#and did a ton of orders & even like. ran an errand and ~ volunteered ~ for a trans clothing swap

[writhe]

having an off day and feeling bad

[mistymazzello]

Illicit Affairs | part two

Joe Mazzello x Reader

summary-Y/N, a failing actress in New York City, is offered an internship as Joe Mazzello’s assistant on the set of a movie. Her seemingly small crush on her boss could get her into trouble, but what does she have to lose?

word count- 2.3k

warnings- cussing

part one

based on illicit affairs by taylor swift

There was still one week left until shooting started, and you spent everyday at the office preparing. Filing papers, making phone calls, running around so that Joe could stay sane. On a particularly windy morning, the August heat still relentless, you jogged into the office building, three coffees in hand. 

You smiled a good morning at one of the writers as you passed, stepping out of the elevator. Hair covered half of your face from the harsh wind as you walked towards Joe’s office. You pushed it out of your face with your free hand as your heels lightly clicked against the tile floor. 

You gave one of the coffee’s to Julia, the producer who you had met on your first day. “Thank you, my love.” She blew you a kiss. You had recently learned she was 63, and had been producing movies since the 70s. She’s also one of the coolest people you’ve ever met.

The second coffee went to the head writer, who looked as if he’d been there all night. He seemed especially thankful for it.

“You’re late.” Beck said, catching up to walk beside you.

With furrowed eyebrows, you checked your watch. “I’m 3 minutes early?”

“Okay well, I’ve been here for 15 minutes. If you’re not 5 minutes early, you’re late.” He huffed. 

Doing nothing but shaking your head to avoid from telling Beck to fuck off, you arrived at Joe’s door.

“Who’s that coffee for?” Beck questioned sternly.

You finally stood still, turning towards Beck. “Joe.”

He looked mad. “How’d you know his coffee order?”

You raised your eyebrows. “I asked him.” 

He scoffed. Opening the door, you stepped inside, once again adjusting your hair that had been tangled by the wind.

“Mornin’ boss.” You said, walking over to Joe’s desk to set the coffee down.

“Hey kid.” He smiled. “Morning Mr. Beck.”

“Good morning Mr. Mazzello.” Beck straightened his posture. 

After some friendly conversation, Joe explained that he had a meeting with all of the costume and makeup people for the movie. “I need one of you to come with me to hand stuff out and keep track of things for me.”

“”I will.” Beck volunteered before you could even think to say anything.

“Ah Beck, ever eager.” Joe sighed.

He turned to you. “Then you, I’ll just need you to answer some emails for me. Just get to whatever ones you can get to.” He said.

“Okay.” You smiled as he and Beck headed towards the door.

“You’re a peach.” He winked before leaving.

You couldn’t help but smile smally, your cheeks pink as you crossed to the other side of the desk to sit at his desk where his laptop was. You read and responded to emails for a while, your chin set in your hand. 

Something you loved about this job was that no matter how boring or mundane a task was, you always found it enthralling. You got to answer the emails of a Hollywood director, who everyone seemed to be trying to get in contact with. When you print off papers for 20 minutes, it’s exciting because you’re printing off new pages of a script that hardly anyone has read yet. Being an intern was fun, but being Joe’s intern was incredible.

You didn’t think there was a single person in this office who didn’t find Joe handsome and charming and funny, so you tried not to fret when you had these feelings all of the time. 

Joe thought you were adorable. Amazingly pretty, sweet, sarcastic. He assumed the same that you assumed about him, that he shouldn’t worry that he thinks this because he was sure that everyone else did too.

Joe and Beck came back into the office, chatting about something that had to do with the casting director. You finished up the email you’d been writing and stood up from Joe’s seat.

“I hope you didn’t go snooping around in my computer.” He joked.

“Nope, just read all of your personal emails from your family and dug through your photos. You now, normal intern stuff.” You smiled.

Joe cackled. “Nothing I wouldn’t expect from you.”

The rest of the day was similar to that morning, the whole day packed with meetings. Beck had to leave to deliver some papers (you thought it was the refined script) to someone across town, because apparently they were too top secret to be sent by email.

As you were typing out a schedule for hair and makeup, Joe poked his head in the office. 

“Hey, kid?” He asked softly.

“Hm?” You looked up.

“Would you mind coming to this meeting with me? You won’t have to do much, I just want someone to go with me.” He said.

“Oh, yeah sure.” You shut your laptop and stood up to follow him. 

“Why do you want someone to come with you?” You asked quietly as the two of you walked down the hallway. 

Joe stopped outside of the conference room. “Because I fucking hate this guy.”

You laughed lightly.

“Pretend I never said that.” He followed up.

You pretended to zip and lock your lips. He laughed, shaking his head.

The meeting was rather boring, but you understood why Joe hated this guy. He was loud and rude and screamed snobby rich dude. Joe gave you a couple of “I’m so sorry.” glances throughout, but you just gave him some sympathetic smiles back, because you weren’t the one who had to talk to him.

Still, Joe hadn’t mentioned anything about the subway. You were relieved to say the least, hoping that he had forgotten about it. You assumed that if he knew it was you, he would’ve said something over the last 3 weeks.

It was getting dark out by the time Joe said that you and Beck could leave. As you began to step out of his office, offering him a “Bye, Joe.”, he stopped you. Beck had already walked out, and you tilted your head as you stepped back into his office.

“God, I feel like such an old person asking this, but can you help me with something on my computer? I can’t figure out how to download this video that marketing wants me to watch.” He sighed.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You smiled.

“You're a lifesaver.” He said, rolling his chair back so you could lean over his computer.

It took a matter of seconds for you to figure it out, explaining it to him as you went. 

