#big day for annoying gays (me)

[nerdy-frog98]

Okay I’ve had several days to think about it, and I’m not upset about Eddie’s cheating storyline anymore.

Nobody asked, but HERE’S why.

Eddie is an incredibly traumatized character. The military experiences (+ his dead friends), losing his wife so suddenly & without closure, and a couple near death experiences will do that to you! Add that to parents trying to take his child away ON TOP OF feeling like he needs to give Christopher a mother at any and all costs…? Maybe a little bit of Catholic guilt sprinkled in there too.

Season 5 was not my favorite for a myriad of reasons, but one thing I did like about it was Eddie’s complete mental breakdown. It felt like a long time coming... BUT. His mental breakdown didn’t even really scratch the surface of his issues, and there are still a lot of things he needs to face before he can truly be at peace. One of those things is Shannon.

The effect that Shannon’s loss had on Eddie has, in my opinion, never been explored properly. We got a little of it in season 3 with the illegal fighting, and then hints of it again when he was with Ana, but it never felt like closure to me. It felt like season 6 tried to give him closure (through Marisol), but it wasn’t satisfying because it was more or less a duller version of what happened with Ana. “Moving on” for his sake, but with no real emotional repercussions. Maybe this is just a personal opinion, but his story has felt like a ticking time bomb to me since the moment he broke up with Ana. His breakdown in s5 wasn’t the real bomb though.

Now imagine being Eddie, a guy with a lot of unresolved guilt and feelings for a woman who died right in front of him. Imagine you see a woman with that dead wife’s exact face. I can honestly say I have no fucking clue what I would do in his position. What he did- erasing Marisol in his first conversation with this lookalike Kim, then later lying to Buck to meet up with Kim- is morally not okay. Sure. Would any of us act in a rational way though?

I’m not meaning to justify cheating, but I do genuinely believe this is one of the only ways that stubborn ass was going to figure out his issues in a way that might actually help him move on. He’s being delusional with Kim, and once the ball drops, I believe there’s a great big breakdown waiting for him on the other end.

People often accuse Eddie of being the most boring of the 118, and I hate that assessment so goddamn much. Eddie is probably one of theee most complex characters (besides Buck) in the entire show. He’s self-destructive, kind, loyal, patient and impatient- he’s a good father and a good friend, and he’s FLAWED. That is why I love him so much.

My initial disappointment with him partially stems from me wanting him to have a singular season of PEACE, which…I realized wasn’t possible without blowing up the bomb first (would’ve preferred to disarm the bomb but I’ll take what I can get).

[aanalytic]

rise and grind!!!!! <- experiencing screaming rage at 5:30am

[whaledocboi]

terrible attack dog son or female manipulator daughter

[queerhoodies]

dead poets society anniversary today so taylor swift played the lakes

[radiaking]

Someone in the literal gayborhood has a t.rump 2024 flag in their window……….

[dashiellqvverty]

the thing about that last post is that thats exactly how it feels explaining why you are so certain that harry styles is gay/bi for real. except its not obama its. well. you know.

[echo-s-land]

Someone told me that he 'like hanging around with me' and he 'love my smile' today

[crowcities]

Congrats to me existing for 22 years now! I made it! 🦅 🎉

[beetlejuce]

yannis being asked who he thinks is the most famous/well known foals fan reminds me of when I found out he and charli xcx are at least aware of each other and I had a Moment. I mean imagine him bumping Vroom Vroom

[the-cimmerians]

It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

[lizardho]

I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was “supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕

[marvelfilth]

Family dinner

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova, platonic!Kate Bishop x f!reader

Warnings: a very poor attempt at humour

Summary: your best friend Kate needs backup after a mishap with Yelena's family

Masterlist

“I need you here yesterday!”

“What?” You whisper-shout, looking around the office to make sure no one noticed you ducking away to take a call from your best friend.

“Please, I'm desperate! I can't do this alone, they're like sharks and I just spilled blood!”

“Kate, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Yelena's family! They're scary as shit on a good day, but now we messed up real bad, and I think they're gonna decapitate me,” she whines.

“Okay, let's backtrack. What did you do?”

“...”

“Kate?”

There's shuffling on the other side, a deep sigh and then, “Melina found the handcuffs. With the fur. They were still attached to the bed.”

You snort, loud enough to attract annoyed looks from your coworkers. “Happens to the best of-”

“And the whip. It was on the bed too.”

You chortle, this time not caring about your surroundings, and swiftly move further down the hall. “She knows Yelena's a big girl, she can ha-”

“Natasha was there too!”

You stop in your tracks. Now that's interesting.

“She'll never let you forget it,” you say with all the confidence you have, even though you've never met the woman before. You know just enough from what Kate and Yelena told you to be sure of that.

“She's not letting me forget it now! She got all sneaky and secretive, whispering with Melina and looking at me, and now I'm on my way to a family dinner. A family dinner with my girlfriend's family, while said girlfriend got called away on some emergency mission,” she huffs angrily.

“There's no emergency mission, is there?”

“There better be!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. It's never a boring day with Kate Bishop.

“So,” she starts, aiming for a nonchalant tone, “I'm downstairs.”

“What?”

“Yep. Waiting for you at the front. Better hurry, parking is expensive as hell.”

“Kate.”

“I'm your bestie. And my girlfriend's mom found the handcuffs. I need you.”

You check the time, noting that the workday is nowhere near it's end. With a sigh, you head for the elevator, not even bothering to come back for your bag.

“I love you.”

