thresholders

i walk into the room and i see you everywhere. i see you in the chair where you liked to read your spy novels and sip your tea. i see you by the window where you liked to watch the throngs of people move about slowly. i see you at the desk where you wrote me poems about the daring misadventures of your short-lived youth. i see you in the threshold where you would idly stand and watch me sleep. i see you on the bed where you told me i was what you wanted most in the world while holding my body close to yours. but i’m not actually seeing you; you’re not actually there. you’re gone, but at least i still have these memories of you in this room to keep the loneliness that took up residence in my empty heart company.
unforgettable

Originally posted by sugutie

◇ You’ve just waged war on renowned fuckboy Jeon Jungkook.

◇ Jungkook x reader

◇ fuckboi!au + college!au

◇ based off unforgettable by french montana just because i could lol

◇ ahsjksks I’m not dead my dudes don’t worry im just studying which is the same thing but!!! Anyway i made this because of procrastination so don’t expect another one right away lol ❤️❤️❤️💟💖💖

•••

You were proud to say that college wasn’t kicking your ass as much as it probably could. You finished three of your four essays due, completed a project that was 35% of your final grade, and managed to study for at least 10 minutes in the passed week.

And now, here you lay, your laptop perched on the bed in front of you with Netflix pulled up in the screen and a large bag of Doritos beside you. Your well-earned reward — and you’re enjoying it, too. Well, until—

“Hey!” The bubbly brunette you fondly called your roommate plummets onto your bed before you register her presence, and the presence of her red headed girlfriend who trails in after. “Guess what?”

“You and Rose decided to take a spontaneous trip to Hawaii and leave me to watch Luke Cage?” You try with a wishful smile, knowing damn well what she was about to propose as soon as she pulled up her Twitter. “A party? Really?”

“Yes!” Jennie grins brightly, shoving the screen in your face. A tweet from the man himself, Jackson Wang, is on the screen, and you barely catch the words party and insane before she yanks it back. “Jackson is throwing another party this Friday and since there’s nothing too important coming up, I demand that you attend—”

“I don’t think so,” you laugh in disbelief, turning back to your relaxing setup. “No more parties for me—”

“Oh, come on,” Jennie’s face drops as she groans, slumping her body over your back dramatically — it was times like this that her fine arts major really came out. “The last party you went to was weeks ago! The last guy that you slept with was ages ago and it was terrible and it’s making you cranky—”

“I am not cranky!” You interrupt in indignation, eyes wide. At the pointed look that’s shot at you from both girls, you deflate. “That guy wasn’t that bad. What’s your point?”

“Our point,” Rose speaks with a furrow of her eyebrows, “is that since you slept with You-Know-Who—” Her eyes narrow warningly when your mouth opens to make a Voldemort joke— “You’ve been in a slump. And it’s making you angry at everything.”

“So you think I should go to a party to get wasted and fuck someone?” You retort, rolling your eyes, “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t have to get wasted,” Jennie whines, tugging at your arm. “Look, me and Rose are going too. We’ll stay with you until you get some nice piece of meat to play with—”

Ew—

“And then you can be happy and we’ll be happy because you’re happy!” She concludes with a cheeky grin.

You ponder her offer, swimming between whether or not you should listen to your ultracrepidarian best friend. Your hesitance shows obviously on your face, and Jennie pouts. “Please? I haven’t been to a party with my best friend in weeks—”

You sigh, pulling your arms from your grip and wriggling your body to roll Jennie off of your back. “Whatever, whatever. Can I watch this in peace now?”

Squeals and whatnot ensue, but you can only roll your eyes and push your earphones in further, grabbing another handful of Doritos.

•••

Nothing had ever irritated Jeon Jungkook as much as this particular thing was.

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From the Dining Table, Pt. 2 (Ethan)

Summary: Ethan finally comes across your letter after many years and begins his journey to find you.