“Oh, well now I just feel stupid.” He sulked.

You giggled. “It’s okay. Do you know how many times a day I feel stupid around you? I had no idea what you guys were talking about in that meeting today.” You turned around to lean your thighs against his desk and face him. 

He leaned back in his chair. “I never know what that fucking guy is talking about.” He sighed. It was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable. He’s just a dick, and I have to listen to him.”

You nodded. “It’s okay. I have a feeling I’m going to have to deal with a lot more guys like him if I’m going to be a part of this industry. It’s best if I practice not telling him to go fuck himself now.”

Joe tipped his head back and laughed. “God, you have the best attitude.” He smiled.

It was quiet again as the two of you smiled, looking at the ground. The room that was usually lit up by the sun outside was now lit up by a single lamp on the desk, along with the city lights through the floor to ceiling windows on the far wall.

Joe looked up at you, the orange glow from the lamp casting a light over your face as you looked at the ground. 

He sighed, then sat up straight in his chair. “Okay, well, I’ll let you go home now. I have a ton of shit to do and you’re probably dead tired.”

“Well do you need help with anything?” You asked immediately.

“No, no. It’s nothing really business related and again, you’re probably dead tired.” He shook his head.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind. My whole job is to make sure you’re not overwhelmed.” you said.

He breathed out and bit his inner cheek. “Well, if you really want to, I have a few errands I have to run, so if you wanted to pick up my dry cleaning and bring it to my apartment, it would save me like an hour.”

“Yeah, I could totally do that.” You shrugged.

“You’re literally an angel, Y/N.” He eulogized. He dug into his bag and pulled out a key. “This is my spare. When you drop off the clothes, just set it on the table. And don’t rob my house.”

“Aw, I can’t even look for a safe?” 

Within 15 minutes, you were picking up Joe’s dry cleaning. The city was in full swing as you took a taxi across town, the lights outshining the moon by a mile. You unlocked Joe’s door and stepped inside, the apartment pitch black as you searched for a light switch, overwhelmed by the scent Joe carried with him at all times. Musky and expensive, but at the same time incredibly comforting. The exact scent of the jacket he had given you. You turned the lights on and walked further into the apartment, looking around. There were papers scattered across the coffee table in the living room, and tons of pictures hanging on the wall. You didn’t want to snoop-no, you weren’t going to snoop. You walked swiftly past the photos on the wall, only catching a slight glimpse of a picture of him and an older woman, presumably his mom.

Debating where to put the clothes, you figured it made sense to hang them in his closet. The scent got stronger as you stepped down a hallway, peeking your head into each of the rooms, trying to find his bedroom. It was at the end of the hallway, and you tried your hardest not to look around while you were walking across the room to his closet, but some things were inevitable to see. The room was clean, unorganized, but still clean. The bed was unmade. More pictures covered the wall, and this time, you let yourself take a glance. Most of them were him and his family. It made you crack a smile, the thought of Joe being a family man.

You hung the clothes in the closet quickly and turned back around, ready to leave, when an orange and white cat ran past your feet and jumped onto his bed. You flinched and then laughed. “Kitty, you scared me.” You said softly, walking over to the bed and reaching out your hand.

The cat nuzzled its face against your knuckles and you giggled lightly. 

“She’s not like that with most people.” A voice said from behind you. 

“Jesus!” You jumped, turning around to see Joe in the doorway. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“You’re in my house!” He laughed.

“Sorry, I just… Sorry. I promise I wasn’t snooping around or anything I was just, I’m so sorry.” You rambled, suddenly flustered by the fact that you were in your boss’ bedroom. You sighed. “I was hanging up your clothes and-”

“Y/N, kid, I don’t care.” He laughed.

You took a deep breath and put your face in your hands. “I’m sorry.” You chuckled.

He came over and sat at the end of the bed by you, his cat immediately crawling into his lap. “I meant what I said though, she’s usually mean to new people.” He said, petting his cat softly.

You sat down next to him, reaching your hand over to pet her as well. “What’s her name?”

“Ronnie. I originally thought I was getting a boy cat so I picked out that name, I got it from the movie ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’, but then they told me last minute I was getting a girl. So I guess she’s just a girl named after a boy.”

“Mm.” You hummed “Never seen it.”

His hands froze. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’ve never seen it.” You giggled.

He gasped. “Y/N, are you fucking serious? You’ve never seen Can’t Buy Me Love? That’s like, a staple movie of American Cinema!”

You laughed a little harder. “I’ve just never really got around to it, I guess?”

He scoffed and began laughing too. “That’s ridiculous. I’m forcing you to watch it sometime. Sometime before shooting ends, that’s my goal. We have to culture you.”

“You’re my boss, I guess I have to agree.” You said.

“Mhm. Exactly.” He said, his eyes twinkling.

Ronnie crossed over to your lap and laid down. Joe scooted closer to you to continue scratching her head, unintentionally pressing his thigh against yours.

You tried to keep your breathing steady as you stared down at the cat, doing everything you could to distract yourself from Joe, who seemingly paid no mind to your closeness.

A quiet fell over the room as you both silently pet his cat. It was a comforting scene.

Ronnie, who had seemed to start more than one problem tonight, decided to stand up, stretch, then jump off your lap, trotting out of the room. Now, there you sat, right next to Joe.

He looked up at you, like he had just now realized how close he was to you.

“I should… probably go.” You said quietly. He nodded and you stood up, making a beeline for the door. 

“Bye, Y/N, thanks for picking up my dry cleaning.” He spoke dryly.

You turned and rested your hand against the doorway to his room. “Goodnight Joe.”