“I haven't agreed to-”

“I know what that sigh means!”

You groan. “Yeah, yeah. You owe me.”

×××

Turns out, Yelena's family is even scarier then you imagined.

“So, Y/n,” Melina starts, looking at you like you're one of her lab rats, “Do you usually leave your… sexual… stuff after you're done?”

You turn red, choking on the wine. Kate sends you a look of pity.

Natasha smirks.

“I don't… I'm not sure- Um. Well, no.”

Melina hums, nodding to herself. “Good.”

She digs into her food, and you exhale in relief, feeling like the worst part is over.

“So where do you keep your stuff, Y/n?” Natasha asks over the rim of her glass, her eyes full of mischief.

Kate slides lower in her seat, boring holes into her fork.

Melina perks up, once again regarding you like one of her subjects. “I would also like to know. To pass the advice to my daughter and her girlfriend.”

You gulp.

“Well?” Natasha prompts.

You shudder from the intensity of the look she's giving you.

“Can we move on?” Kate whispers, looking around nervously.

“Yes, of course,” Melina nods, her eyes lighting up like she was waiting for a subject change.

Natasha sends Kate an amused smile, and you relax slightly. Now the worst part is over, you're sure.

“So, Y/n-”

Fuck.

“-are you single?”

You nod, shoving a forkful of some meat salad - which mostly consists of mayonnaise - to avoid talking.

“And you're gay, correct?” Melina asks, peering into your very soul.

You nod again, chewing fast.

“Why are you gay?”

You choke on a piece of potato, wheezing and reaching for a glass of water. Kate almost falls of her chair in haste to smack you on the back. Natasha just looks at her mother, unimpressed. “Really?”

“What?” Melina shrugs. “I'm a scientist, I'm conducting research.”

The redhead groans, rubbing her eyes. “Of course.”

You feel a little better now that Natasha is annoyed.

Melina still looks at you, expecting an answer.

You sigh, “Are you gay?”

She blinks, looking like an owl. Natasha chokes on a laugh, sending you a look of appreciation. Kate mutters something about bathroom and darts out of the room, hopefully to call Yelena and fix all this mess.

“Well,” Melina starts, deep in thought. “I suppose I've never given it much of a thought.”

You nod, feeling accomplished in swaying attention from yourself.

“Natasha.” The older woman turns abruptly. “You are gay.”

The redhead groans, sliding down in her seat. “Mother, please.”

“She's gay, and you're gay. You're both miserably single.”

“Huh?” You frown, affronted.

“Fuck my life,” Natasha mumbles into the table, her face pressed tight against it in a feeble effort of disappearing.

“Yelena's on her way!” Kate walks back into the room, triumphant.

“Finally,” you sigh, pointedly looking at the ceiling to avoid Melina's penetrative gaze. “Where's she, by the way?”

“Hiding, probably,” Natasha snorts, shaking her head. “Escaped the scene of crime and left her girlfriend to pick up the mess.” She raises her glass in Kate's general direction, “You're doing good so far, Bishop. Even brought reinforcement - good thinking.”

“Yes-yes,” Melina nods, her eyes darting between you three. “Yelena's a bit of a coward in that regard, but we have an important matter to discuss.”

Natasha glares at her mother. “No, we don-”

“Natasha can cook. Well, she can microwave.”

“What did I miss?” Kate frowns, settling back into her seat. “Actually, no. I don't want to know.”

“As I was saying,” Melina clears her throat, paying no mind to the murderous look Natasha sends her. You'd feel gleeful at that - Natasha's plan came back to bite her in the ass - if you weren't the other victim in this scenario. “Natasha can cook. She's excellent with knives. She's an excellent shot. She can dismantle a bomb in a matter of seconds. She's a… a catch.”

You smile at the miserable expression on Natasha's face, her cheeks dusted with pink.

“Oh…” Kate whispers, looking at you from the corner of her eye. “Well, actually, Y/n is-” she yelps loudly when your heel connects with her toes, and turns bright red at the shooting pain. “-a bitch. She's a bitch.”

The look in Melina's eyes turns gleeful. “That was excellent.”

Fucking hell, no matter what you do, your grave turns deeper and deeper.

Natasha snorts, chugging her wine like it's water. Melina's mouth opens again, and you say a stupid thing to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“Can we go back to Kate's handcuffs, please,” you mutter with a sigh.

The look of betrayal your friend sends you doesn't work the way she intended, because you don't feel guilty at all.

Melina's mouth snaps shut, her eyes widening. The sight alone tells you you said the wrong thing.

“Have you and Kate ever-”

“No!” you both shout, before the older woman can finish the question.

“Sounds defensive,” Natasha chuckles, reaching for the bottle of vodka.

“Wha- What?” You hiss, glaring at the spy.

“She's- Y/n’s not even my type! And I'm not her type either!” Kate splutters.

“Mhm,” Natasha hums, “that I can see.”

You gape, not sure if you're supposed to be offended. “What?”

Natasha smirks, planting her chin on her fist. “You need a firm hand. Your best friend is anything, but firm.”

Her eyes trail down your body, pupils darkening ever so slightly. Your cheeks burn and, suddenly, it's hard to breathe. You clear your throat and gulp down the last of your wine, carefully avoiding her gaze.

“O-okay. That's- okay, yep,” Kate mutters to herself. “Fuck my life.”

“Am I wrong?” Natasha husks, reaching across the table to play with the golden bracelet on your wrist.

Really, right in front of her mother?

