish!” he called back to Frankie in the cockpit, “Keep the radio open, and be ready to fly. If we find them, we need a quick exit and we’ll probably be coming in hot.” 

“Roger that,” he replied and began to go through the chopper's pre-flight checks again. He’s already done it twice, but the routine focused his mind, kept him alert. 

It was touch and go, just as Redfly’s five minutes were up, gunshots were heard in the distance. Santiago came crashing through the trees, followed by Ironhead, bullets zipped past and pinged when they hit the chopper. Frankie had already got the rotors running, Redfly and Benny yelled at the men to run faster while they provided covering fire. They threw themselves into the hold and Redfly shouted at Frankie to take off. He did, swooping the chopper up fast and steep, tilting to avoid enemy fire. 

The adrenaline stayed in his bloodstream the whole flight back to base, only fizzling out once debrief was done and he hit the shower. He felt exhausted when he finally made his way down to the mess. 

“Thanks for pulling us out, Frank.” 

Santiago’s voice sounded as tired as he felt and it took Frankie a moment to spot the man, sitting on a supply crate, leaning against the wall. Frankie detoured and joined the other man on the crate and accepted the cigarette he’s offered. 

“Redfly was gonna come for you, he was just getting ready to-,” Frankie replied, but Santiago cut him off. 

“I’m out,” he said, “And you should leave too.” 

“What do you mean ‘out’?”

“As in ‘out of the army’, I’ve got a contact lined up for a private security gig. Fuck risking my life for nickles and dimes any more, I’m leaving. And I can take you with me, there’s always room for a good pilot.” 

Someone coughed nearby, both men snapped their heads up as one of the commanding officers ambled over, slumping down on the supply crate. 

“Fucking hairy today, glad you guys pulled through.” he said as he held out his hand for Santiago’s cigarette and took a drag, “Don’t get too drunk tonight though, 06:00 briefing, orders just came through.” 

He pushed to his feet and left, returning their halfhearted salutes. 

Nothing more was said that night. But Santiago handed in his papers soon after, then Ironhead and Benny. Redfly and Catfish were the last to leave, wrapping up their time in the military. 

Frankie got injured on his last mission, a broken ankle from a bad landing. He got stuck in a hospital outside Tampa and Santiago sent a text from a blocked number, explaining that he was overseas but would get in touch when he was stateside again. A month passed, they exchanged messages, always promising to meet up, to hang out with the guys as soon as he was back. Frankie’s ankle healed, Santiago got more vague about what he was working on, something in South America with the local law enforcement, consulting for them. More time passed, slowly they moved back into civilian life, all with their own challenges. Frankie began helping Benny with his training, the younger man had decided that MMA fighting was a good way to utilize his physique and skill from the army. Personally, Frankie through he was fucking nuts to voluntarily get his ass kicked, but he had to admit, the kid had a certain talent for bouncing back up and taking down his opponent. 

Three years passed, and Santiago stayed away. Frankie missed him, they were brothers, they’d been through hell and back and saved each other's lives more than once. But as he continued to struggle with his own issues, weed replacing alcohol to numb some of the anxiety and restlessness, then cocaine, he grew more resentful of Santiago. There was no trying, no reconnecting once they were out of the stifling bubble of the army. Santiago had always been the one to make the first move, always pushing Frankie until he snapped. And now Frankie needed his friend to push him again, to get him out of this fucking track that he’d slipped into, dating someone who wasn’t right, a baby suddenly in his life, and a failed piss test at work. He was at a low point, the one thing keeping him from falling apart was the soft bundle of brown curls and dark eyes that welcomed him home every evening, his son smiling up at him from his crib. That little boy only loved him, didn’t know anything about all the shit he’d done. He’d grow up and find out at some point, but until then, Frankie poured all his love and affection onto that little bundle.