You could’ve thrown up as you took the elevator down to the first floor. Here you are, just about 3 weeks into your first job, and you almost truly, royally fucked things up. 

Maybe, you thought, you were thinking too far into things. That things hadn’t crossed over a professional line, that all you really ever did was pet his cat and talk about a stupid movie. 

As Joe heard you walk out his front door, he flopped back onto his bed, covering his face with his hands, the same thought process as you going through his mind.

“Fuck.” He groaned. 

-

taglist- @im-an-adult-ish @almightygwil @draconiiian @roveyrove @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band @lizgarxo

[beckytailweaver]

[FIC] Unborn Destiny AU clip - Disrepair

Another draft clip.  This is rather long and contains far too much exposition, which will be rethreaded when it’s finalized, but for now it’s just imagery and thought before a bit of action. Please don’t mind the construction dust.

Unborn Destiny clip (Setting: Land of the Dead, Crafts District neighborhood/streets, evening)

When Victoria was running late returning from the booklender's, Héctor volunteered to go and walk her home.  He was the one with the least pressing duties around the shoe shop, and he knew most of the streets in the Land of the Dead like the back of his hand; any time the family needed a package or purchase order delivered, a shipment or bit of groceries picked up, he was more than happy to assist.

It gave him something useful to do besides being underfoot.  Now that he was Remembered, walking at a brisk pace on his long legs wasn't an achy, onerous balancing act fighting gravity and his own brittle frame.  He could stroll down the street without pain, without effort, without having to keep track of every bone threatening to let go and tumble out from under him.

One more peso of gratitude added to the pile, every time he thought about it, to be saved up for the day his Chamaco finally returned to him, and then there would be a hug and a gracias for every single one.  If not for Miguel, he would have been dust; now he was dancing with his family, healing and moving without pain, sleeping without the fear of never waking up, and looking forward to crossing that flower Bridge legally every year.

His healing had gotten so much faster since the recent Día de Muertos, when he'd finally visited the living family and claimed the memory of his old guitar.  Even the huge, jagged split in his tibia, closing ever so slowly with only a handful of living family members to Remember him, had finally decided to seal itself what seemed like overnight, taking the last of the soreness in his left leg with it. He could spin on one foot on that bone like he hadn't been able to in years.

He could walk, he could run, he could skip and ramble and dance.  He'd been Forgotten and broken and unable to heal for so long he'd never realized how much pain he was really in—one ache piled atop another year after year—until it had so rapidly ended, like someone had reached out and lifted a heavy burden off his back.  Sometimes it still felt strange to be standing so straight—had he always been this tall?—or to have his joints seem so stiff, but it was well worth it to be able to dance with Imelda or carry things for Rosita or help his daughter up a steep stairway.  Running errands for his family was no chore at all; it was a simple happiness because he could do it so easily now, and enjoy the sights and the people he met along the way.

Héctor also wasn't a huge fan of his granddaughter walking home alone in the evening.  He knew there was very little in the Land of the Dead that would truly harm anyone, and she was a capable adult in her own right; they lived in a good neighborhood and the booklender wasn't even that far...and he was probably being terribly old-fashioned, but it tugged wrong at him to let a lady walk by herself at night.  Victoria did love her books—his clever, witty, knows-everything girl! She was so smart—and sometimes she would get absorbed in the library and end up returning later than she'd intended.

It was no trouble for him to go and meet her and walk her home.  He'd get to spend time with her, and after it had taken her so long to really open up to him he treasured every moment.  Even if it was just getting to nod along to her chatting about a very sciency book about biology she'd read and he didn't understand about half of it; his joy was in how earnest and interested she was and the fact that she wanted to tell him all about it.

Victoria was prim and strong just like her grandma, and didn't let herself shine for just anyone.  Héctor considered himself privileged to get to see it.  He'd been thrilled and honored the time she'd read a whole book about the science of how musical instruments produced sound, just so she could talk about it with him.  It was terribly interesting and he'd had no idea how complicated the study of music could be!

Héctor spotted his granddaughter's bright blouse in the warm light of the streetlamps near the Scribes' Street.  She was already on her way home, a canvas bag of books on her arm, and it warmed his heart when she brightened upon seeing him. He raised his hand to wave, his jaw opening to call out to her.

A broken brick hit the ground at her feet, startling her a step aside in confusion.  She looked around as if thinking someone had thrown it at her.

From further back, Héctor could see the teetering brickwork of the track overpass on the wall above her, swaying as the trolley approached blindly on its rails.  A weakened collection of stone and steel taped up with "CUIDADO" and "Under Construction" but nothing more than that because this was the Land of the Dead and who cared about a few little accidents it was impossible to die from—

The trolley rattled by, and the brickwork fell.

"Victoria!"

As if everything in the world had slowed to a crawl, he could see the bricks and twisted metal falling toward her.

In that moment, Héctor had never been more grateful that he was Remembered—that his legs were long and strong under him, could send his near-weightless skeleton forward with all the power they knew in life, so quickly the world around him seemed a blur.  He covered the yards between himself and his granddaughter in only a few rapid bounds, hands reaching out—

He saw Victoria's face, startled, uncomprehending, her mouth open.

—to push her back, away, clear of the half-ton of broken stone and twisted iron that crashed down like the bitter finality of poison's burn, and all he could think was that he was so glad that she would not be hurt, would not be crushed, would not be broken.  The hazard fell with a clattering hiss like the teeth of a monster snapping shut, and he felt the impact—

(This was going to be worse than anything before it; he wasn't going to bounce back from this, every bone would be shattered and he'd be crippled for months, healing for years, but at least it wasn't Victoria.)

