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#This gift comic is brought to you by soreness and 3 hours of sleep;;;
lintulady · 3 years
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Man two candy related birthdays in a row, what luck!
@jetsam-kisa
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iamanartichoke · 3 years
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Fic prompt: If you feel like doing another hurt/comfort with Mobius, I would love a version of that end scene where Loki's freaking out but it actually is our Mobius. So Mobius listens to everything Loki has to say, and then they just kind of...take a breath, I suppose, before whatever they're going to do to fight Kang - perhaps Loki gets some tea, and/or an actual meal, a little sleep maybe (has he eaten since that cake on the train or slept since that brief nap in ep 2??), or whatever comfort-y stuff you want - I just need that sweet fic healing lmao.
@scintillatingshortgirl19 Thank you for the prompt and I hope you like it! <3
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Summary: Takes place at the end of episode 6, where instead of saying "Who are you?" Mobius knows Loki and they pick up from where they left off in the void. Word Count: 1956 Author’s notes: I'm not feeling super confident with these prompts, so please don't judge me bear with me as I dust off my little writer-brain gears and try to find my footing with these new characters and characterizations.
Completed prompts.
*
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mobius is saying, holding his hands up, but Loki can’t stop talking. The words are spilling from him; he’s tripping over them, and from the look on Mobius’s face Loki knows he’s not making sense, but still, he can’t stop.
“He’s set on war,” Loki babbles. “We need to prepare, Mobius.”
“Hang on.” When Loki pauses to take a breath, Mobius reaches out and places his hands on Loki’s shoulders. It’s almost comical, the way he needs to reach, as Loki towers over him. Yet Loki feels very small, too, and doesn’t protest the contact. “You’re speaking faster than my brain can process words. Breathe, okay? Start at the beginning.”
Loki doesn’t know when the beginning was. It could have been the moment he’d leapt up and grabbed Sylvie’s arm before she could land a fatal blow to their enemy; it could have been all those days (or months, or hours, Loki has no idea; time, for him, has completely ceased to exist) ago that he’d landed in a Midgardian desert and the TVA immediately swarmed upon him.
“You’re not understanding me.” Frustration colors Loki’s tone. “There’s no time to stop; he’s - they’re - coming.”
“You’re right, I’m not understanding you.” Mobius lets go of Loki’s shoulders and rubs the back of his neck. “I want to, but you gotta slow down and fill me in, okay?”
“Maybe we should take him somewhere,” says B-15. Loki had barely noticed her but now he steps back, his gaze flicking from her to Mobius, taking in the confusion on both of their faces.
“You don’t look so good,” B-15 adds, taking in Loki’s appearance. He must be a sight, he realizes; his hair is matted and tangled and he feels grimy, his skin caked with so much dirt and blood from injuries he doesn’t remember getting.
But, what difference does it make? Loki turns back to Mobius, desperate. “Mobius, listen to me. Sylvie and I -”
“Come on.” Mobius cuts him off. He moves in, taking one of Loki’s arms. “You can tell me everything, okay, Loki? I just need you to calm down and to come with me, preferably before you pass out. Hauling around a five hundred pound demigod wasn’t on my to-do list today.”
Loki bites back a sharp retort. He’s vaguely aware of B-15 taking his other arm, and it’s only once Loki’s shoulders slump and he allows himself to be led away from the shelves that the exhaustion hits him. He’s been running high on adrenaline for hours, and now that he’s moving slowly, supported on either side, all of that energy seems to drain from him at once. His knees buckle.
“Careful,” Mobius says. Were it not for him and B-15 holding him up, Loki is certain he would have collapsed. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on placing one foot in front of the other, not caring where they’re going. The archives, the time theater, one place is the same as another.
They move through halls that are bustling with activity, minutemen running and disembodied voices crackling over speakers. They don’t know it’s pointless, no amount of hunters in the field will matter or make a difference.
He thinks he says so, or perhaps he just imagines he does. Neither Mobius nor B-15 acknowledge him, at any rate; they only keep moving and after awhile, they arrive at the dormitories, where Loki has not been since the first day Mobius brought him here as an official TVA employee.
“Why are we here?” Loki asks, confused.
“So you can get a shower and a change of clothes,” Mobius says simply, “and then we can have some coffee and you can tell me what happened after the void.”
Loki sighs, and then nods, resisting the urge to insist that everything else could wait (until when?), because Mobius isn’t understanding the precariousness of the situation, but he knows it won’t do any good.
“Fine,” he says instead, giving up. The sooner he does what Mobius asks, the sooner Mobius will listen.