The next time the five of them crossed paths was at one of Benny’s matches. Santiago was finally back in the country but whatever tension had simmered between them had faded as the messages did. Still, Frankie felt that familiar pull, a friction, that made him smack Santiago and then let himself get pulled into a tight hug. it was good to see him, even though he came back with a hair brain plan to rob a drug lord. Frankie knew he was being manipulated by a master, Santiago could always talk anyone into doing almost anything, but still he said yes. Mainly because of what the seventeen thousand dollar fee would mean to his little boy’s life. 

Then things went from bad to worse, because of course robbing a drug lord won’t go off without a hitch. They all fell under the spell of all the money they'd managed to get from the drug lord’s house, a big heaping pile taunting them on the runway as they made their escape. Frankie knew, he fucking knew, they’d be overloaded, that it was too much weight for the helo to get across the tall mountain range to get to the ocean and the boat that was waiting for them. But Redfly insisted, and Frankie was just as tempted, all that money, such an easy life for himself and his son. So he said ok, we'll make it. 

And then they crashed. 

The rest was a frantic scramble, adrenaline surging through his system, still woozy after being knocked out in the crash and Benny pulling him out from the wreckage. The villagers where they’d crashed coming for the money, he’d opened fire too quickly, people had died. More bodies to add to his tally. 

And then walking for days through the jungle, wet and muddy, up over the freezing cold mountains and craggy, unforgiving terrain. When the disaster hit, that fucking kid from the village, he’d been struck numb, sinking down against the rock as Benny shook Redfly’s lifeless body. In an instance the whole fucking, stupid mission was pointless. The money worthless, their captain dead and all that mattered was getting his body back to his family. Santiago insisted on dragging the money, down that fucking mountain range, until Ironhead talked sense into him, convincing him to leave the it behind. A backpack each filled with money was all they walked away with and in the end, they left it all to Redfly’s family. It was the right thing to do. 

Frankie regretted it almost the second he signed the paper. He needed that money too, for his own small family, for his boy. Not that it would’ve made any difference to his girlfriend though, his shit was on the porch when he got back home. She was fed up with him and threw him out. He felt he probably deserved it. But at least the money could’ve given his boy a better start in life, now all he had to offer was himself and he sure as shit wasn’t much. 

He managed to sublet a studio apartment fairly close to his old house. It was a dump in a nice neighborhood and what he could, barely, afford. But it let him stay close to his son, that was his one goal, to at least be a part of his life in any way he could. His pilot’s license was still under review, he was taking odd jobs as a mechanic to make rent and then coming home to an empty space, sad freezer meals because he couldn’t afford take out, but at least he got to see his baby on the weekends. 

His life turned bleak after Columbia, his only life line was seeing his boy, and sometimes hanging out with Benny. Santiago was off somewhere, Ironhead toured the country, still giving those motivational speeches. How he managed after what had happened, Frankie would never understand. He joined Frankie and Benny when he could, but all three men were working through their own shit and hanging out wasn’t as easy as before, but they all seemed to need it. Frankie realized he and Benny mostly played pool and discussed the strategies for Benny’s matches. But maybe that was enough, just to keep a float for now. 

A year passed, and another, and there was no word from Santiago. It was coming up to Thanksgiving, a weekend the Miller brothers and Frankie had taken to spending together. Not so much celebrating as just hanging out to keep from being alone, from traveling cross country and fielding questions from well meaning family. It was easier to just fix burgers on the barbecue in Will’s backyard and drink beer while the mild Florida autumn night crept in and silence settled around them. 

But this Thanksgiving there was the sudden rap of knuckles against the side of the house. When the three men turned around, Santiago raised his hand in greeting, a six pack of beers in his other, strolling across the lawn as if he’d just arrived back from a short trip to the store for more drinks. 