—like hitting the ground after jumping off a high ledge, only with a hundred times more weight and from two directions at once—

(A flash behind his eyes, blue-white like distant lightning.)

—and his bones weren't going to scatter harmlessly this time, too tight and Remembered, too buried in stone—the collision roared through him—

(A young voice raised in a brief, far-off scream; he knew that cry, someone precious falling from a great height—no no no Chamaco please no—!)

—with such pain and pressure he couldn't move, a thousand cracks and stings over every surface.  If he still had any surfaces.  He couldn't tell how many pieces he was in.  His skull rang but he could still hear the pattering of loose pebbles, the shouts of strangers, Victoria's frantic voice.

...it's okay, mija, don't cry...you're my strong girl, don't cry for me...

It wasn't quite so bad; he'd had bones splinter before and it had felt much worse.  Maybe being broken into fragments wouldn't be as painful as simply snapping a limb.  Maybe there was nothing left to feel.

He could hear hurried people and shifting stone.  One arm felt like it was free so he moved it, though it probably wasn't attached.  Hands were on it; someone picked it up. Nope, definitely wasn't attached.  The hands were small and gentle though.

A deafening rattle of bricks, and light hit his eyes like the snapback of a tree branch bent too far. Someone was shouting that they'd found his head, but it was much too loud and made his skull ring like it was being hit by a ton of bricks all over again.

"Héctor!"

For that voice, he managed to peel his eyes open again.  Victoria was there hovering over him, and it was her small gentle hands on his misplaced arm—and then on his skull, carefully lifting him into her arms and running her fingers through his hair, searching for breaks.  He had to smile for her.

"Hey...m-mija...you okay...?"

"You crazy músico!" Victoria burst at him, her stern frown belying the quiver of her chin and the wet shine to her eyes.  "I'm not the one who ran under a collapsing wall!"

"Lo siento..."  She was his strong, stoic girl, and should not cry.  Not for him.  "Was...in a hurry...y'know?  Didn't look both ways..."

Her breath hitched a little. "...gracias, Abuelito."  She kissed his forehead, and that seemed to make all the cracks and pinches and aches fade into white noise.

Victoria stood up, and his clearing vision let him get a better view of the crowd that had gathered and the wreckage at her feet, albeit at an odd angle.  Madre de Dios, it looked awful—half a dozen skeletons worked frantically to move chunks of wall, loose bricks, and twisted railings, and pale slivers of ivory poked up like bizarre plants from the stone, all that was left of the rest of him.  He could feel the vibrations and shifts of weight on his aching bones, pressure that was not quite pain but the edge of it.

His granddaughter hugged him a little closer to her chest.  "It's a miracle your skull wasn't crushed," she whispered, and he could feel her trembling.  "What am I going to tell Mamá Imelda...!"

"She'll understand," Héctor chuckled breathlessly.  "It's not your fault.  I was being a tonto...for mi familia again."

"Does it hurt?" she demanded quietly.  "Are you...?"

"Ah, not...bad, I promise," he told her, wiggling the fingers on his surviving arm.  "I can't feel anything...I think...?  Just aches...  I've broken bones before, I know what that's like...I'll take numb over that."

On the impulse to move the fingers of his other hand, he did, and was surprised to find that he could wiggle fingers somewhere in the rubble.  It didn't quite hurt, wasn't quite pain, but still felt very sore.  He followed the impulse further and pulled, as if his trapped arm might somehow return to him.

More of himself answered, to his surprise.  The pressure gave in clattering thunks, stone and mortar and brick rolling across bone as one leg responded, then the other.  The magnetic pull between the joints was so strong it pushed brick out of its way as bones came together.  He heard the skeletons searching the rubble muttering and yelping as stone shifted, and pushed up against the sharp-edged weight he felt oppressively on his spine.

Vertebrae that used to pop out of place like tossed dice held like a suspension bridge, snapping up his scattered ribs like struts.  He could hear rock against rock and the people helping him were exclaiming in surprise but he kept pushing back and pulling against the stifling pressure on his bones.

I can move, he realized, a little dazed and suddenly urgent.  It doesn't hurt.  I'm still here.  I can get out.

The pull was strong enough to tug at his skull in Victoria's arms, and she held tighter to him. "Héctor, what are you...?"

"I'm okay," he told her, concentrating.  "I can—just...give me a minute—"

Victoria seemed to realize what he was doing and her eyes widened.  "No—don't move!  Please, just wait—there'll be fractures everywhere, you'll make it worse...!"

"I'm okay," he kept reassuring her, all his focus on the way his bones pulled together. "I'm okay."

His granddaughter was calling him an idiot, and vaguely he realized he was upsetting her, but in the moment he was ignoring the sudden shouts of alarm as he pulled and pushed and felt stone slide and crash and the ringing clank of metal and finally, finally the painful weight was gone and he could feel air on his bones; kept pulling, the force between his joints so strong that he at last inadvertently pulled himself right out of Victoria's grasp.

After a dizzy airborne moment he could see the world right side up, head back on his neck; he was sitting in the middle of the rubble in a chaos of broken brick and mangled wrought-iron railing, covered in mortar dust and shoving at sharp-edged stone.  Victoria was staring down at him, alarmed and stunned, and he used his free arm to wave innocently at her.

"See?" he grinned awkwardly, wincing at her dismay.  "I'm okay, mija!  Don't worry!"

"Dios mío," gulped one of the helpers gaping at him, a squat man in worn blue jeans.  "How are you not in fragments, chico?"