He’d not realized just how badly he needed that shower and change of clothes until he’s scrubbed the dirt and blood from his skin and allowed the hot water to beat over his sore muscles and rapidly-forming bruises. For lack of anything else to wear, he puts on a clean suit, fastening the cuffs firmly around his wrists and buttoning the collar up to his neck.
He’s sick of this outfit; he never wants to see it again but, without his magic, he has no other choice.
In the dormitory kitchen, Mobius is brewing a pot of coffee. He looks up when Loki walks in, and his mouth quirks in a half smile. “Better,” he says, “but you could still probably use some sleep and a meal.”
“Stop fussing,” Loki snaps, irritated with Mobius’s sudden desire to hover over him like a governess hovering over a petulant child who won’t eat his peas. “I hate coffee, by the way.”
“You’ve never had my coffee,” Mobius retorts, sounding unbothered. “Just sit down, okay? You still look like hell, is my point. When’s the last time anyone fussed over you, anyway?”
Loki makes a scoffing noise as he drops down into a chair at one of the small kitchen tables. “I’m sure my mother did at some point, I don’t remember.” Actually, he remembers very well that it was always his mother who looked after him when he was sick or tired or lonely, until he’d grown too old to allow himself to seek her out for comfort.
But he doesn’t want to think of his mother, who is lost to him and perhaps lost to the real Loki as well, the sacred timeline’s Loki, if enough time has progressed and Malekith has indeed run her through with a sword and left her bleeding out on the palace floor.
Loki shudders as he thinks of it, remembering the sight of his mother’s lifeless body projected onto a screen. He’d been helpless to stop it, utterly powerless, just as ultimately he’d been powerless to stop Sylvie.
His mother, dead. Sylvie, lost to him. The timeline destroyed - the end of everything. The weight of it all crashes over him; had he not already been sitting, the sheer despair of it would have brought him to his knees.
Loki drops his head into his hands instead, thinking back to Mobius’s words that first day: you were born to cause pain and suffering and death.
In retrospect, Loki knows that Mobius was merely fighting dirty, using whatever words necessary to break Loki down - the ends justify the means, and all that - but he wasn’t goddamn wrong.
How could Loki have ever believed, even for a second, that he could possibly change?
We write our own destinies now, he’d told that creepy little clock hologram, and she’d smirked, seen right through the words because they were rubbish and they both knew it.
Good luck with that.
Loki doesn’t realize he’s crying until Mobius sets down a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. He lifts his head and rubs tiredly at his tear-stained cheeks, unable to meet Mobius’s gaze as Mobius sits down across from him with his own mug.
“Here,” Mobius adds, reaching into his inside blazer pocket. He pulls out a slim, red candy stick wrapped in plastic and hands that to Loki as well.
Loki stares at it. “What is this?”
“Something better than grapes or nuts,” Mobius says dryly. “It’s a Twizzler. Popular Earth candy. I’d say don’t tell anyone I’ve stashed a bunch, but …” He trails off and shrugs, glancing around at the kitchen with forced amusement. “Doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”
He pulls out a second Twizzler and unwraps the plastic, then bites into the candy. Loki watches him for a moment, and then imitates him. “Gross,” he says, after he’s taken a bite. It’s a very bland candy, with texture not unlike rubber. “Think I prefer grapes.”
“Well, maybe Twizzlers are an acquired taste,” says Mobius.
Loki finishes the Twizzler anyway, and then takes a sip of coffee. He does usually dislike coffee, but either he’s hungrier than he’d realized or Mobius has a gift, because this cup is actually quite good.
“Okay, now let’s go back to the beginning,” Mobius prompts, after a silence. He drums his fingertips against the table. “What happened? I’m assuming you were able to enchant the murder cloud?”
All of the words that had been spilling from Loki’s lips before, so desperate to be released, now get stuck somewhere in his throat. He wraps his hands around his mug and takes another sip of coffee, wondering idly how long it had been since he’d actually had something warm to drink. Or eat, for that matter. The train on Lamentis, perhaps. A moment ago, a lifetime ago.
“We did,” he finally says. Despite the coffee, a chill breaks out over his skin and he sets the mug down, choosing to fold his arms as if to fold into himself for warmth. “We made it past Alioth and found him - the one who’s responsible for all of this.”
Just like that, the words are no longer stuck. Loki pours out the entire story, starting from when he and Sylvie had crossed the threshold into the citadel and ending with his own tumble back through the tempad’s portal into the TVA.
But he omits the kiss, only mentioning that Sylvie had distracted him to get the upper hand. He’ll never speak of it - either that Sylvie had used his feelings for her in order to betray him, or that he’d fallen for it (of course he’d fallen for it; for a few seconds there, he’d let himself believe - but, it doesn’t matter, it wasn’t real, and there are bigger problems now).