The front door opens with a loud bang, and you jump up, relieved to see Yelena. The feeling doesn't last long, because a second later you notice the bleeding wound on her torso.

“So that was an actual mission,” you mumble, missing the way Natasha snorts in your haste to get Yelena to the couch.

Kate looks pale, but swiftly starts helping Yelena undress. Melina's ready with the first aid kid by the time they finally tear off the shirt.

“So?” Natasha whispers into your ear, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Am I wrong?”

Apparently, not even her bleeding sister can stop her.

“No,” you reply, “you're not wrong.”

She hums, satisfied. “I am miserably single, you know?"

You let out a loud laugh, not even bothering to quiet down when Yelena sends you a murderous look.

“I am miserably single, too.”

She smiles, nodding to herself.

“Want to fix that?” She asks after a bit, her eyes glinting in the soft evening light.

“They'll never shut up about it,” you groan, stepping closer to her.

“Yeah,” she hums, her grin stretching wider. “So?”

"A little help?" Yelena wheezes, glaring daggers at the two of you. "Hello? Your sister is dying."

“Yes,” you reply, not taking your eyes away from her green pools.

“Perfect,” she breathes, before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I'll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

"Fucking unbelievable," Yelena mutters and yelps when Melina shushes her with a pinch and a hissed "don't ruin my hard work".

Kate just looks like she's about to faint.

You grin. "I can't wait."

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-spooktober day 3: apples | rated: G | wc: 998

“Wow, he’s really good at that.” Robin remarks as Eddie sloshes back up out of the bucket with yet another apple caught in his grin, “Who'da thunk, huh?”

“Yeah…” Steve breathes, watching Eddie’s hair drip down over his forehead and down his neck, “He’s really good with his mouth.”

Robin chokes on her most recent swig of cider, “I’m sorry, what?!”

“Uh…” Steve feels his face turn hot, “Huh? I didn’t say anything.” He moves to turn away back into the Hoppers’ cabin, an excuse of the bathroom or a new mug of cider ready behind his teeth and Robin on his heels

“Oh no you don’t; you explain yourself this instant Steven Marie Harrington!” She demands, voice much louder than he’d like it to be, “What did you just say about Eddie Munson’s mouth??”

“Nothing that anyone—especially the Eddie in question—needs to hear! Quiet down!” He whispers in a harried tone.

He pulls her into Hopper’s tiny bathroom, snapping the door shut behind him.

“You have a crush on Eddie Munson?! Our Eddie Munson?”

Steve leans back against the door and sighs, letting himself sink to the floor. “Still too loud.” he says, not actually meaning it.

She must’ve been able to tell that he’s trying to stall, so she sinks onto the shallow edge of the tub to wait. One of her knees knocks against the bowl of the toilet, the other against the wall.

“I think I have for a little while now. Since spring break at least.” he confesses, now that he’s in the proper position to do so, here on the bathroom floor.

“You found time to get your first crush on a guy since figuring out you’re bi, and it’s during yet another upside-down related catastrophe.” Robin states rather than asks. “You’re something else, Dingus.”

“Gee, thanks for your support.”

“You have it always, obviously,” she waves him off, “Just surprised that the first I’m hearing about it is when your horny lizard brain tells me for you.”

“It’s been getting really annoying lately.”

“What, having a big gay crush on someone? I feel you.”

“No, lizard brain is being really annoying lately. But yeah, also that.”

Steve’s gaze is stuck on the slightly mis-matched piece of linoleum between his feet, but sees Robin nod her head in his periphery.

Neither say anything for a solid 45 seconds, until: “So what are you going to do about it?”

“Something… eventually… maybe…” he hedges, “Just ‘cause he’s into guys too doesn’t mean he’s into me.”

“Oh yeah, of course he isn’t.”

He rolls his eyes at the sarcasm. “I’m being serious Robin.”

“Me too.”

Steve finally looks up at her.

“Don’t give me that look, I’m being serious about my sarcasm, Steven. Of course Eddie’s into you; you saw how he was flirting with you during the whole Vecna fiasco!” Robin flails her arm around in emphasis, “How he’s been flirting with you ever since.”

“What if that’s not just for me though, he’s annoyingly charming to everyone!”

“He may be charming,” She grimaces (“Hey!”), “But that doesn’t mean he’s out here flirting with anyone!”

“He just feels comfortable with me.”

“Everyone our age knows about Eddie, Steve, and he’s still been his same dorky self with all them. You’re the only one he’s been flirting with nonstop.”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but closes it again. 

Damn, she’s got a point.

Eddie never calls Jonathan ‘sweetheart’, or Argyle ‘big boy’... he’s heard him say once that Hopper was his first crush when he’d had one too many drinks, but she’s right.. Eddie’s only flirty with him.

Steve suddenly feels all swoopy inside. And it must show on his face somehow, because Robin says “Ew gross, you’re thinking about him aren’t you?”

“No, I’m thinking about Hopper– of course I’m thinking about him!” Steve grins, then pushes him up off the floor. “Okay, okay, I just have to make it through the rest of the day, and I’ll ask him out tomorrow when he comes in to bother us for a free rental at work.”

He looks down at Robin, searching her face for any sign that it isn’t a good plan.

She nods, “Good. Now where are you going to take him?”

The answer to that one was simple, “Movie date at my place.”

Robin snorts, “A bit presumptuous, eh Stevie?”

The floaty feeling in his gut turns into a boulder, “I mean— That’s not what— Obviously I’d love it to—” he cuts himself off for the last time at the smirk on her face. “Oh fuck you.” He shakes his head in fond exasperation as he turns, heading back out of the bathroom.