"Uh...just...lucky I guess?"  Héctor pulled his other hand free of the bricks and looked at it.  There were chips and scratches and a few pretty severe gouges along his bones, all of them stinging like fresh cuts; a few little cracks here and there that might even be fractures.  He felt more like he'd simply fallen out of a tree, as when he was a young boy, rather than been crushed under half a ton of brick and iron.

"Yeah," said another of the helpers, staring.  "Really lucky..."

Wincing, Héctor shoved at the rubble until his legs were free enough he could wobble to his feet, aching all over but thankfully whole. His clothes were in sorrier shape than he was, it seemed. As he stumbled off the pile of bricks he wondered if this was what being Remembered really meant for a body, where a little rough treatment was nothing to fear.

Maybe that was why some idiota thought a little caution tape was enough for such a dangerous stretch of wall!  Why, if he hadn't come to meet her, it could have been his granddaughter under that crushing pile of wreckage!

His ire didn't have time to flare up; Victoria was trying to finish the wall's job on his ribs in a far bigger hug than she usually gave, and he turned his attention to reassuring her.  The crowd of onlookers and the kindly people who'd been helping to dig him out all clustered around them, asking after his health, surprised at his well-being but glad for him.  Some were already talking of lodging a complaint about the hazardous condition of the brickwork in the area.

By the time he could help Victoria gather her dropped book bag and politely bid the crowd good evening, the stings and aches across his limbs had faded to little more than what seemed like bruises, and he felt well enough to hum a cheerful ditty as they walked.

He was fine.

His right kneecap kept up a complaining twinge, and that was strange only because he wasn't used to limping on that side.  He'd been up close and personal with Final Death, so a ton of bricks was nothing.

His granddaughter was far too quiet, studying him sidelong with the kind of deep concern his family had shown him in the early days after his brush with the Final Death—as if she expected him to suddenly collapse or crumble.

He was Remembered now.  He was stronger, straighter.  He could handle a little accident.  He wouldn't crack a bone simply by dropping a pan on his foot.

Victoria's worried glances as they walked reminded him too much of the odd looks and whispers from the crowd back on the Scribes' Street, the Remembered skeletons who believed he should have been crushed, that even someone with the strength of memory should not have escaped that disaster unscathed.

He was okay.

Héctor chattered at his granddaughter about everything and nothing in his best effort to get her to smile.  When that didn't work, he tried to distract her by bemoaning his fate when Imelda saw the state of his clothes, torn half to shreds and coated with brick dust.  His wife wasn't even going to let him in the house, he was so filthy.

He was just fine.

(this is not the end...)

I’m sorry that was so long, and not very smooth. Some of the extra-odd stuff is starting to happen!

Timeline-wise, Héctor and Miguel haven’t even been reunited yet, and are still continuing obliviously whilst wondering what’s up with these weird little events in their lives.  But honestly it just gets weirder.

This is what happens when you messed around with thousand-year-old magic, kiddos, even if you didn’t know it...there are Consequences.

[wildefiction]

Of Course...Mr. Collins

FIFTEEN

Saturday dawned early, and was, by far going to be the busiest day of the weekend based on the looks of your schedule. Misha was due on stage by noon, and he was gone before you had woken up. Not that it mattered much. When you’d left the bathroom early this morning, he’d already disappeared into his own room.  

Checking your phone, you couldn’t say you were terribly surprised at the lack of messages, so you threw yourself into your work, pushing the thoughts of the night before to the back of your mind. Dressing quickly, you grabbed your messenger bag before hurrying downstairs to find breakfast.

Ten minutes later, your phone began going off. Texts from Misha, one after another for a solid thirty seconds:

“Hey [Y/F/N] can you stop at the hotel coffee shop to pick up the cast coffee? Use the card I gave you yesterday and meet us in the green room.”

The following eight messages were orders from everyone. You were glad they were all written down, there was no way you’d remember the subtleties of the requests on your own. Groaning as you approached the Starbucks, you noted the line out the door and texted Misha an update, saying you’d be there as soon as you could. Thirty minutes later, you were approaching the front of the line and you couldn’t wait; the hunger gnawing at your stomach had put your nerves on edge and, along with your confused frustration from last night, you weren’t in the best of moods.

Stepping up to the counter, you greeted the barista with as genuine of a smile as you could muster. 

“I’m afraid I have a rather big order, so I apologize in advance..” 

Your weak smile faltered around the edges as you began to rattle off the orders, fingers scrolling through the numerous texts. After paying, you wandered to the pick-up counter, separating two drink carriers from the stack resting atop the shiny, dark-stained walnut bar. Grabbing eight straws and wrapping them in a handful of napkins, you waited for the drinks to start appearing. 

After double checking that the order was correct, you stacked the hot cups precariously on top of each other and turned to thread your way through the crowds of people still lining up for their own dose of morning caffeine. 

“Wait! Miss!” Craning your head behind you, you saw one of the coffee shop employees striding towards you with the box of danishes and breakfast sandwiches you’d decided to buy as well. 

“Oh! Thanks, you are a life-saver!” Eyes rolling in exasperation, you shifted the tower of drinks to one arm and grabbed the box with the other. Your vision now mostly obscured by paper cups and the danish box, you never saw the person in front of you as you turned and walked straight into him. 

“Well now, good mornin’ sweeheart. Can I help you with that?” 

Mumbling to yourself as you checked to make sure nothing had spilled, you looked up to see Jeffrey Dean Morgan smiling down at you through his neatly trimmed silver beard, a baseball cap pulled snugly over his dark hair, one hand resting on your shoulder while the other had prevented your purchases from tumbling to the ground. 

You insisted you were okay, but as you turned to make your way through the door, he took the box of danishes from you, effectively freeing one of your hands so you could get a better grip on the rest of the drinks. 