“She closed the portal before I could get back through it,” Loki says. He notices that he’s twisting his fingers together so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. He forces himself to stop. “I can only imagine she finished the job after that because, well.” He barks a laugh that sounds, even to his own ears, broken and pathetic. He used to be so good at maintaining a cool, calm facade but it, like so many other things, had been steadily breaking apart, piece by piece. There is very little left to guard the scared little ice runt who trembles at the core.
“Look at the timeline,” he adds; he laughs again and rubs his eyes against a fresh wave of tears.
For a long time, neither of them say anything. Loki finishes his coffee and Mobius eats two more Twizzlers before another word is spoken.
“So we lost.” Mobius’s voice is hollow. “We lost before we could begin to fight.”
“I’m sorry.”
Mobius shrugs. He runs a hand over his short, gray hair before letting out a laugh of his own. “He Who Remains,” he repeats, more to himself than to Loki.
Loki allows a beat to pass. “We have to try to fix it, Mobius.” The only way to ease the weight of his guilt, Loki knows, is if he goes back and tries to make it right - or to die trying.
“How are we supposed to do that?” It’s Mobius’s turn to rub his eyes. His shoulders slump and for a moment, he looks very tired. Older. Loki studies him and wonders, fleetingly, if the real Mobius is someone’s father. “I don’t even know where to begin, Loki.”
“I might.” Loki straightens. Deep down, beneath the anguish, a seed of determination has taken hold and he focuses on that; a lifeline. “But you’ll need to trust me.”
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On Mourning...
Finally after giving myself 8 days to sleep, cry, isolate myself, ghost people, be angry and get high, I found the words for this. Maybe. This is the first moment in about a week or two that I’ve felt some sense of clarity or lucid. There comes a point in mourning, though, where the constant gravity you feel becomes exhausting and you start trying to find answers for the questions that are replaying in your head like that one TikTok of the dancing nurses to that one song. You know the one. Grappling with multiple types of mourning this week has been a lesson in tough love. I experienced On Mourning...the mourning of childhood. My own, being back in a place where I can flow through the CTA as naturally as blood in a vein but being painfully aware of how much the city has changed. The places that influenced my interests in art/music/literature or how to carry myself are no longer around. They’ve been replaced by something new, a luxury condo, some weird ethnic fusion restaurant that still somehow serves ridiculously under seasoned food or another holding space for the growing trend of pop-up stores. I can’t help but feel as if this is signalling the beginning of the end of my time-sensitive participation in youth culture. The trip was mostly spent reuniting with my siblings who are approaching adulthood after spending close to six years in self-imposed exile 3,000 miles away. I can’t help but feel that I missed out on the crucial moments of adolescence and I feel guilty. Ultimately I know I made the best decision for me which in turn is the best for them, but this doesn’t help me reconcile with this unnecessary feeling of guilt. The best way to describe it is like having a particular kind of buyer's remorse. Freedom comes at a cost. The price I paid to be able to do whatever the fuck I want (read: Do what it takes for me to live true to myself, however I need) was having to miss out on most of their adolescence. The one of the most impactful and trying times of life. As well as a monthly payment of 585 USD due the 1st but paid on the ___. It sucks taint to have to shell out nearly 2⁄3 of my paycheck but being able to sleep in a room, in a bed, with heat is pretty chill. Taking a few years to learn about myself and the gift of generational trauma in order to break the cycle of abuse in order to provide my siblings with the tools to do the same is also pretty fucking chill.
            On January 22nd, around three-and a half hours into my 3 hour flight from Chicago to Seattle, I found out my friend passed in a very tragic and sudden way. They were a comic. They were an activist.They had the chisme. We performed together, we got drunk and talked shit together, we tried to work through issues relating to dating and professional shitstorms. Since their death, I’ve felt every emotion except for funny. I started writing this while I was feeling a lot of negative emotions but now I feel like that’s not what Stephanie would’ve wanted. As an Indigenous femme, Stephanie knew all too well the struggles with depression and self-loathing that comes with being a femme of color in the primarily white world of the Pacific Northwest. As a queer, Stephanie could relate to the crushing and straight up abysmal dating life that comes with being a queer of color. I don’t believe that Stephanie would want something dedicated to them seeped in so much sadness and unfounded feelings of despair, they embodied the complex beauty of being fiercely vulnerable. What I’m gonna miss most about them is the laughter we shared. They were one of the people I felt comfortable taking comedic risks with and they brought something out in me that I never thought I could for myself. They would inspire this freeness in people around them. They were my friendly competition. They pushed me to think harder and farther than I have in order to get to the meat of a joke or subject, whether they know this or not. Their calm resolve and warm laughter is something that will be sorely missed by everyone who knew them.