Robin’s teasing him still when the back door opens and Eddie waltzes in, the round, decorative basket Joyce had been using to put all the apples people fished out of the barrel in his arms and a(nother? The same?) apple lodged in his teeth.

He spots them and puts the basket down on the island, spinning dramatically to lean onto the tabletop to face them.

His hand comes up to grab onto the apple, snapping off a bite and sucking away the juice as he takes it away from his mouth, “Hey Stevie, Birdie,” he says over a mouthful of crunching fruit.

Steve blinks once, then turns to Robin, “I’m not going to survive 'till tomorrow.”

Before she or Eddie can react, Steve is striding across the room and pulling his sodden friend to him in a tart, apple-flavored kiss.

Robin says something about being lookout, but Steve’s too busy feeling Eddie’s mouth on his.

Until Eddie pulls back that is.

“Shit– Eddie, I’m so sorry, I—” Steve stops when Eddie’s finger comes up between them.

Eddie chews once, twice, a third, then swallows down the rest of his bite.

Ah.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes once his mouth is clear. “Now, where were we?” He tosses the apple over his shoulder and descends upon Steve once again.

divider from @saradika-graphics!

[thewingedwolf]

@witch-niko i think andy was talking about that on twitter the other day bc YEAH, even 23, which was imo incredibly diverse when it comes to sexuality, you still had SB who was in a long term committed relationship (but claire/ky/df all being single did offset that a bit). and then 24 felt like a HUGE step back bc we only had michael & turner and BOTH of them were in long term committed relationships. and same with this season, like we couldn’t cast one or two more bi/pan girls for blue to interact with? or even another bi/pan man like at this point if we got a bi4bi showmance i’m taking it as a win akskskd. we have izzy AND hisam both being in long term relationships? not even Trying to get a gay showmance at this point it feels and i hate it!!! they haven’t had a single trans person on the show since audrey! come on grodner!!!!

izzy talking about the lack of gay showmances is because the reason straight showmances work is because you have a variety of people to pick from, you can’t just cast two gay people and expect them to want to get it on, which is very true and an excellent point, but also we can fix this by casting more bisexuals! we get closer every year i believe we will get a gay showmance one day soon!!!!!!

[billthedrake]

CAMP DADDY

"You got this, Carter," I heard from behind me. It was Dave, the guy at the camp I'd bonded with the most.

I wasn't sure I had it. Over the last week we'd done a lot of challenging stuff... long hikes, swimming races, rock climbing, you name it. But the spelunking was freaking me out a little, between the darkness and the tight spaces. I didn't realize I had claustrophobia, but I guess I did. I was hyperventilating.

"Come on, relax, bro," my buddy said. "One inch at a time. I'm right behind ya, man."

I pushed through. And once I cleared into a bigger part of the cave, I saw more headlamps ahead. I unclenched my held breath.

***

I'd been a real fuck up of a teenager. That's why I was here at this Outward Bound camp. Strike one was shoplifting and getting caught for it. Strike two was yelling at my dad and calling him a piece of shit, on his birthday no less. Strike three was the ketamine use. The next weekend Dad was shipping me off to this godforsaken place in the woods upstate. He wasn't going to pay for baseball, college, or my car if I didn't go. So I did.

The first couple of days I gave a bunch of lip to the counselors. I couldn't stand their fake-cheery demeanor or their 12-step BS. "Stay strong," we had to say at the end of each "huddle" meeting. Like it was fucking church.

But I was smart, smart enough how to play this. I knew I should just lay low, go along with it enough. It was just three weeks.

It helped that I bonded with Dave the first day. He was another baseball jock and cynical too. We made fun of the Sunday School teacher vibe of the lead counselor Mr. Connell. Only at Outward bound we were supposed to call the counselors by first name.

Dave had been there a week. "At least all the physical stuff is good exercise," he said. "I'm actually getting in really great shape for next season."

It was true. There was a gym, too, in the common room of the main cabin basement. Kind of a basic barbells and benches kind of gym but a lot of us jocks would work out together, until I got annoyed by them too. Other than Dave, they all bought into the 12 step crap.

I started talking to Pete, a punk guy with a shaved head and a permanent snarl on his face. He was cool. He wasn't just cynical, he'd talk back to the counselors. But one day he was just gone. No Pete.

***

Maybe unconsciously I was trying to get Pete's fate. Get out of this fucking place. I thought three weeks would go fast, but a week and a half had drained me. I mouthed off to Mr. Connell. Sorry, to "Mike." He smiled in that fakey way and tried to be zen about it. But I was getting to him. After dinner I sulked on my own. I'd started to realize Dave was in on it. Playing normal to get my confidence and win me over to the Program.

I was wallowing in self-pity sure, because I knew I was crushed out on Dave. I'd hidden the gay thing pretty well my last few years, but now I didn't have booze or pot or drugs to push my feelings down. Maybe that's why I was acting out, I don't know. My body was just a mess of hormones and my brain a bunch of conflicted thoughts.

***

I woke up in a room that was identical to the two-bed cabin I'd been sleeping in with another guy Zach. Only it wasn't the same room and there was no Zach. On the other full bed a man sat reading a book, kind of a big beefy-but trim older man, dressed in joggers and a zip-up athletic top that clung to his thick muscle. I thought it was a sex dream, but the second I realized it was real I jolted awake, sitting up straight in my small bed.