Word Count: 2,181

Warnings: Vomiting, mentions of vomit

Author’s Note: I finally finished part 2! It ended a little differently than I had intended just because I was accumulating a large word count so quickly and I wanted to cut it short before I lost you guys… But, this means a part 3 will ensue! This is written from Ethan’s point of view, and it involves a couple flashbacks, so I hope you guys are able to follow along. Also, “Y/L/N” means “your last name.” Please let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy! Requests are open.

Part 1


“Breaking news coming out of Hollywood this morning… Ethan Dolan reportedly calls it quits in the middle of filming his latest movie after having what sources are calling a ‘nervous breakdown.’ The former YouTube sensation-turned-A-list-actor was said to have stormed off of set yesterday unprovoked and has not been seen or heard from by family and friends since. There has been no word on how long production on the movie has been stalled for, or if Dolan will be welcomed back to the cast should he choose to return to the film. We’ll continue to report the latest updates on this story as they come in.”

I shove my headphones into my ears and crank the volume up until the shrill voice of the E! News reporter disappears, disgusted that even in LAX, one of the world’s most famous and populated airports, celebrity gossip matters more than world affairs. Pulling the brim of my baseball cap down farther over my eyes, I shift in my seat and pray that no one is paying enough attention to their surroundings to recognize me. I’m sitting in the terminal completely alone and would like to keep it that way— no security guards, no screaming fans mobbing me, no soccer moms hesitantly walking up to me asking for a picture for their ‘daughter.’ Yeah, right. I know for a fact that some of those moms go out on movie dates with their girlfriends on Friday nights just to oodle over me and it’s absolutely disgusting. Don’t they have husbands waiting for them back home?

I sigh and glance down at my jean pocket holding the piece of paper that brought me to the airport in the first place. Is the E! News reporter incorrect in saying that I stormed off of set of the movie I was contracted to film months ago? No, actually, but she is incorrect in saying that it was ‘unprovoked.’ For the last couple of years, my life has been a whirlwind of traveling, transitioning from YouTube to making movies, red carpets, parties, drugs, alcohol, girls, it never seemed to end. The life I have now is everything I could have ever wanted at eighteen years old, but as I learned over time, it didn’t come without sleepless nights and regret over losing the one person that unapologetically stood by my side since we were kids. The more opportunities I was presented with, the more fame I gained, the farther I pushed her away and for what reason, I don’t remember now. But no matter how hard I tried to rid myself of her, she never left me. She haunted my dreams and called out for me when I would least expect it. I could hear her whispering to me in the wind and I would feel her body up against mine in every bed I slept in. Time didn’t make it better; in fact, it was quite the opposite. I most recently have been plagued with images of her choosing to marry someone else, to carry someone else’s children, and in the middle of one of those visions, I decided I had had enough. That’s when I found the letter, and after spending hours reading it, re-reading it, kicking myself for putting her through so much pain, and bawling at the realization of what I had become, I dashed to the airport knowing exactly where I would find her.

A couple other people in the terminal begin to shift in their seats and look at their tickets. I rip one headphone out of my ear just in time to hear the airline employee call for the boarding of first class passengers. Grabbing my backpack and ticket, I fly to the front of the line, head down, hoping to create as little of a scene as possible.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Dolan,” the employee coos as she scans my ticket and checks my I.D. all too slowly. “What business do you have flying to Newark today?”

What business do I have? What business does she have asking that question?

“I… um… I’m paying an overdue visit to an old friend,” I mumble, trying to keep the irritation in my voice at bay.

“Ah, I see. Well, I hope you have a safe and comfortable trip back home.” She flashes a toothy smile as I take off to find my seat in the aircraft. With so much pep in her voice, I wonder how many glasses of wine she drinks at night before being able to dull the aching emptiness in her chest.

Wait, did she just say, ‘back home?’ How the hell would she have known that I… Oh god, she’s a closeted fan, too. Yep, E! News is going to sink their teeth into that headline: “An AWOL Ethan Dolan was spotted by an LAX employee boarding a plane to New Jersey, seemingly desperate to get back to his home state. What could he possibly be trying to run away from in L.A.? Or, could he be running toward something instead?”