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guardiandae · 8 years
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OKAY it’s time for that write up about my trip to Boston
aka Why I’m Glad I’m Still Alive and also Dae Makes Bad Life Choices And Needs To Be Grounded :c 
(long, long post)
okay so, my friend H takes a trip down to Boston every year to visit her friend D who goes to college there. She invited me to go a few days beforehand, and as luck would have it I managed to arrange to have Friday & Saturday off work, and Sunday closing shift, so I could make it down there and back.
Of course, I had a runny nose and stuff beforehand... and then the night before (Thursday night, I think) I had a really hard time at work bc I felt feverish... I got home and my temp went up from 99.6 (which is already 100% a fever for me, my temp runs low) to 101.3 during the night. I kept waking up every three hours, and I had to get a bag of ice to press against my head. I went to bed early but slept in longer than I expected so I got like 13 hours of sleep and felt a lot better in the morning, aside from a sore throat. Actually, my throat does this fun thing where from time to time, it will close up on me and I can’t breathe. It can happen even from drinking water. So I took cough syrup and my throat closed up. Yikes. No more cough syrup for me, just cold & flu tablets! I can’t remember the other incident, maybe I drank something harsh, but I remember it did that twice, two times in two days. So, yeah. Gotta be careful what I drink with this sore throat.
Friend wants me to spend Friday night at her house so we can leave at 3am Saturday. So I go to H’s house, with her boyfriend T. My throat is like, raw as fuck. We hang out, they pack, and we all take a nap before we leave. I get like another 3 hours of sleep, then we all get up and hit the road.
We pick up T’s friend, S.  My friend H keeps trying to hook me up with S despite the fact that I am 1. gay 2. asexual 3. not interested in douchebags. And she’s been teasing me about the fact that, S and I will have to share a bed at the hotel. My god. Mind you, the plan she has in Boston is to take me to a strip club and I’m like, sdgkdfkgjd. No? Maybe. No.
We stop at a gas station and I get myself a big powerade for my RAW AS FUCK throat. Swallowing is seriously painful at this point. My friend swaps seats to sit beside me in the back, so now T and S are in the front. THEY FUCKING START CHAINSMOKING ALL THE WAY DOWN. So they have their windows cracked, freezing cold air pouring in, secondhand smoke making my eyes water and lungs burn, all the way down. Maybe at most they would stop for two minutes and then, boom, another FUCKING cigarette. On top of that, they listened to really gross rap music on the way down, like violent, sexually-explicit, drug-endorsing songs that were just honestly annoying lyrics aside, total crap, lol.
My friend and I show each other memes (she pronounces it me-me and I think it’s too funny to correct her) all the way down. We arrive at her friend D’s campus at about 6am. He has keys to all the buildings and has to make rounds, so we’re going to walk with him all across his campus.
D is a really interesting dude. My friend H told me, “he’s a bible-thumper” beforehand and I was like, eh. great. But he’s this 40-ish year old guy going to a religious college studying to be a minister. He’s super friendly and considerate as soon as we meet him. It’s 6am in January, fairly warm considering the time of year, but I’m still in just my hoodie and SICK, so while I was kind of excited for the experience, my body is so not. We’re going from building to building, up flights of stairs and back down again, and I am wheezing. My voice is pretty rough at this point too.
But let’s talk about the school, and the setting, because... I love it.
In Maine (my state) the trees here are mostly pines, maples, oaks, etc.
But in Boston, I’m not sure what kind of trees they might be, but my gosh. It’s a grey, chilly day (my favorite weather 100% honestly, too bad I was sick) and the trees are bare. Their branches are all twisted in different directions, like the fingers on an old man. Ever seen those kind of forests from creepy horror movies? They are just like that and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Most of the buildings on campus are very old, so some of them still have old fashioned latches, like the thumb-latches in my grandfather’s house.
The other thing I really loved about the campus, is that the students attending are actually very liberal and diverse, despite the religious focus. As D put it later, the other three people in our group, H, T, and S, doubled the population of straight (and cis) students by being on campus. Haha.