Benny howled, a big grin on his face as he pounced on Santiago, squeezing him in half as the older man protested, laughing. Will smiled and clapped Santiago on the back, hugs exchanged. Frankie pushed back a sudden flash of resentment, swallowed it down, and dropped the spatula he’d been holding. Santiago grabbed him and pulled him in for a tight hug, cupping the back of his head as he placed a firm kiss on Frankie’s cheek. 

“Good to see you, Francisco,” he mumbled as Frankie felt heat creep up his neck. 

“You too,” he replied, “welcome back.” He pulled away a little, took a step back and prodded the burgers, giving his friend a crooked smile. Santiago raised an eyebrow at him, a questioning look and Frankie dropped his eyes, poking the burger patty again. He’d put Santiago out of his mind while he was gone, but whenever he returned…he was happy to see him, sure, but…there was that underlying current that made him both uncomfortable and…he squeezed the thought to the back of his mind but his dick, his pretty cock, knew exactly what was on his mind. 

“So fucking good to see you, Pope,” Benny grinned, “It’s been a minute, man!” 

“What brought you back?” Will asked as Benny handed Santiago a beer and sank down in one of the lawn chairs. 

Santiago shrugged and glanced at Frankie who was still prodding the burgers like they needed correcting. 

“Last minute change of plans, a contact fell through, things got a bit hotter than expected so we had to pull out and I flew back here on a whim.” 

“So you thought you’d show up and mooch off us for the holidays, huh?” Benny chuckled and Santiago laughed, playfully punching Benny’s shoulder. 

“You know Will makes the best burgers, how could I resist? But now I see Fish on the barbecue and it’s making me nervous,” he flashed a grin at Frankie who swiftly flipped him off, but he was smiling too. They all were, one of them away always felt like a limb missing, more so than ever after Tom’s death. To have Santiago back made them all relax, smile a little bit easier, even if Frankie felt nerves creep up his back that he hadn’t felt in years. 

The evening passed with burgers and more beer. Will got the fire pit going and Benny insisted on making smores, forcing everyone else to ‘get in on the fun’ until they were all sticky fingered and full on marshmallows and chocolate. Frankie could feel it sticking to his patchy beard and teeth as he swiveled beer around his mouth to get it all out. Santiago was laughing at him from across the fire, wide grin, his arm around Benny’s shoulders as they swayed to the music playing from the speakers by their feet. Frankie grinned back at him, a little bit tipsy, warmed by the fire and by the way Santiago’s dark eyes seemed to be drifting back to him throughout the night. He was always the one pushing until Frankie snapped, and tonight Frankie wanted to snap. 

“Alright, that’s enough for me,” Will eventually said, as the embers of the fire pit glowed cherry red in the dark and the pile of firewood had dwindled to nothing, “You got a place to crash, Pope?” 

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks man,” Santiago replied, “Fish, wanna give me a ride? I’m too fucked to drive.” 

Frankie nodded, pushing to his feet. He felt good, his cheeks ached from laughing, his skin was flushed, and the cool night breeze was a welcome touch as he stepped away from the fire pit. Benny gave him a rib crushing hug and stumbled towards the house, by far the drunkest of the four of them, but Frankie knew he’d be the one feeling fine the next morning, age hadn’t caught up with him yet. 

Will clapped him on the back, hugged Santiago and sent them on their way, locking up behind them as Frankie unlocked his truck and Santiago climbed into the passenger's seat. 

“Where to?” Frankie asked as the engine rumbled to life and Santiago gave a little chuckle. 

“I lied to Will,” he said, smiling as he looked over at Frankie’s raised eyebrows, “I don’t have anywhere to stay, my bags are in a locker at the bus station, I was hoping you’d offer me your couch, Francisco.” 

Heat flooded Frankie’s body for real this time, making his toes and fingertips tingle in a way that had nothing to do with the three beers he’d drunk. It burned his neck, his chest and made his jeans feel tight as Santiago continued to smile at him like the pieces of his master plan were falling into place. 

“Yeah…sure…” Frankie mumbled, “But my place is small, I couldn’t afford much after she kicked me out and still stay in the neighborhood.” 