"Wait, who are you?" I blurted out. This man wasn't one of the counselors. He was older, with salt-and-pepper hair trimmed short. Probably in his early 50s.

Patiently the man set down his book. He didn't have that fakey-nice look but was on the sterner side of normal. "You can call me Daddy," he said. He had a smooth tenor voice.

This was weirder than a dream. "What the fuck?!" I yelled. "I'm not fucking calling you Daddy. Where's Zach? Where are the other guys?"

He shrugged. "You didn't like the other guys," Daddy explained. "We had to change plans."

I was freaking out now. More than in that dark cave. I jolted up and ran to the door. This cabin wasn't in a big compound but was attached to a single small room with a window overlooking the mountains. I looked back on the bed. The man was surprisingly calm, like he expected my reaction, or worse. That was one thing that made me try to check my emotion, to use my head. I knew how these fuckers worked.

"This is kidnapping," I said. I was realizing I must have been drugged to be moved entirely to this new place.

Daddy shook his head. "Fraid not. And we suggested to your father that we extend your stay here to two months. He agreed it's needed. We'll add more if takes all summer.

I broke down. Tears welled up in my eyes. I wasn't going to let this asshole see me cry, and yet I already was. Defeated, I sat on the bed facing away from him.

"It's OK," he said, with terse reassurance. "It's tough here. I'll make breakfast for when you're ready."

***

I gave him the silent treatment. Unlike the Outward Bound counselors he didn't try to make me talk. Maybe he was giving me the silent treatment too, maybe he realized a one-way conversation was useless.

I got dressed and while Daddy was showering up, I stepped out of the small cabin. There was a trail, and it had to lead somewhere. I took one look back into the cabin, then took off.

Fortunately the trail split a few times so if Daddy followed me he'd have a hard time catching up. I don't know why I hadn't thought of escaping before.

I got lost. Real fucking lost. The deeper into the woods I got, the less sense I had of where to go. The day went on. I got hungry. I kept walking. I expected to hear a highway or cars or people or some sign of civilization. Nothing.

I was freaking out. I stopped and sat on a tree trunk. Crying. There was no Dave urging me on. No "stay strong" mantra. No other guys. It was just me, fucking up again. My stomach rumbled, and I felt thirsty. It was getting dusk. I couldn't believe I'd have to sleep out here, but my big fear was wondering if I'd ever get back.

I heard rustling on the trail. Then saw a flashlight and the dark imposing figure of a 6'4" man coming my way. It was Daddy.

"Here," he said, offering me a sandwich and water. "Have this, then we'll head back."

I was too grateful and relieved to mouth off. But on our walk back I had a realization. "You knew I was here," I said.

"Yes," Daddy replied. They probably had a tracking chip in my clothes somehow.

"And you made me wait here alone."

"Yes," he admitted. "You had to learn the hard way, Carter." There was an undercurrent of empathy to his voice.

***

It took me a couple of days, but I opened up. And once I started talking, you couldn't shut me up, it felt like. I talked about my problems, and Daddy listened. It was like a therapy session and a buddy conversation, from breakfast till night.

Daddy was the first man I told I was gay. We were sitting on the Adirondack chairs outside, enjoying the view of the mountains and the sunset and I just went there. I confessed my problems dating girls and the times I got erection problems during sex.

"I told them I was drunk, but I wasn't," I said.

"I'd have done the same," Daddy said in his mellow voice.

That caught me off guard. I tried to read him, but he was still an enigma to me. A flash of me wondered if he was into men. The dude was jacked for his age, and I got a flash of excitement imagining him having sex.

Daddy was counselor, captor, friend, and father figure rolled into one. "What's your deal, man?" I asked. Not hostile like before, but probing. "Here I am spilling my guts out and I don't even know your name."

He smiled but just kept his even manner. "You don't need to know name, just Da..."

"I know," I interrupted. "You're 'Daddy.'"

Something about my exasperated tone made him smile. And maybe relent. "I did Outward Bound when I was your age. I acted out, got into trouble," he explained. "The Program set me straight."

"Was the program as unconventional when you did it?" I gestured around to the isolated cabin where I was more or less hostage.

That got a grin. "More so."

I was curious. "Did you have a Daddy?"

He nodded. "I did." He took a sip from the can of soda. "Later he taught me how to be a Daddy."

I still didn't get whatever psychoanalytic babble the Program was tapping into, but Daddy's words did make me think.

"You know what makes me, mad?" I asked.

"What?"

"This shit's probably working."

That got a chuckle. "You'll be glad when it's over Carter."

It was dark now and it felt darker out here in the middle of nowhere. "You ready for bed, kiddo?"

It was the first time Daddy used that nickname. But I replied I was.

We'd talked so much we were pretty quiet now as we went inside and got ready for bed. Normally Daddy slept in a T-shirt and shorts but that evening he peeled off his shirt. In the lamplight I could admire the powerful chest muscle and ripped abs. Best of all that DILF body was covered in a trimmed coat of salt-and-pepper fur. Before Daddy I didn't realize I was into older men. Now, I had to check my gaze.

"It's ok to look, buddy," the man said. His voice was as soft and encouraging as I'd ever heard it.

"What?" I replied in a checked grunt.

He tossed the shirt aside and turned to face me directly. He was a masculine god, even more alluring for his quiet nature. "It's OK to look," he repeated. "That's what Daddies are for."

The words were fucked up but they gave me a boner, instantly. I couldn't help it.