I settle into the cushioned seat, my mind trying struggling to remember the last time I flew on a commercial aircraft. I almost forgot how to even book a ticket in the first place; having done it on a computer last, trying to confirm one on my phone on the way here proved to be even more difficult. My brain continues to search, scanning over memories in reverse chronological order until it lands on the right one, forcing up a wave of nostalgia and nausea, too:


“Y/N!” I shouted, hunched over the Mac in the living room of our dingy apartment. “Come here! I want to show you something!”

“What is it, babe?” Her voice cascaded through the air and settled on my skin, giving me goosebumps. God, how I loved her voice.

“I can’t tell you! You’ll have to come see it.”

Her slippers dragged against the carpet as she approached me from her bedroom. I stood up to block the computer screen, not wanting to give the surprise away before I was ready.

“E, sweetheart, this better be super important,” she scolded, entering the room. “I was in the middle of my history mid-term paper and I had a groove going.”

I took in her beauty as she leaned against the door frame, crossing one leg over the other. Her hair was thrown into a ponytail at the top of her head, her reading glasses were falling down her nose, and the skin on her lips was peeling, most likely resulting from the way she constantly chewed on them when she was anxious or deep in thought. She was wearing an old hand-me-down t-shirt that she acquired from her older brother years ago, and because he was over a head taller than her, she was swimming in the fabric. Her legs were bare, but the shirt was so long on her body that she wasn’t revealing much. Her skin glowed in the light and the amused smirk on her face made my head spin.

Wow, I thought to myself in shock. This girl is all mine.

“E? Ethan? What was it you wanted to show me?” Her voice shook me from my thoughts and I broke out in a child-like grin.

“This paper is the last final you have to submit, right?”

“Yes…”

“And then you’re not only done for the semester but done with your college career, right?”

“Yes, Ethan, we’ve talked about this.”

“And your commencement ceremony is tomorrow at noon?”

“Ethan, did you get knocked over the head with something? We’ve been discussing my graduation for months now.”

“I know, I know we have. But, what we haven’t talked about is the fact that the ceremony isn’t the only place you—uh—I mean, we, have to be tomorrow.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side and walked over to me. “Ethan… what is going on?”

I took a couple of steps to the right to reveal the hotel reservations and flight confirmation number displayed on the computer screen, barely able to contain my excitement. “We have a 6:30 flight tomorrow from L.A. to Orlando. Happy graduation-slash-early-birthday-present, babe. I’m taking you to Disney World.”


I smile at the memory of Y/N’s disbelief as it melted into shock, the shock then morphing into elation. Disney World, while being one of the most cliché vacations a couple could take together, had always been a top vacation destination for her since she was a child. She was never able to visit when she was young because her parents struggled financially, but I had the ability to make one of her childhood dreams come true, something she never stopped thanking me for. Had I known the flight to Orlando wasn’t just going to be the last time I would fly on a commercial plane, but with Y/N in general, I would have cherished the moment more. She was always my favorite person to travel with. I would have gone anywhere in the world with her.

I begin to gag from vomit trying to force its way up my throat. For some reason, my regret is always paired with puke, but refusing to let it get the best of me, I fish in the front pocket of my backpack for my bottle of pills I was first prescribed after telling my doctor about my visions of Y/N. Opening the cap, I pour out four Ativan and wash them down with a bottle of water I bought after clearing security. I close my eyes and lean back in my seat, letting the medication run through my system and forcing the thought of Y/N away from my mind.

I just need five hours in the air to think about absolutely nothing. I just need five hours of darkness and silence in order to face what I have done.


“Ethan? Ethan Dolan in the flesh and blood?”

I look down at the concrete porch of Y/N’s childhood home, shamefully unable to meet the gaze of her mother standing on the threshold of her front door.

“Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N. Yes, it’s me.”

“Ethan, what business do you have showing up at my door after eight years of not speaking to my family?”