Anyway, I survive running around campus, and then we head down to catch the Green Line subway into town. At this point, I really wish I had realized we were going to be gone from the car for several hours, because I would've at least grabbed my hat. :c
This is the first time I've ever been on anything like a subway and I'm so glad that we had D with us to be our guide, because it was so confusing. The car was packed with people because of the Women's March going on. I don't know how this compares to other subways, but this went pretty fast and had a lot of hills and turns, and with every change in momentum I'm hanging onto the rail for dear fucking life trying not to fall over. My friend H has a lot of anxiety, especially around crowds of people, and riding this subway itself, so she is SHAKING and trying really hard to just hold on and get through the ride, and so am I. We get off a big station and decide to go up and walk the rest of the way instead of waiting for the next car, because my friend and I are curious to see the march going on.
We ended up walking around a lottt down all of these different side streets. H, T and S wanted to find a big tall building to go all the way to the top floor and take pictures, so we kept trying to enter different buildings at random, and most of them were locked and one we were politely told to leave, lol.
The whole walking around event was kind of more random than planned... we ended up at Bruins arena which I think was my friend's only actual goal, so she could buy her brother a gift. We saw tons of protesters everywhere and I got one of the pink hats from a nice lady who brought extras. But after that, our wandering was pretty aimless. We headed towards Boston market (still trying to find tall buildings) and accidentally stumbled onto the Holocaust memorial.
H and I were like 'oh... damn' and of course, I had to go in. The memorial consists of four towers made of panes of glass, with steam inside rising up. When I walked into the first one, the panes of glass had quotes from survivors of the Holocaust written on both sides in side, and on every single pane of glass, going up to the sky, there were the serial numbers the nazis tattooed onto people. I took a few pictures, but once I entered that first tower I put my phone away because it just didn't feel right. We walked through and read each quote... I was trying not to cry because the two guys with us (D excluded) were pretty douchey and I wasn't sure they even would, y'know, care. But when I read one of the quotes about the homosexuals being put into the death camps, I definitely cried and I was like, yeah. This is why we fight. This is why we can't stop fighting.
When we left, H was pretty shaken too (the quotes about children were the ones that got to her the most, I think) and D suggested that we head to the farmer's market to try to lighten up the mood. While we were walking there, S decides to ask a question, in a suspiciously condescending tone of voice, "I wonder what the founding fathers would think about all of this."
The rest of us were like, ???  "Think about what?"
S: "You know, the protests that are going on right now."
Guys, my voice was half gone but you know I clapped back.
"They'd probably think that they're exercising their CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS??? What do you think the founding fathers did against the British???"
Then he said something about how, people keep pushing and pushing for more rights, and he thinks that's a bad thing because it just ends up dividing people into more and more different groups and takes away rights from others. At this point I was like, HOLY SHIT, this fucking white boy is one of those people who thinks that EQUAL RIGHTS means his rights are somehow being TAKEN AWAY from HIM. Like, you DO realize that my great-great grandmother and your great-great grandmother didn't have the fucking right to vote??? and in MY lifetime, I had to go fucking vote on my  right to get MARRIED??? It didn't take away SHIT from poor helpless straight white men, it just GAVE more people the SAME FUCKING RIGHTS. HOLY FUCK.
So anyway we headed on to the market area, checked out the Newbury Comics store and I was exciiited bc I found a cute pair of knee-high socks to buy (my new aesthetic). But while in pursuit of my knee-highs, I wandered too close to the Dick's bar, and at this point everyone was ready to drink/eat and had been searching for a bar for a while. There were sooo many to choose from, including really nice looking Irish bars, and historic old bars, which I actually wanted to check out. But which bar did we go to? The fucking cock-themed bar.
They ordered drinks. I just sat by them kind of uncomfortably bc everything is not only "I love dicks" but the mascot is a sleezy overweight balding man and the waitress makes fart jokes. Like. For real. But I'm watching the tv, making small talk with D (who is awesome) and H, while S and T get drinks and fries. Some guy brings his CHILD into this establishment, and is apparently very familiar with their theme bc he plays right along with the waitress's fart jokes like he sees her every Saturday or something. What the hell. Then the party at the opposite end starts putting on these huge condom hats made out of white paper. I can hear a child crying on the other side, maybe the same kid. Why the fuck. And then the waitress starts kind of badgering ME now, like, "Why are you just sitting there without a drink?" I tell her, in my really hoarse voice, "If I have any alcohol I'm pretty sure I will stop breathing" and she's just like "Well it's not like you can't have a water or a juice"  (me: where the fuck is there water or juice advertised ANYWHERE on this shitty menu??? also the food was ridiculously overpriced otherwise I would've been happy to order >_< )  and then I look over and realize that, S has already had two beers, but he JUST ordered a fucking THIRD. Now I'm angry and I tell my friend I don't wanna sit in this (shitty) bar all day, so I'm going to head to the comic store again.
Comic store is right across the street.... but... I'm legitimately pissed off right now, so as soon as I step outside I'm like, actually, lol, fuck off, bye, I'm gone.