Daddy saw and was unfazed, peeling down his joggers to show off his soft genitals. That cock was meaty and matched the low-hanging full nuts in their shaved-smooth sac. It wasn't the first cock I'd seen of course, but it was the first live one I'd seen in a sort of sexual situation.

He walked over and pulled down the bed sheets. Daddy's backside was just as magnificent as his front. Strong back and a meaty round ass, the kind I didn't know 50-something men had. But Daddy had one.

My body was shaking, nervously, but the man was acting normal, getting into bed and pulling up the sheet to his abdomen. He gave one more look over.

"If you want to join me Carter, that's your move."

I didn't know if this was some Outward Bound trap or mindgame. A part of me didn't care, I was so horny. It's as if my brain couldn't stop my body from slipping out of my bed and crossing over. The one thing that gave me courage was seeing Daddy scoot his bed to the side to give me room to get in as he lifted the sheet a little. I could see a flash of his erection, even, thick and meaty like him.

"Stay strong, kiddo," he said softly and I nodded, getting into the bed to join him, my body shaking.

"There," he grinned as I finally settled into a lying position next to him. I could feel the heat of his body even if I was afraid to touch him still.

"You're first time with a man?" Daddy asked.

"Yes, Daddy." It was the first time I called him that. It made him smile, which made me glad.

His fingers touched my flank. I was still wearing my shorts but was shirtless and the skin contact felt incredible. This wasn't faking it with a girl.

"You're a very handsome young man, Carter," Daddy said in that soft tenor voice of his. "I'm honored to be your Daddy."

With that the mean leaned in and placed his lips against mine. It was my first kiss with a man, and nothing prepared me for it. A tingle went up my body and my prick surged even harder in my shorts. Particularly when Daddy's tongue pressed forward between my lips and into my mouth.

I was following his lead. Daddy was my coach at that moment. Coach in life and Coach in sex. I couldn't have dreamed of a better one. It was intense and sexual and passionate, but we also took our time.

As we got into it, I got the courage to feel him. His hairy, muscular, warm body. I reached down and touched his cock, hard and alive in my grip. My first dick, and one I'd never forget.

The way I moaned made Daddy pull back from the kiss.

"You like that, buddy?" he grinned.

"Yes, sir," I hissed.

"You like dick," he said with assured ease. "Don't let anyone make you think you're a lesser man because of it."

"No, Daddy," I replied, gripping his boner one last time before relinquishing it. I had to feel up the rest of him, too. More.

He slipped my shorts down, at least from one side till I decided to help him out. My dick was sap-wet and as rigid as I had ever remembered it being.

"You're not the only one," he said. "Not the only young man into dick. Your buddy Dave..." he started.

That jolted me in surprise. "For real?"

Daddy nodded. His hand now circled around my crotch before his fingers grazed my boner. "For real."

I don't know if it was jealousy or something else I was feeling. "You do stuff with him?" I asked.

The man shook his head. "No. He has a different Daddy," he explained, pausing before deciding his could share the information. "Connell."

Well, fuck me, I thought. The last thing I would expect.

Now Daddy's lips were on my neck, kissing me as his hand alternated between massaging my smoother body and stroking my cock. "You up for the full ride tonight, Carter?" he asked.

If he'd asked me that even an hour before, I would have chickened out. But the body contact and the sexual intimacy made me want it all.

"Yeah, Daddy, I do," I answered. "Stay strong, right?"

That got a laugh. He leaned up. I'd never seen him look so hot, so handsome. "Yeah, kiddo... that's right. Stay strong." He leaned in for another kiss, softer this time. It felt right. Righter than right.

Then he started working his way down, kissing my chest and abs, feeling me up some, telling me he was going to take his time.

I got my dick sucked for the first time. I got my balls licked. Then Daddy urged me to pull back my legs and proceeded to give me my first rim job.

I decided then and there that two months here wasn't going to be enough. I hoped my Dad would keep me here the whole damn summer.

"Oh fuck!" I hissed. It was stimulating and naughty and tickling at the same time. I loved getting eaten out. I didn't have anyone to compare it to, but Daddy was a pro. Eager, intense yet also working in some finesse to keep it intersting.

I slowly relaxed my hole. My whole body was relaxed, in fact, lying back into the bed, looking up at the ceiling as I kept my legs pulled back for Daddy.

The first finger entry caught me by surprise. I looked down to see Daddy's brown eyes fixed on me, as he worked his finger in and out.

"Stay strong, buddy," he urged softly.

"Fuck yeah, Daddy," I replied. Trying to be his good soldier. Daddy was gonna make me a man that night, and I wanted to be all man for him.

He finally pulled back and reached over. I didn't even notice the little jar there before, but Daddy unscrewed the lid and dug in. There was some liquidy grease that coated his fingers.

And now my asshole. Damn, it made his two fingers feel incredible going in. And out. And in again.

"Yeah, you're hungry, kiddo."

I grunted. Those fingers were feeling intense in a great way, but short circuiting my thought. I flashed to think of Dave, imagining Mike Connell doing this to him.

A third finger now breached my relaxed ring. It gave a few gentle prods then pulled out.

"You're ready."

The man scooted in place, his hard dick standing straight up from his hairy crotch that was still darker brown than his chest hair. I had felt but not gotten a real good look at his cock, but Daddy was real thick and maybe 6.5 inches in length. The guy was horned up, too, judging by how rigid his meat was. He slathered some of that grease on his boner and pushed it down to line himself up.

"The entry might be tough," he warned. "Or not."

"You better not say, 'Stay strong,'" I joked.

That got a laugh out of the man. "You're all man, Carter," he said.