I pop my head up. Eight years? It’s been eight years since seeing Y/N last? I grab the letter out of my pocket and unfold it to see when it was dated, something that I stupidly didn’t think to pay attention to when I first found it.

Oh, my god… Y/N dated the letter six years ago; she waited on me for two and a half years in L.A. before moving back home, and it still took me another six years to find this thing. How despicable.

Disgusted with myself, I suddenly become dizzy and lean over the porch railing to vomit into the grass below. Mrs. Y/L/N steps out onto the porch and places her hand on my back, rubbing it gently until I stop dry heaving long enough to catch my breath.

“You’re being kind to me, Mrs. Y/L/N, even after everything I’ve done,” I observe.

“Holding anger and hatred for someone never does any good, no matter how much they’ve hurt you, Ethan. I see you found Y/N’s note. I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?”

I nod, gripping the piece of paper tighter. “Would you be able to tell me where to find her?”

“I can, but you might not like the answer.”

I raise an eyebrow, another wave of nausea washing over me.

“She bought the house, Ethan. The brick house on the corner of Oak Street, the one that–“

“The one that we talked about buying together since we were fourteen,” I finish for her.

Mrs. Y/L/N shrugs her shoulders. “Once your channel took off and she moved to L.A. with you, she started college out there and I thought maybe that dream became more of a fleeting thought for her. I don’t think she expected to ever come back to New Jersey; I certainly didn’t expect her to, at least because I knew that she would follow you wherever you went and I knew that you wouldn’t end up back here… You were destined for greater things than this town could offer you. But I suppose Y/N never forgot about it, after all.”

I press my lips into a hard line, working to keep my tears at bay. “You’re right, I don’t like that answer.”

“Well, then you should know one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“She doesn’t live there alone, Ethan.”

Fishing the keys of my rental car out of my other pocket, I glance sideways at Mrs. Y/L/N. “What do you mean?”

“I think it’s best that you find out for yourself, but be prepared. What you find might hurt you.” Mrs. Y/L/N places a peck on my cheek. “It was nice to finally see you again, Ethan.”

I close my eyes, desperately afraid that my visions of Y/N weren’t just visions after all.

“Thanks. You too. I just hope Y/N feels the same way.”

On how the dead may guard a place.

Take a the bone of a man who died of old age - It may be any bone but  the best is that of the left collar, or failing this, the metacarpal bone of the left ring finger, and holding it in the left hand which shall press the bone into the bicep of the right arm while the mage kneels at the threshold of their home, these words must be said:


“I summon, conjure and beseech you

O’ long dead and ancient being,

I summon thee from thy bone to come forth

Rise up and awaken

To guard and protect

My person, My home and all things under my possession,

In such a manner that those who would trespass

May be blinded and struck by the grand mal until i release them.

All this i ask and command you to do 

By the glory X and by the might X and majesty X

Of the kingdom and courts of death,

Fiat! Fiat! Fiat!” 


The necromancer must also buy or make a round box with a lid, which may be made of copper, bronze, stone or wood, but never iron or lead. And they should also procure three iron nails, which must be heated and quenched in wine on the night of a full moon.

Lastly, all the parts, a jar of grave dirt and a bit of the plant Millies Perfortum must be taken to the threshold of the of the house on a thursday, and facing out into the night, the box must be filled with the earth. Then the bone must be bound with the plant and the bundle should be lain on the top of the earth, then the box must be sealed and nailed shut, with the nails equidistant in a manner that forms a triangle.

The box must be placed alone on a small table, upon a black cloth. Should the box begin to fail in it’s duties, it must be opened, and a black hen must be slaughtered and bled into the earth.

Note: The “X” is an indication for a sign to be made. The sign is made when the “X” is present, typically between words or names. This also exists within classical magic as the sign of the cross. The sign is made in this manner with the left hand:

Best of luck

-S.

Be My Wife?

The world exists for the singular
The kind that fits neatly
into little boxes they created.
But for those like me and you
Who refuse to conform.
For those who don’t fit into a box
Then what choice do we have?