And I just keep walking, back the way we came in. I sit down at a bench for a while, half thinking that D or H had followed me, but nobody had. So I'm like, cool, and contemplating actually buying a train ticket home if I had to. But I'm sick as fuck and my legs are killing me and my lungs are wheezing and it's cold and I know that no train goes all the fucking way home, so I'm like, :)))
I decided to go and see something that *I* wanted to see so I looked at my phone and saw the Samuel Adams statue was nearby. They texted me "where are you" and I told them Sam Adams (of course, knowing them they probably looked for a damn bar). But I got lost getting to the statue, lmao, bc it was RIGHT BESIDE ME and I was expecting something larger and headed towards a crowd of people instead. By the time I circled back, I hung up on like three phone calls and ignored several texts, just texted back again "sam adams" when they asked where I was. Took a picture of the statue, then sat down again and waited. Still more texts and calls to not respond to. Finally I was really annoyed but got up to go back to the bar and was thinking, if they aren't here, I'm fucking off again, lol. But they were there and ... my friend H was in tears.
Uh oh. Nice going, Dae.
I put my frustration aside and just fell back into step... she didn't talk to me for a little while. I felt like such an asshole. It was only later I saw some texts that hadn't come through then... half of them already had their phones dead, the others were almost dead, and they'd texted me that they were going to head to the car without me and pick me up in a couple hours. Of courese, my phone was low battery too. I almost fucking stranded myself in Boston, extremely sick, with no cellphone, please ground me.
We went back to the subway (there was another station right near to us, thankfully, so no long walk), and rode all the way back to our original station. Then we had to trek back UP the hill we came down from the campus... I was wheezing hard.
Everyone crashed in D's room for a while. I collapsed on the couch and they all went into the bathroom to smoke pot. I considered leaving to the car to get my phone charger but was like, if I do they'll probably think I bailed again. and then I could literally hear them talking about me, and S saying, "I bet when we come out, she'll be gone again" and I just... felt so angry at him but also like such an asshole bc I'm sick and having a miserable time when I WANT to have fun but instead I'm being a bitch and I can't help it. And they want to drink and get high and I don't like either of those things even when I'm NOT sick as a dog and barely able to breathe, so fuck no I'm not doing that, thanks.
I think after that we finally went to our hotel bc it was check in time (3pm). My friend had reserved the room but they wouldn't let her pay because her card didn't have her name on it, and the others only had cash, so I stepped up to put the room on my card. It made me feel better about being there at all, because they literally wouldn't have had a place to stay (this was a fairly long drive away from Boston).
We went out to eat and this is where S shows once again how much of an asshole he is...
I'm not sure WHERE this came from, but out of the blue while we're sitting in this restaurant, S says something like, "If a drunk girl tells me to fuck her and then she passes out, I can tap that without getting in trouble."
Yeah... I'm positive I didn't remember that right but the statement he made didn't make ANY sense.
All four of us (D, H, T, and myself) were like, ???? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO. That is RAPE.
D and I start trying to explain, for one, UNCONSCIOUS = no, and two, in this hypothetical she gave her "consent" while drunk, and you cannot legally consent while drunk!
"But what if we're both drunk"
We're trying to explain that technically neither could consent, it's a risky situation, and then he goes,
"So what if my ex texts me and says 'come tie me up and have your way with me'."
D is like, "I can't even begin with how many variables there are in that situation."
Me: "It depends. Is she sober? Is it actually HER texting? Is she going to say no when you get there?"
S: "She'd have to prove that it wasn't her texting..."
We kept talking about this and trying to explain like, the limits of consent and finally T is like, "Why are we talking about this?"
D and I: "Because it came up and it's worth talking about! There are a lot of people who don't understand."
But anyway, we pretty quickly dropped the topic, but I cannot get over the fact that S randomly said that he'd fuck an unconscious woman. And I am expected to share a bed with him at the hotel.
I was super super pissed with S at this point like, this actual FUCKBOY, first he thinks that equal rights means his rights get taken away, now he's stated that he'd rape somebody?? like?? get the fuck away from me, permanently.
We had to drive D back to his room and it's dark outside now.
I haven't yet mentioned, but as beautiful as Boston is to walk around, the roads are crazy and driving is a fucking nightmare. There are some normal streets but almost everything connects directly onto a highway (at least where we were... and I'm not sure if highway is the right word bc fuck if I know anything about driving but they are SCARY multi-lane roads). The highways are like 4, 3, or 5 fucking lanes of people driving like there's no speed limit, cars constantly switching lanes and assholes flying past us.