And like that his cock was breaching my hole.

"Unnfg!" I let out, before I caught myself. The sting surprised me. It didn't hurt too bad, but the unfamiliarity of it freaked me out some.

Daddy's hands rand along my abs, gently, coaxing me silently to relax. I tried, until I was successful. More dick slid into me. The man was patient, but I could tell he was really turned on.

I was getting my cherry taken away, and I was thrilled, particularly when Daddy's cock bored deeper. Weirdly, the deeper the man went the better it felt. Daddy felt bigger than 6.5 inches. Maybe I'd underestimated his size, maybe it was just the psychological effect of having him buried inside me.

"Fuck yeah, kiddo," Daddy growled. "Take it."

I looked up at him. The man was a stud who knew what he was doing. "You done this before?" I asked. "Taken a guy's virginity?"

The question caught him off guard. It was almost like he didn't want to answer me. But he looked down with those soulful brown eyes and replied, "I have, Carter. Many times." He pulled his hips back and thrust in. THAT felt fricking amazing and I held onto his meaty arms. Then again. "But I care about each and every one," he added. His thrusts got faster, as Daddy intuited I was receptive. "I care about you, kiddo."

Daddy was taking me there. Physically and psychologically, he was showing me how amazing getting fucked could be. The man wasn't rough, but he pumped faster and harder. He was teaching me I loved it that way. I held on and looked up at him and felt my prick quiver.

"Fuck me, Daddy!" I hissed.

"Yeah, kiddo. Daddy's got ya." His body seemed in control but his breath was ragged and heavy. The man was turned on like hell.

That thick cock seemed a blur inside me now, its way in my tunnel greased up and the heavy hard rod punching some spot inside me.

I dind't realize I was so close to cumming until Daddy's greased fist wrapped around my bone. Not even needing to stroke it, just touching me made me fire off. I saw white, and my body felt hot and tense, then it all got released with a series of cum shots firing out of my young jock body.

I tried to keep my vision, to look up at Daddy in gratitude. To watch his own O face take over form the calm, collected surety of his experience. That got tossed out the window when Daddy came. He was as lost in pleasure as me. That made me happy.

We crashed together. Holding onto one another's hot sweaty bodies, them our lips meeting to kiss again.

"Oh buddy," he hissed finally. Like I was the one who'd done him a favor. Maybe I had.

We didn't talk after, we didn't need to. Instead, Daddy held me in a spoon position and we drifted off to sleep. At least for a few hours before we had sex again.

***

The next week, Daddy had me pack my backpack, and he led me back to main compound. I would have been sad our alone time was over, but I knew it wasn't going to be our last. Daddy didn't have to tell me. I just knew he'd be in my life from now on and me in his.

Punk dude Pete was back. His hair had grown out and was in a military buzz and his snarl was gone. Dave though was the one who welcomed me first with a bro hug. The other guys followed suit.

I wondered how many of them had a Daddy.

***

I was part of the Program now. Welcoming the newcomers. Bonding with the cynical ones. I'd been where they were and knew what they were going through. I'd been a fuck up, too.

Two months went by quickly. My Dad was there to pick me up. He had an apprehensive look on his face. Connell told me that Dad had been updated on my progress, but after what my father had been through maybe he was nervous I'd not been truly changed.

I had my mobile phone back, and I'd already looked at the last messages multiple times. "Stay strong, kiddo - Daddy." Then "You better stay in touch. Love ya, Carter."

I took one last look and tucked my phone into my pocket before running over to give my Dad a big hug.

"Damn, Sport."

Dad hadn't called me Sport in ages.

"Thank you, Dad," I said. There would be more to say later. But the look on his face was a huge reward. His fingers grazed behind my ear as he held my head steady and looked into my eyes. Like he was reunited with a son he'd lost for real.

"OK if we break up the journey home?" he asked, snapping out of his spell and grabbing my bag from me. "It's a long drive."

"Of course," I said.

We got settled into the front seat and Dad started the car. We made some small talk, and Dad caught me up on life back home. Though I didn't miss much, other than maybe Dad re-treating the wood on the back deck.

We were winding down the mountain and re-entering civilization. At least if these small, one-traffic-light towns counted as civilization.

Dad shifted from the small talk. "So... you survived OK, Son?"

I nodded. "More than survived, Dad. Thrived." I had bought into the whole Program now.

He seemed pleased. "I, um... heard from an old Army buddy of mine," he said. Something in his tone seemed laden with meaning. "He said he got to know you real well."

I blushed. I knew damn well my father was talking about Daddy.

"Yes, sir. We got real tight."

Dad had a good idea of what I meant. He gave a gentle nod and glanced over at me. "I'm glad to hear."

I was chubbing up in my jeans now thinking about Daddy. "OK if I go visit him sometime, Dad?" I asked.

Dad's voice got quiet. "That can probably be arranged."

I thought maybe I freaked my dad out. But we were quiet for a lot of that drive. It had been around 3PM when I'd checked out of the Compound, and it was getting dinner time.

I loved diner food and after two months of Outward Bound meals, I was ready for a real restaurant meal. I scarfed down my food, which amused Dad. "Looks like they haven't been feeding you, Sport," he said.

"They definitely don't believe in creature comforts," I said. I pulled out my phone. "This might have been the hardest thing to live without." I mostly was checking to see if Daddy sent me another message.

Dad laughed. Then he got serious. "So... no hard feelings, Carter?"

I sighed. "God, Dad. After what I did to you? What I put your through? I don't know how to make it up to you."