“I’m sorry about the whole break up,” Santiago said, reaching out and squeezing Frankie’s shoulder briefly, just a friendly touch to comfort him, “Will told me, I wish I could’ve helped you out.” 

“My mess, my shit to deal with,” Frankie replied and pulled out of the drive, “I could afford something bigger but then I’d have to be further away from my kid and I just couldn’t do that. He’s so small, if I don’t see him regularly, he’s gonna forget me and I want him to want to stay with me when he’s older and I’ve got my pilot license back.” 

“How’s that going?” 

“It’s going good, my probation is almost up and then I have to complete a trial period at a flight school, still doing piss tests too,” Frankie said, he was proud of how far he’d come with the help of NA, and Santiago could tell, nodding as he listened to Frankie. 

“That’s good to hear, man, really great!” he smiled and squeezed Frankie’s shoulder again. This time he let his hand rest a little bit longer, the warmth of it seeping through the t-shirt until Frankie could feel Santiago’s imprint burning his skin.

“Yeah...yeah, it’s been rough, but I kinda got my shit together after she threw me out, at least in that respect. Everything else…” 

Frankie trailed off and shook his head before he continued, “Shit’s been bleak after Tom, for all of us. Tonight was the first time it felt…good, lighter.” 

“I know what you mean,” Santiago nodded, “It was great coming back, I didn’t know how much I needed to just hang out with you guys,” he gave Frankie’s shoulder another squeeze and dropped his hand to his leg, “I didn’t have any plans when we had to abort the operation but…coming back felt like the right thing to do.” 

When they pulled up to Frankie’s new place, Santiago didn’t say anything, but Frankie felt uncomfortable about how run down it was. The rest of the neighborhood had gentrified and been filled with renovated properties, mostly small family homes with well tended gardens and picket fences. The three storey apartment block he was in was on the outskirts, on a corner, with crumbling facade, AC units hanging from most windows and a neglected courtyard with an empty pool.

He led them across the courtyard and up the stairs to his small corner unit. It was just one room, a galley kitchen and a small bathroom, with a dangerous looking balcony facing the courtyard. Frankie dropped the keys in a bowl on the counter as Santiago followed him inside. 

“I warned you, it’s ain’t much,” Frankie mumbled as Santiago sank down on the couch. 

“It’s enough, Francisco,” he smiled, “Better than some of the shit holes we’ve slept in for sure.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Frankie shrugged, not sure where to stand or what to do now that Santiago was sitting on his couch with that easy confidence he always seemed to have. Leaning back, legs spread as he hung an arm along the back of the couch and tilted his head to look up at Frankie, a small smirk curving his mouth.  

Santiago’s words from years back, the last time they acknowledged what had always simmered between them, his let’s try, hung at the forefront of Frankie’s mind. He wondered if Santiago still wanted that or had he moved on? Frankie knew he hadn’t. He thought he had but tonight had made him realize that even though he’d thought he’d moved on, girlfriend, house, baby, it never would’ve lasted had Santiago come back sooner. And now that he was back, Frankie had no barriers, nothing stopping him from acknowledging to himself that this was what he’d been waiting for. He didn’t need Santiago to push him anymore tonight, he was going to take those steps freely. He just hoped Santiago was in the same place. 

“What’s on your mind, Francisco?” 

The other man’s low voice snapped Frankie from his thoughts, and he took a step forward. Santiago was still smiling, like he knew what was on Frankie’s mind, but was waiting for him to get to it. Frankie took another step forward and leaned forward, putting his hands on Santiago’s shoulders and pushing him back. Santiago’s eyebrows shot up, but his grin widened as he let himself settle against the couch, his hands falling to this thighs. Frankie squeezed the hard muscles under the shirt, feeling the warmth radiating from the other man, that familiar cologne in his nose, and hesitated for a second before he exhaled a long breath and leaned in closer.