All of that is scary enough, but worse is that:
- T is the one driving, because H is too scared to drive in Boston traffic. - T does not have a license. - The car's left blinker doesn't fucking work, so switching lanes to the left is a deathwish. - Did I mention the drinking and getting high? Yeah. - Also, the chainsmoking resumes and I am in fucking misery.
We manage to drop D off, and they had mentioned the fact that they HAVE the lightbulb for the back blinker, but didn't take the time to install is before leaving. D had mentioned that he could probably do it. So I'm like, hey, how about we do that?  D takes a look and realizes that it'd take some time to take apart, but he'd be able to do it with some assistance. T is like, nah it'd take some work, and I'm disheartened (bc I want this car to be as legal as fucking possible bc if we get pulled over I'm 100% sure that I'm fucked on getting home, best case scenario. Worst case scenario, I might charged with something just for being with these guys. Idk if that's even rational but honestly.) but they agree to just deal with it later.
We get back to the hotel and H and I decide to go swimming in the pool. It's honestly one of the highlights of the trip for me bc I rarely get to go swimming, so we enjoyed ourselves for a while, talking about how T and S were kind of annoying both of us. The guys were getting alcohol and stuff while we swam, and they drank some and then joined us. It was kind of funny bc H had worn her bikini bottom but also swim trunks over them, and S didn't have anything to wear to swim in, so she gave him her trunks. They fit him so tightly lmaoo. The guys were splashing around, goofing off, and at this point I'm less angry and more just like, letting it all go, I know I don't like S whatsoever, he's fucking dumb, but I don't want to be hostile and I'm trying as much as possible to not be a huge bitch and a wet blanket, so it's whatever. We joked around a lot, and had fun, and finally got out of the pool when it was closing. But it was really awkward bc they had to go to change and T had gone into the women's room with H so I had to stand outside and wait to change my clothes... and I could hear H yelling at him about... peeing wildly everywhere? Oh my god. I don't even wanna know. It was one of those moments where I was like, there is nudity beyond both of these doors and I am probably forever going to be not comfortable with that. It's kind of a bizarre and shitty realization that everyone else is on a different plane of existence. Like, I'm the weird one because I don't wanna see dicks flopping around. Huh.
Rinsed off, changed clothes, went back upstairs, blow dried my hair and flopped onto the bed. At this point, I'm physically worn down but.... not.... tired. So I'm not sure if I'm going to fall asleep. But they want to run around, and ask about the strip club plans, and my friend is like, "Dae said she didn't want to go" (which is true, I told her no because I'm very sick and felt uncomfortable about the whole idea anyway) but the guys are like, "You're killing us, we're not going?" and she's like, "Are we?" and I'm so sick and tired at this point that I'm like, "Actually yeah let's go" and get up and get dressed again, ready to impress, ready to jump in and see some ladies and titties and see how uncomfortable I feel about it all.
We get into the car, and all of us have been trying to see what the nearest strip club is... there really isn't one. What the nearest bar is... eh. We're trying to find something really close by, because the guys have been drinking and T has no LICENSE and the car blinker is broken so instead I'm like, "Where's the nearest Walmart?"  over 100 miles away jfc. "Where's the nearest target?" Less than a mile away. Awesome! My mood is UP bc we're going to Target, now this is my idea of a good time.
Yeah, no. My phone is a piece of SHIT and they refuse to even look at it, but their phone won't update fast enough while we're driving and we CAN'T FUCKING MERGE LEFT because we'll be killed in this traffic, so we have to go to the right. We see other stores and want to go to them, but the problem is, when we turned right we already missed that opportunity. And this road merges directly into a fucking interstate. And we cannot turn off of it. And now we are going 80 mph in the wrong direction and have to take the next off ramp.
For the next fucking 30 minutes at least, we are desperately trying to get our fucking phones to tell us where we are and where we need to go. Everything loops in circles, because of the highways and off ramps. We keep missing fucking turns and ending up in even more of a tangled mess. Our phones did not charge up much at the hotel and are on the verge of dying once again and we cannot fucking turn LEFT. T and S are getting frustrated, I'm convinced I'm going to fucking die, and H is having an anxiety attack, texting me like, "This is my car and if we crash everyone is going to get hurt and it's my fault" and I'm like... can we please fucking stop somewhere and just fix the fucking light.
By the time we finally make it back to where we belong, we just go straight to the hotel. So fucking much for strip clubs, or bars, or even Target. Fuck that noise. We aren't driving anywhere after all, we all agree on that and we're all really frustrated and stressed.