"You don't have to make anything up to me, Son. Just stay on the straight and narrow. At least till you find yourself."

I took that in. "I'm finding myself, Dad. For real."

"That's all a father can ask," he said.

Dad was normally not great at expressing emotion, and already he was itching to get the check and pay for the meal.

We drove a little bit more. Dad had me find an available hotel that wasn't too expensive. I don't think I realized until we checked in how long of a day it had been. Emotionally as much as anything.

I decided not to check my phone again. Daddy and I would find a groove to correspond and to meet again. I trusted him.

After I brushed my teeth, Dad was in one of the beds, watching TV on low volume. He wasn't build quite as strong as Daddy but his upper body was solid, and he had the same soft furry chest. As I stripped down to my briefs, Dad's eyes watched me furtively. Probing me with soft expectation.

I took the initiative this time. Just feeling Dad's eyes on my half-naked body was all the signal I needed. Pausing at my own bed, I turned back to him. "Ok if I join you instead?" I asked.

Dad was too scared to reply. But he nodded and slid over.

Only when I got into bed with him did I realize that Dad's bod was more solid than I initially thought. His clothes always hid the hard tone of his muscle and he had some love handles that stopped shy of a beer belly.

Our kiss was soft and taboo as fuck. Dad's hands clung to my body, like eagle talons. I pushed my tongue into my father's mouth and felt him plunge his back. Dad didn't kiss like Daddy did. It was hard and needy.

Just as impetuously he and I stripped down our underwear. Our dicks were a lot alike. Longer, regular thickness, with a gentle curve to the right, heaving leaking. Like twins. Dad looked down at mine, like I did at his.

"You're all grown up, Carter."

"Yeah, Dad." I reached down and touched his cock. My dad's cock. He wasn't Daddy, he wasn't my first man, but the forbidden aspect made it off the charts. "I gotta learn to be your son again, though."

Dad gulped. His eyes grew misty wet. "You never stopped, sport. Not even this last year."

We kissed. Dad was responding to my soft approach, like I'd responded to Daddy's. My hand ran along his strong chest and his softer middle as we made out. I felt every bit of guilt for how I'd treated Dad and it was coming out in the only way I knew. Like Dad, I wasn't good at expressing emotion.

But I was good at this.

I broke off the kiss with a playful smile. Dad seemed to be trying to read what I was thinking. I let him wonder a minute longer.

I scooted down, kind of kneeling on the bed, till I was face to face with the dick that made me. I touched it again, feeling its poker hot heat and its steel rigidity. I could smell his masculine scent.

"Sport..." he urged, as if telling me something.

His next words caught in his throat as I took his dick into my mouth. I paused a second. Daddy had instructed me in this, but my father's cock felt particularly dry until I summoned up some extra saliva. Then I went down on him, slowly, teasingly.

I was going to make things up to Dad in the way I knew how.

He placed his hand on my head, softly cradling it as I lovingly blew him to completion.

***

The next morning when Dad was in the shower I sent a text.

"Daddy, you didn't tell me you knew my father."

He was up and the reply was quick. "You had to find out for yourself." Then, "I hope you can be a junior counselor next summer."

I thought of what next year would mean. Being off at college, enjoying some independence. Making new friends.

But I knew that meant nothing. "You know I will," I wrote.

"Stay strong," Daddy replied.

"Stay strong," I wrote back, then set down my phone.

[fruitsofhell]

My other fun addition to the Hbomberguy video stuff is not just that you need to start checking everyone's sources just to make sure you aren't being duped, but to not use them as a stand in for media consumption/experiences either. Like I'm not gonna lecture you on reading sources cause I am the first one to not and that's my laziness, but like sometimes more important than checking the original analysis of something is just to... see tge thing being analyzed yourself. That's not even about misinformation or lying, sometimes people's opinions just SUCK ASS.

Like there are youtube video essayists I overall kinda respect but they have dogshit opinions on things. I used to love Jack Saint's bad faith overly critical analyses of throwaway kids films, until I realized he also saw films that in my opinion had a lot of merit, and it turned me off from him. Big Joel is cool as hell, but anytime he gives his opinion on animation save like a few points, I completely glaze over and find him annoying. The other day I watched a video essay about the "Magical Negro" trope, and the first movie sourced interested me, so I watched it and I hardly understand why they put that in, it framed the movie as something it wasn't.

Just in general, it's good practice to make sure your opinions on media are your own and experience it yourself. MY biggest takeaway from the Hbomn video wasn't to throw rocks at Somerton or start obsessively fact-checking every essayist I watch, but to make sure I have a baseline of what they talking about myself and not letting anyone throw around media examples without reckless abandon. The Celluloid Closet and Tinkerbelles and Evil Queens is on my watxh/read list now, but the first thing I did from the words he stole from Celluoid Closet was watch Rebels Without A Cause out of curiosity of this gay subtext in a 50s blockbuster. And it was a super interesting experience that has given me my own unrelated opinions. Not to discount whatever important queer reading and historical importance the film has, but I'm happy I also have more than just that cause I Watched It Myself, not someone's specific and unavoidably biased reading of it.

The video isn't about cultivating suspicion but cultivating appreciation for the skills of analytical/informative/opinion writing. So even when people aren't being lying grifters, it's just good to be your own critic and media analyst. Maybe you'll even contribute to that world yourself, or maybe you'll keep all your cool opinions in your heart and die, who cares. The point is that unlike some people, your opinions and words are your own. It's a beautiful thing to have your own creative voice.