Santiago's hands left his legs and rested on Frankie's hips, guiding him in, as Frankie pressed a first slow kiss to his mouth, warm and careful, a low hum escaping him as he felt Frankie part his lips.

Compared to all the other times, it was slow and careful, not a snap decision, no frantic press. Santiago let Frankie take the lead, slipping down further on the couch as Frankie moved. His hand cupped around the back of Frankie's head, adding just a hint of pressure, reassuring him that this was mutual. This slow, exploratory, kiss was as welcome as it had always been in the past, even though years had passed.

Frankie sighed into Santiago's mouth when he felt his friend respond, tongues exploring as they tasted each other, Santiago's fingers grounding him the way they wrapped around his curls, tightening their hold and keeping him close, he wasn't letting him leave this time.

If their previous encounters had been rushed affairs, fueled by a desperate lust or just pure adrenaline, this was the opposite. A languid affair, mouths and hands exploring slowly, clothes dropping to the floor when they got in the way, low moans when someone found a spot that craved extra attention, an extra lick or kiss.

Frankie felt almost lightheaded, his hands trying to feel as much as he could, pushing Santiago down, spreading him out, finding every sliver of soft skin with his mouth until the other man was panting and whimpering under him. Santiago cursed softly at the soft torture Frankie put him through, his mouth leaving warm, wet, trail across his him, every inch of his body marked and explored. When Frankie finally made a slow path to where Santiago needed him most, he could only moan, small beads of sweat pearling at his temples as Frankie sunk his mouth over him.

"Francisco…Francisco…"

To Frankie the sound of his name whimpered by Santiago was like nothing he'd ever experienced. His arousal spiked, his fingers digging into Santiago's thighs, holding him open, taking him deeper, swallowing down every drop when the other man's body arched up in a taut bow, every fiber tight as his high washed over him.

When Santiago came down, his body limp under Frankie's, his hands slowly caressing through his damp curls, Frankie realized he'd spilled into the his couch, rutting into the pillows, seeking friction. He chuckled, resting his head against Santiago's thigh as Santiago cupped his cheek, dragging his thumb over his swollen lips.

"You got me horny like a teenager," Frankie said, "I blew my load already, need to clean up the couch."

Santiago laughed, still a little breathless, his hand tugging on Frankie's curls to make him crawl back up.

"And here I was looking forward to repaying the favor, Francisco," he replied, shifting on the narrow couch. Frankie squeezed down on his side, pressing his tall frame against Santiago, "Denying me the pleasure of that pretty cock again."

His grin was wide now, pulling Frankie closer over him, hooking a leg over his hip, seeking out his mouth for more kisses, his hands beginning to explore Frankie's body again, soon closing around his friend's pretty cock.

Rolling over onto his back, Frankie sighed deeply and let Santiago take control again, his turn to sink his fingers deep into the thick dark curls.

Eventually they got far enough to pull the couch out to it's bed shape. Santiago climbed on top of Frankie, caging him in under his shoulders as he leaned down bump their foreheads together. He was so close that all Frankie could see was the blur of his dark eyes, he closed his own and inhaled deeply, the smell of sweat and sex filling his nose. He could feel marks on his body, Santiago's mouth, teeth and fingers leaving little reminders of the past few hours, and that syrupy, heavy feeling of endorphins filling his brain. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Santiago's shoulders, pulling him down closer.

Santiago smiled to himself and kissed Frankie's pouty bottom lip, nipping at it with a quiet giggle until Frankie snorted and pushed him off. He rolled over onto his side and tugged the covers over them both.

"This place really is a dump, Francisco," he said, glancing around the room as Frankie reached out to turn off the light.

"Yeah, thanks for pointing it out," he replied, "I'm broke and still under review, remember."

"Well, I'm not," Santiago said, "Tomorrow we're gonna find a house to rent near your kid, and then you're moving out of here."