“Uh, thanks Mr. Morgan.” 

“Please, Jeffrey is more than fine. Mr. Morgan is my father.” “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that these aren’t all for you?” 

One dark eyebrow shot into the air as a bemused expression crossed over his face. 

“ ‘Mornin’ Sunshine..” The familiar gravelly voice lilted over the heads of the crowded coffee shop and you turned to find Norman walking towards you, two drinks of his own in hand. 

“Bubbs! What’s up man? I was just helping this young lady with her breakfast.” 

A deep chuckle erupted from the man’s chest as he leaned back on his heels, the box raised in greeting at Norman. Beaming up at the man approaching you, you greeted him; “Mornin’ yourself Mr. Reedus! I’d give ya a hug, but well…as you can see, I’m all out of arms at the moment.”

“Guess I’ll hafta take a rain check then huh?” One bright blue eye dipped in a wink as he moved to hold the door for you.

You realized rather quickly, that you had no idea where the green room was, though you assumed it was at least in the same building as the main panel hall. Flagging down a convention volunteer, you shifted the stacks of drinks to one hand, blowing an errant tendril of hair from your eyes as you asked for help. Initially she had been hesitant to point you in the right direction, but once she saw Jeff and Norman with you, she relented. 

“Down this hallway, around the corner, take another left and you’ll see it. With a mumbled “thank you”, the three of you set off down the hall.

“Dad!” “Hey hey, ol’ man!” A quick jab to the ribs from Jensen as Jeffery pulled open the door set the whole room off with good-natured laughter while you passed out the drinks to their respective owners. 

“Hey [Y/F/N], mind runnin’ back upstairs? I forgot the shirt you bought me yesterday like the ass I am and I kinda need it for my panel in a few minutes?” With a poorly disguised sigh, you rose from your seat, snatching a bacon and egg sandwich before setting off with your room key. 

“Hey, wait up Sunshine I’ll come wi’ ya.” Holding the door open behind him, a soft smile filled his face at your appreciation.

“Ya alrigh’?” Norman had noticed the lack of your normally cheerful demeanor as you walked silently down the hall towards your room. 

“Yeah, just lost in thought I guess.” A heavy arm on your shoulder made you pause and look at the man standing next to you. 

“Wan’na talk abou’ it?” “I’m a pretty good lis’ner.” Sighing, you decided to ask him his opinion.

“Norman..you’re a guy..” 

“Las’ time I check’d sweet’har” a small chuckle accompanied the statement as you told him that Misha had barely said two words to you today. 

“Hu’… di’jall fuck?” 

“ I wish it were that simple.” 

“No, I’m guessing I scared him away..I can be a bit…intense, ha.” 

Grabbing the bag with your purchases from the day before, you were in and out of the hotel room before the door had closed behind you.

Back in the green room, you pulled the shirt from the bag, silently handing it to Misha as he ran out the door after hearing Rob announce his name to the audience, raucous cheering drowning out his voice as the familiar introduction filtered through the hallway. 

Over the course of the afternoon, you barely stopped to take a breath, Misha had you running back and forth to the room and on various errands every other minute. Taking a moment to inhale the salty ocean breeze, you reminded yourself that you were still on the islands, working for Misha Collins and making friends with new people everyday. 

“I really should be more grateful…” you mused. 

“Besides, the concert and luau tonight should be a ton of fun.” 

After another deep breath, you felt better, you’d just have to get used to being busy. Busy meant you were working though, and working hard made the day pass faster.

Your ringing phone pulled you from the brief break as you turned to hurry back to the convention center, answering the phone without even noticing who it was. 

“Hey bitch! What happened to daily reports?!” The disappointment in your sister’s voice was barely perceptible, but you noticed it anyhow. 

“Oh,sister..it’s so good to hear your voice!” You spent the next few minutes catching up and telling her about what had happened the night before.

“Wow love..you know how to deal with that right?” Laughing at her indiscreet and obvious solution and the absurd amount of ease with which she’d come to her conclusion, you were suddenly even happier that she’d called. Her timing really couldn’t have been better. 

As your phone beeped, you pulled the receiver from your ear to see that Misha was calling. 

“Hey, I gotta go hun I’ll talk to you later?” 

“Mmmhm, sure sure.” But she said goodbye anyhow and you switched over to the waiting call.

“Hey Misha, what’s up?” 

“Where are you [Y/F/N]?” 

“I’m on my way back to the green room now, did you need anything while I’m on my way?” 

“I just realized I forgot to thank you for the shirt, everyone loves it. See? Told ya you could handle it!” 

His deep laughter rumbled through the line then, and the remaining tension in your shoulders melted away, a smile spreading across your face. 

“So, what’re ya wearin’ tonight?” 

“It’s a–” Changing your mind mid-sentence, you decided on a different approach. One of indifference.  

“Clothes, Misha - clothes.” 

“Speaking of which, if you don’t need anything else - I’m going to go take a shower and start getting ready.” 