I ask again like, even if it takes a while we should really fix the light bc driving down to Mass we had the same problem, and we're going to keep having that problem until we fix it, but the guys are like, we'd have to take apart the whole back end, if it were a quick fix we'd have done it already. In the daylight it'll be okay, it's really just at night that's the worst because all they see is our tail lights, and a lack of left blinker means someone might get killed. So I'm like, alright and let it go.
We get snacks from the vending machines, and crash in the hotel room again. Despite all the hyped talk from the guys about drinking and drugs (seriously, S was like, "Let's go  get some ecstacy or heroin" before we left on that horrific ride, and H was like "UHHHH NO, NOT HAPPENING."  He also talked about forcing girls to choke on his dick, so if anyone was wondering if he learned anything from the Consent Discussion, the answer is, probably no. And people wonder why I have sex anxiety jfc.)
Thankfully, I crashed on one bed, and H, T, and S all crashed on the other bed... probably bc they didn't want to catch my germs tbh. I heard S saying "bacterial pneumonia" to his phone.
Sleep was... hellish. I woke up at 4am, SHAKING uncontrollably and had to turn up the heat for a while. I think I was running a fever so it didn't help me at all.. after that I had to press a cold drink against my forehead and didn't fall asleep again until 6am, and we all get up around 8:50am.
Btw, the hotel was pretty shitty... a bunch of ants were under my shoes at the indoor pool when I picked my shoes up... they were coming up from the vents because I guess I stepped in something sugary. H freaked out a bit. Then in our 3rd floor room, there was another of those ants on my pillow. Nice. The breakfast service was shitty. The only edible thing for me was the apple juice, the rest of it was awful cheap stuff. We went to burger king instead, which H had wanted for breakfast anyway. My voice was nearly gone at this point and I had to type my order onto my phone and let the cashier read it. The burger king was also super shitty lmao it was under construction but the bathrooms were just, awful and unkept. We realized we had to head straight home now in order to get back in time for everything H and I had to do, so we got straight onto the highway.
Once again... terrifying traffic, and the difficulty of merging to the left. Every time T had to merge, I had to close my eyes and post facebook statuses like "pray for me because I am going to die." At this point, T and S are like, "We should've just fixed the light before we left" and I am like, internally fucking screaming BECAUSE I SAID THAT ALREADY OH MY GOD. Also, CUE THE CHAINSMOKING AGAIN.
I got dropped off directly at my work a couple hours before my shift, and then worked my closing shift.
Remember, at this point I've had very little sleep and fevers every night since Friday... my voice is just a whisper, I spent hours walking around Boston, hours awake at night, I should be exhausted but I am wide the fuck awake. By the time I finally got home, I still didn't even fall asleep until almost 2am.
So yeah.... I'm not even sure how to summarize my trip to Boston and how it made me feel. Everything was really random and accidental. It took a long time for it to occur to me, holy shit I am in BOSTON, historic Boston, and should be taking pictures and seeing the Freedom Trail and actually interesting stuff like that, but it didn't seem to occur to any of us until the day we had to go back and H wwas like, "I wish I'd taken more pictures."  I wish I had too, especially of the march, but since I ws sick before I even left, I actually wasn't even aware that the marches were going on, I was completely out of the loop. It's something I was super excited about and would've never been able to go to normally, but somehow I accidentally happened to end up there at the right time.
In all it was, frustrating, miserable, beautiful, surprisingly nice and diverse, historic, terrifying, stupid, and extremely lucky. Lucky that we managed to arrange the trip on short notice, lucky that we didn't die on the way down, lucky that I happened to be there for a huge protest event that I was able to partake in at least a tiny bit, lucky that I didn't have to go to the strip club after all, lucky that we didn't get arrested, lucky that we made it back safely, lucky that I didn't chop S's dick off and shove it down his throat. I think I might've used up all of the luck for the next ten years, and I'm a bit frightened.
For those keeping score at home, 
Reasons Why Dae Needs to be Grounded:
- going on a trip with sketchy drug dealing wannabe-gangsters who are racist, transphobic, homophobic, misogynistic dumbasses - going on this trip while extremely sick - ditching my friend and the group while extremely sick, in a strange city, with all of our cell phones dying, and ignoring their calls - swimming in the pool while extremely sick (I broke the pool rules whoops) - getting BACK into the defective car with a driver who had been drinking and has no license, at night - going to work directly after this trip, while extremely sick - still trying to talk while my voice is 99% gone - not cleaning my room (it’s so messy help) - staying up late at night to type this instead of sleeping
and now my throat feels much better but I’ve 100% lost my voice and can only communicate through strained whispers and interpretive dance.
but I have tomorrow off and I plan to finally.... rest. 
assuming that I can even fall asleep.
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