"You're renting me a house?" Frankie asked, and he couldn't keep the mocking tone out of his voice. It earned him a light slap to the shoulder from Santiago who rolled his eyes in the semi-dark room.

"No, pendejo, I'm renting a house for us, I'm living there too. I'm gonna keep that pretty cock of yours under lock and key, make an honest man out of us both. Should've done it fucking years ago."

Frankie swallowed, a thick lump in his throat as he tried to read Santiago's face. He was smiling back at him, the faint light of the street light making his eyes glint.

"Only if you want too, but I'm thinking you might have the same thoughts I have?"

"You're serious?" Frankie asked, his old insecurities creeping up his spine, "You're-"

Santiago cut him off, pushing him down into the bed and kissing him hard enough to bruise his lips, his calloused hands cupping his face.

Frankie grunted in surprise, and gasped as Santiago pulled back an inch.

"Yes, I'm fucking sure, Francisco. I've always been fucking sure."

He paused for a beat, looking down at his friend, Francisco, the one person who had always been at his side, who'd always been there even when Santiago wasn't.

"But are you sure, Francisco?"

Frankie reached up and cupped the back of Santiago's head, nodding as their breathes mingled, coming together, lips brushing in a short kiss. The panic was subsiding, the warm feeling returning to his limbs as he smiled up at Santiago, his reply soft and steady.

"I'm sure."

Thank you all for reading, especially if you don't usually read m/m fics. I hope you enjoyed it and if you're a writer, maybe it inspired you to challenge yourself to explore a new dynamic. ❤️

[lgbtpopcult]

Best WLW News Stories of 2023

Meet South Korea’s first lesbian couple to have a child

[gottagobackintime]

Me anytime I see a character played by Noah Wyle*

*except for Daniel Calder because he’s canonically gay

[marvelsgirl616]

☀️ — obx cast || buzzfeed thirst tweets

[umathurwin]

NO ONE GETS KIARAH LIKE I DO

PROVE IT ‼️

[gaykarstaagforever]

BI: Millenial with $1.2 million in school loan debt hasn't been able to find a job since they were born; "I guess they don't give out avocado toast participation trophies for majoring in Woke Studies!"

Then you read it and find out this idiot is specifically mad they haven't been offered a managerial job at Google yet, and "do contract work" and trade in crypto from a Manhattan apartment with $8,000 a month rent.

"I only brought in $15,000 last month and don't own a car or have children- what is Kamala Harris going to do to help us working poor?"

The only reason I'm sure these aren't written from AI prompts some GenXer is pumping out from the beach in East Hampton is because ChatGPT would at least be aware of the median salary of 38 yos in the US.

I love BI. It is nearly as fascinating a look into the minds of clueless rich people as LuxuryLaunches.

Speaking of, the US State Department randomly decided to drop sanctions against the Flying Fox, a "megayacht" co-owned by a shadowy Russian oligarch. Now you too can experience a real taste of rented luxury for $4 million a week.

[sword-and-lance]

partly related but man it is A Slog going through the tags like 90% of the time

[steblynkaagain]

conclave book is so funny fr you never expect the protag of a book about the Pope election to be suicidal, bi, have ED, and implied to have dysphoria. what a fucking character. The movie protag was having it pretty bad already.

[lgbtpopcult]

Pope Francis Considers Blessings for Same-Sex Couples, Vatican Letter Reveals | National Review

[halfway-happyyy]

2025 masterlist ✨️

i do not give permission for any of my works or their included components to be copied, translated and or/reposted.