Ending the call, a self-satisfied smirk replaced the earlier unease. Squaring your shoulders, you tipped the dark sunglasses from the top of your head to fall over your eyes as you turned in the opposite direction and stepped into the glass elevator that would take you to your room.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

[igiti2019]

Day 27 (6/14)

Incredible day!! (I’m again writing this the next day) I woke up early to go to day 3 of the conference, and I’m SO happy that I did. Ananya was really tired in the morning, so we left an hour late and caught only the last 10 or so minutes of the first session. The conference was incredibly enlightening, and I’m really glad that I went on the last day. There were also a TON more expats, so I didn’t feel as out of place which helped a lot. Among the people were heard from were Paul Kagame (president of Rwanda), the chairman of the African Union who preferred to speak French and had a lot of things to say about financing infrastructure to achieve SDGs, the vice president of Liberia an EXTREMELY incredible very young woman who was NOT afraid to speak her mind, the president of Zambia who was an adorable old man who didn’t really know what was going on, the Minister of Infrastructure who was very well spoken, the Minister of Finance, the head of UN Women who was GORGEOUS and very on the ball with calling people out for not actually addressing gender issues, there were INSANE panels. Even the moderator for all of the panels was a great, charismatic, and intelligent moderator who’s from BBC Africa. Paul Kagame is extremely tall and thin and soft spoken, and hearing him speak and seeing people’s reaction to his presence made very clear to me why so many authors compare him to Abraham Lincoln. He spoke very thoughtfully and intentionally and had a very relaxed composure, and even cracked a few jokes. During lunch I met a guy from Kenya who’s been in Rwanda for the past 3 years working for UN women, I met some students from Kepler, a student at African Leadership University who wants to apply to Yale’s School of Management for grad school, I met a man who’s a banker who has Kepler as a client who spoke very clear English, and I met a man who’s a journalist for Rwanda News Agency who also knew Kepler because he covered a story at Kiziba refugee camp! So many cool people, so many impressive panelists, I’m so happy I was there!!!!

I left the session a little bit early, because we had plans with Andrea for her last night here (HEARTBREAKING.) and I had some errands to run before I went to meet her, and I HAD to make it to Inzora with her before sunset, which is why we were at Inzora in the first place, because she loves the sunsets here and I told her that Inzora has the best one (which it does.) So time was a crunch. What ensued can only be described as an action movie sequence of me sprinting and jumping on motos and throwing coins at the drivers and then more running. I left the conference and started walking towards an intersection where I know a lot of moto drivers hang out waiting for customers. On the way there I called Masala Restaurant to order a samosa to pickup for Andrea since she loves the samosas so much, and because her flight is at 1 AM so I figured it would be the perfect midnight snack. I motoed to the apartment, ran in, quickly changed my shoes and jacket to get rid of the uncomfy formal conference vibe, grabbed Linus’s curry from the night before that he had left with us, and ran back out to catch another moto. Our security guard got a good laugh of that spectacle. I grabbed another moto and motoed to Masala to pick up the samosa which took FOREVER even though I called them, so as soon as I got the samosa I sprinted up their steep driveway and waved frantically at a moto driver passing by who was also amused by the spectacle that was me sprinting around carrying two takeaway bags, my wallet, phone, and keys. I hopped on and said, “Inzora. FAST.” and away we sped. When I got to Inzora I didn’t have exact change for him so I gave him too much and said to keep the change and bolted up the first flight of stairs into Inzora, then up the second flight of stairs to the roof where she had secured the best lounge spot, the couch! I was very frazzled and out of breath and told her about my last 30 minutes, and the roof full of people also seemed amused. But FINALLY I had arrived, and I made it in time for sunset! Linus was also meeting us at Inzora for happy hour, and he was already there, but didn’t know Andrea, so when I got there I called him over and the three of us sat admiring the sunset. Shortly afterward Ananya arrived, and then Andrea’s friends from the hospital came!! They all just finished their first year of med school in Philadelphia, so they’re much closer to our age. There was Cal, Ilana, Kaitlin, and Vaishal. All 8 of us crowded into a circle on the mattress and ordered the happy hour cocktail (grapefruit and tequila with hibiscus petals) and a cheese board to share. We stayed about an hour talking about our travels and getting to know each other, and then all went to Repub Lounge together for dinner. At Repub we ordered a BUNCH of food and all just shared everything, which is the best way to get a meal. We also got another one of the big talapia that I LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Among the other dishes ordered was goat stew, matoke (green banana stew), ubugali and ugali (made with kassava and corn respectively), isombe (ground kassava leaves and pine nuts), my favorite banana honey wine, and much more. We feasted like kings it was great. When we were done eating we wanted to move up to the roof to get more drinks and enjoy the live music (the same amazing woman as last time), but since we were a large party there was definitely no table for us. So Andrea volunteered me to go up and see what I could finesse, and I got us a small bar with stools on one side that we all sat and stood around, it wasn’t bad at all. After a little bit Andrea had to leave for her flight, so we hugged her goodbye and promised to keep in touch. A bit more time passed and Ilana, Kaitlin, Cal, and Vaishal also left, so Linus, Ananya, and I moved to a smaller table overlooking the beautiful beautiful nighttime hills of Kigali. At 11 Ananya wanted to go home, and she didn’t want to taxi alone, so I taxied back with her, walked her to the apartment, and then just turned around and got a moto to go back and meet Linus, just because I wasn’t ready for the night to end yet. Linus had gone to a club down the road from Repub called Sundowner, so I met him there and got a glass of wine. We shared a cigarette (I KNOW THAT’S BAD.) and sat talking for a while. At one point a man asked if he could join us, and of course we said yes. His name was Masub and after a while of talking, I learned he’s from Sudan, so we started talking about the Sudanese revolution. We also talked about Muslim culture, Eid, living in Rwanda as expats, it was a great talk. At some point I realized that Linus was much drunker than I thought, so I decided it was time for us to both go home. I walked him out of the club, we each got on a moto, and waved goodbye to each other. (As I’m writing this the next day I’ve just heard from Linus that he got home safe and his hangover is not that bad.) I fell asleep as sOON as I got home, so my story ends there.

Peace!

[kellexplainsitall]

Oh man, remember that time I disappeared for like a week before the Boston Marathon, which I barely finished? Let’s rewind. Y’all know I love some chronological order.

