#meganwritess

“Ilya Hollander,” he offered finally, casually even, as if he said it just to test how the words might sound out loud and not because they had forcibly fought their way out. He tried not to linger on the taste, sweet and hopeful. Shane’s back stilled very suddenly. Fuck. — In a tangle of bedsheets, Ilya poses a hypothetical.

Eddie, My Love - Adoption

Eddie and I, uh, we have a son. 

[hold for wild, semi-shocked applause and excited cheering]

Yeah, I know, it’s fucking crazy. His name is Charles, he is very small, just like his dad... I should clarify, we call Eddie ‘dad,’ and Eddie calls me ‘daddy.’ That’s unrelated to this story, I just like talking about my sex life.

[a female audience member whoops, Richie breaks a little] 

Calm down, ma’am. [the audience chuckles] And I love him, I love Charles. Um, you should know, though, Charles is an 8 month old puppy, not a human child. When we got him, his mom’s owner told us he was a Havanese... which is weird... because he’s not. He looks like a corgi.

And by that I mean Charles is definitely a Welsh corgi, um.... Like, I don’t know if everyone here has seen a Havanese dog.... [general positive response from the audience] oh, okay, a lot of you, cool. For the  rest of you, they look nothing fucking like corgis. 

So Charles’ 23andMe results were a little fucked, but who cares, 23andMe said Eddie was 22% South Korean and that can’t be right because everyone knows Eddie’s 16% Irish, and 84% my bitch.

[hold for laughter]

Fun fact, when I first read him that joke, Eddie shut my laptop and told me he was 100% my bitch, which, lemme tell you, folks, is a very hot thing for your husband to tell you in bed, but I responded with “I knew you’d argue no matter what I put down, and I needed that Irish instinct in you to be properly represented.”

[hold for laughter]

And we still fucked, because he not only puts up with my bullshit, but he loves me more because of it.

[hold for applause and laughter]

The one downside though, to fatherhood, is that Charles eats... everything. Like, even things that I didn’t know he was able to consume? Eddie went for a jog, a couple months ago, because, in case you forgot, he’s in great fucking shape, and I was just trying to write material in my office, and I noticed Charles had been really quiet for, like, way too long.

Never a good thing, he talks almost as much as his [spanish accent] papi, so I call him, and that doesn’t work, so I’m immediately panicking, which I know isn’t rational. He was like, 5 months old. Our boy couldn’t tell a rat from a raccoon if I’m being completely honest. Anyways, I search the entire fucking house, and then I go upstairs to the bedroom. 

Quick sidebar, totally unrelated, um... Eddie and I were going to fuck that night, so I had gone out to get some lube, which was sitting, unopened, in a shopping bag on the bed. [a few people laugh/gasp and Richie breaks briefly] I said it was unrelated!

Okay, so, I go into our bedroom, and the dog is sitting there, drooling. Like... a weird amount. And I look next to him, and the plastic bag is torn to shreds, and the lube is every where, because, apparently, when dogs eat their gay dads’ water-based-personal-lubricant it makes them drool. 

Annabelle had been right that day in the car, albeit uninformed; Paul Baker was nice. He was also charming and friendly and outgoing and kind and a little pathetic, but above all else he was nice and it left him with a perpetual stomach ache. Paul Baker was hungry. Paul Baker was starving for something he had never known how to ask for. For a second, he could have sworn Anton tasted like something. ——— Or, what happens after the power outage.

read now!

1. she was trying to pass along the memory of her mother to this child who likely never met her.

2. she was at a lavender farm. and it was her mother’s favourite scent.

@blupjeansweek

Barry and Lup lay on the deck of the Starblaster, stargazing. They hadn’t come out here together, Lup went out first and Barry sheepishly followed her. He couldn’t help it, really; he felt a bone-deep, physical attraction to her. Not horniness—well, not just horniness—but like a gravitational pull.

The sky on this planet was like nothing he had ever seen. The stars were huge, and their light shifted from a soft lilac to a sea foam green. After what felt like an eternity of gentle silence, Lup looked over at him.

“Do you ever wish you were something else?”

He laughed quietly. ”Hmm… maybe Tom Arnold, or someone like that. Famous, but not too famous, y’know?”

“Not someone else,” Lup corrected. “Something else.”

Barry didn’t quite know how to respond. He shook his head.

“I think I’d like to be a sun,” she whispered, almost to herself. Almost like he wasn’t meant to hear. But he did. He spent the next few days thinking about her question, and eventually found his answer.

There was a time, long before Lup entered his life, when he wondered what his purpose was. What anyone’s purpose was, really. Looking back on that period, it all seems so empty and meaningless. Now, he knows what his purpose is.

If Lup is a sun, then Barry is a planet. Orbiting effortlessly around her day after day, year after year, century after century. It’s not a difficult task, not by a long shot. He enjoys the endless rotation, enjoys revelling in her beauty day in and day out.

•••

Lup is in the process of making a killer lasagna one afternoon when Barry approaches her. He looks nervous, standing in the entryway to the kitchen. He reminds her of a small child standing in their parents’ doorway, psyching himself up to confess he threw up.

“Y’know that thing you said the other day?” He asks, avoiding eye contact.

“About how we should call it ‘rubbing’ errands instead of ‘running’ errands?”

“No, about wanting to be something else?”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’d be a planet.” He finally looks up from where he’d been twisting his hands together anxiously. “If I could be something else, I’d be a planet.”

“Huh,” Lup smiles softly. “That suits you, Bear.”

Barry nods, pleased with his answer. Lup barely pays attention to the rest of their conversation, too focused on the fact that her answer has changed.

Pleased to announce I’m gonna do my best to participate in this years @blupjeansweek !!

I’ll link each prompt as I complete it :)

Day 1: Bluejeans

Day 2: Clown

Day 3: Sun/Moon

Magnus is buttering a few bagels for him and the mystery man upstairs when a little blip of a memory zaps through his brain. “I cast ‘Zone of Truth!’” a familiar voice had said, slurring his words a little. “You still down?”

“Fuck yeah, you?”

“Hell yeah, homie, let’s do this.”

Ah, shit.