*i don't specify the age gap in my writing, but in my mind, reader is in her 30s.

currently writing for:

jon bernthal characters: frank castle, braxton wolff

shawn hatosy characters: andrew 'pope' cody (animal kingdom), jack abbot (the pitt)

requests are open and encouraged 💖

home to you (oneshot) - jack abbot x reader

late night hospital meet-cute (drabble) - jack abbot x reader

a note on mornings (drabble) - jack abbot x reader

jack takes care of your sunburn (drabble) - jack abbot x reader

stargazing with pope cody (drabble) - pope cody x reader

lovin' on pope's freckles (drabble) - pope cody x reader

cockwarming with pope (18+) - pope cody x reader

Frank Castle x reader:

it'll all work out (oneshot)- Matt Murdock x reader, Frank Castle x reader

a million mornings (drabble)

an attentive scorpio lover (drabble)

more attentive lover drabble

frank takes a bath with you (drabble)

salvation (oneshot) (18+)

old soul lover (drabble)

frank has a nightmare (drabble)

frank removes your makeup (drabble)

frank lays it all out on the line for you (drabble)

frank takes you to a wedding (drabble)

grumpy !boyfriend frank (drabble)

the aftermath of a fight with frank (drabble)

frank talking you through it (drabble) (18+)

fumbled, sleepy morning sex (drabble)

frank takes his girl on a scar tour (drabble)

Achilles' Heel (series) (18+)

the sunshine and the storm (drabble)

roadtrip HC's with frank

cutting frank's hair and beard (drabble)

more frank talking you through it (drabble) (18+)

period sex with frank (drabble) (18+)

soft frank things

frank with a kitten hc's

frank introduces his girl to his blind lawyer (drabble)

more cat-daddy drabbles

wasted on each other (oneshot) (18+)

reader adopts franks mannerisms (drabble)

washing frank's hair (soft drabble)

frank catches you watching punisher thirst traps (drabble)

overstimulating frank (drabble) (18+)

loves notes in frank's lunches (drabble)

asking frank for a dick pic (drabble) (18+)

fall with me (oneshot) (fluff)

frank with a girlfriend who tinkers/makes gadgets (drabble)

!boyfriend frank with reader who's going through a depressive episode (drabble)

thinking about frank's lap (drabble)

frank and his diner girl (drabble)

more soft scar drabble

reader comes out to frank as bi (drabble)

frank with a reader who needs music to sleep (drabble)

nsfw hc's - (18+)

sunday morning vignettes - (18+)

Michael Kinsella x reader (KIN 2021)

will you think of me later? (oneshot) - Mikey Kinsella x reader

Michael (Mikey) Berzatto (The Bear 2022-)

My Sun, My Moon, and All of My Stars (oneshot)

Braxton Wolff (The Accountant 2016 / The Accountant 2025)

reader indulges brax's oral fixation (18+)

[conclaveconfessions]

Totally about Lomeli being bi, the context is undeniably sexual. I do agree it's a bit stacked on, but also is the intersexual pope in the last pages. Yeah there were hints but you could say the hints about Benítez are also the hints about Lomeli being bisexual. There's a sensual verve in describing him. I understand this is subjective but I don't mean anything explicitly by it, it's just that the narrative voice calls attention to some character's physical attractiveness, in a way that puts Lomeli in evidence. Put side by side how Lomeli sees Vincent vs Agnes and it hits pretty the same (youthful body vs indomitable blue eyes). He's just more explicit with Agnes because she's a woman, but in the innuendo, I think Vincent hits hornier. Actually I posted that section where he wonders about Benítez' ink like hair in my status and a guy friend asked me if I was reading a fanfic lol. And this also happens with Adeyemi (the cologne, the breath on his neck..., this is chapter one). And it's not a writer's tic, other characters don't get this treatment (Tremblay doesn't, Tedesco is described unappealing). The author is trying to say something, and he's not spelling it out, but he also doesn't want to leave it implied, but also the elderly cardinal is not gonna call himself bisexual. How else is a character this religious going to say such a thing? This novel is definitely not perfect xd but it makes sense that Lomeli is bisexual, it both enhances the themes of the book and it makes easier to portray and at the same time ignore the hints about Benítez... And also it's hot.

~

[marvelsgirl616]

<3