On Thursday, around 2:30, our office decided we were going to be closed on Friday. YAY! We had originally had a half day, so Tim decided to take the whole day off, and we decided to hit the road to WB on Thursday night. I was slightly overwhelmed, as I had nothing packed, so I just packed everything.

We arrived at my parents, who weren’t home, around 9, and I went to bed pretty much immediately.

On Friday, I went for an easy run around WB, then we dropped the dog off at Tim’s mom’s, then we got on the road. We hit a ton of traffic, and didn’t get to Ronnie’s until late afternoon. The gang was out eating a late lunch (at 4 p.m.) so Tim and I had our own happy hour and dinner. They finally arrived home around 7, and we spent the next 2 (for me) hours hanging out.

I went to bed around 9, and slept pretty well until the rising sun woke up around 6. I dilly dallied for a bit, and my mom and I went for an easy, enjoyable run near the water. Once back, we showered and ate breakfast, and then my parents, Tim, my sister and I headed into the city. We checked into our hotel (the room was my birthday! I thought that was a good sign! It wasn’t!) and Ubered to the expo.

This was my third Boston, and I have never seen the expo like this. We had to wait at least a half hour to even get inside, and once inside, there was even more waiting. It was insane. We finally got inside, picked up a few things, including my bib, official shirt (the woman who gave me mine was from Harrisburg! I thought that was a good sign! It wasn’t!) and jacket, as well as a couple of extras, and got the hell out of there.

We were all famished, so we stopped at a sports bar for some apps, and then my mom and I swung by the Nike store and RW store, where I got to meet Bart Yasso- very cool.

The five of us went back to the hotel and relaxed, and then headed to dinner. We had reservations at a Mexican place, which was very good. Post-dinner, we said goodbye, and Tim and I had one drink at the bar and then he watched a movie while I went to bed.

Sunday, we slept in, and then I went for an easy run and Tim and I walked and got breakfast. We also stopped by the Harpoon Brewery, and then relaxed at the hotel a bit before grabbing pizza at our now usual pre-marathon place. We were done eating before 7, so Tim got some oysters, and at that point, I was cranky about how much we had been walking and how tired I was, so we went back to the hotel and I went right to bed.

I think that is the best I have ever slept the night before a marathon. I was out cold. In the morning, I wrote my mantra on my wrist. “I carry your heart.” When things got tough out there, I wanted to think of all the people who were with me along this journey. It’s from the e.e. cummings poem.

I awoke with my alarm, got ready, picked up the shuttle at the hotel and got to the buses, where I met Rory and Amanda. We dropped off our gear, and got on a bus immediately. However, our bus elected to take a scenic route and we got kinda lost, so that was mildly stressful.Once in the village, we just laid around in a tent and peed a lot. It felt long and short, I don’t know how else to explain it. Once we were called to start lining up, Amanda and I went, and then we waited in another porta potty line, and I am so grateful she stayed with me to the last second.

It was hot. Really, really hot. But it was hot last year and I crushed it! HA.

I watched my pace for the first 5K, and backed off as much as I could. It’s a very crowded start, and downhill, so its hard to slow down. By the time I hit the 5K timing mat, I was drenched in sweat. Like running at noon on the 4th of July drenched.

I slowed down. I hit the 10K – still taking water at every aid station- and was really struggling. I slowed down again.

At mile 7, I walked. I texted Tim that I was ok, but I was really struggling with the heat. I ran/walked for a bit. I hit the 10-miler in 1:20 and change. I realized I was no longer sweating, and had goosebumps, which terrified me. I then crossed the half in 1:50 and change.

I told myself just go sub-4.

EL OH EL.

The heat was getting worse and I was feeling terrible. I was nauseous, dizzy and confused. I tried to run as much as I could- but my goal was to just keep moving forward. Tim was at mile 23, and I was so grateful. I knew I was close to the finish, but I teared up. I was so tired, so beat up and felt so terrible. I wanted to throw up and lay down. But it was Boston. I was finishing it. The thought of quitting never occurred to me.

My parents were at mile 25, I missed them (of course), but my mom later told me people were going down left and right. I saw a lot of people go down myself. I just kept reminding myself to keep moving forward. Walk. Jog. Run. I finally crossed in 4:14. My second-slowest marathon, second to that time I had no iron in my body. I felt so awful. I wanted my medal, so I kept walking.

And then I sat down. A kind volunteer told me I needed to get up. And I said I didn’t think I could. I felt like I was going to pass out. I got wheeled to the med tent, where I had to wait for a cot, and then I violently puked my guts out.

GOOD TIMES.

I told the doctor that I was just trying to get my money’s worth. I am a riot.

I told them I could be discharged  - there were people waiting that were in worse condition than me. fortunately, since I was in the med tent, they let Tim and my family in. I had to get my gear bag, but I just didn’t think I could do it. I felt so weak. So they wheeled me to gear check. Hey, thanks!

I got my bag, and Tim and I were fortunate to get a cab immediately. We went to the hotel, I screamed and showered, and then just laid in bed for an hour. I just wanted a break.

After that, we went to meet everyone for dinner, then we had drinks with friends of mine, then I passed out immediately.

I didn’t feel too bad yesterday. A little sore and sunburnt, but okay. I did the elliptical for a bit in the hotel to get my legs moving, and then we were in the car from 8 to 3:30. The best part of the day was getting Miles! It was so fun to see him.

Once home, it was getting caught up on work, errands and chores. It was so good to be back. And now, back to reality.

I don't know what's next for me. I may be done with marathons for a while. After two really  bad ones in a row, I don't really know what I am doing.