What choice but to climb up the white cliffs beaten by the sea
To say our unholy wedding vows
Under the watch of a uncaring God
To hold hands as we step over the threshold
To only break apart when
our bodies are broken against the
Mass of darkness waiting to swallow us whole.

What choice did we have?
Fit into boxes decided long before our births?
To marry the men our fathers chose?
To simply be content in playing the part of the submissive wife?
When you long for the arms of another woman?

What choice did we have but to decide a death.
Where we are united
Better then a life apart.
A life of boxes
Created for the singular.
Not for us.

Do not mistake my kindness
for weakness, friend. 
My body is my own,
my touch belongs to me, 
as does my skin, lips and anything 
that is me. 
It is mine, 
it is mine to desire, 
to love,
to gnarl my bones with my own bare teeth,
to moan in pleasure from discovery,
to ruin, to destroy,
or to build into sanctuary.

This body is mine.

Do not forget you are a guest,
asking to cross the threshold
of the home I built alone.

anonymous asked:

Betty is having a hard time with an anxiety disorder so Jug is really sweet, but sexual tension is still there. The story could maybe start as fluff then turn into full blown smut?

Hi anon! I really appreciate the ask! Unfortunately I must admit I disappointed a little on this one. I loved the idea, however, once I started writing I found myself unable to turn this into smut. With no disrespect to you wonderful idea, I just found it difficult to add sexual tension to this scenario due to the anxiety portion. So this is bughead fluff and nothing else and I apologize for that.  

I just felt the transition wasn’t working and I couldn’t realistically bring in the sexual stuff after being in such a dark head space with the anxiety. I hope that’s okay . xx


Spiraling and Salvation 

“Betts?” Jughead asked tentatively stepping through the threshold and into the pastel pink haven that was her bedroom.

The girl in question was pacing in distress, her sock clad feet surely wearing a hold in the carpet where they trod over and over. Her hands were curled in tight fists, her eyes squeezed shut and her cheeks flushed. Her breathing was erratic, becoming more rapid by the second before each inhale morphed into wheezing sounds.

Stray tears clung to her eyelashes, their predecessors leaving stains on her cheeks.

The flannel clad boy felt his heart seize at the sight of her. His body ached with the knowledge of her pain and distress and he felt cold panic shoot through him for a moment, unsure of what to do.

Betty seemed oblivious to his presence, her feet continuing to pace as her lungs continued to burn with the lack of oxygen. Jughead bit his lip, removing his beanie and moving cautiously into the room.

He swallowed down the urge to wrap her up tight in his arms and hold her until the evils of the world could no longer touch her and decided to place a gentle, yet deliberate hand on her shoulder instead.

“Betty,” he repeated more firmly.

Her eyes flew open at his touch and call of her name, green orbs wide and panicked. Jughead felt his heart splinter all over again as his blue gaze connected to hers. He loathed that he couldn’t rebuild the world to be a better place for her. He despised that he couldn’t take the awful pressure in chest away, that he couldn’t dispel the intense stresses that overwhelmed her. But he could help her cope with it, he could help her work through it.

“Breathe with me,” he instructed, keeping his grasp on her shoulder light enough as to not encroach her personal space and send her further into the panicked spiral of her anxiety attack.

Jughead began to inhale deep and slow, physically engaging with the action and prompting Betty to imitate the rise and fall of his chest.

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anonymous asked:

Gruvia shippers always focus on the "positives" of their relationship while ignoring the clear negatives shoved in our faces. Juvia CANNOT function withought Gray. She gets sick and instead of looking for support from her former guildmates after being left by Gray she just waited for Gray to come back. She said she was "close" to Lucy but she never tried to contact her or anyone in the guild after Gray left.

““close”“ to Lucy, even after she harasses her, shouts at her, threatens to kill her, and makes her genuinely uncomfortable……. man, does Lucy need better friends if that’s the threshold swdehjuki

Soul Purpose of Sun Signs 

Sun in Aries: To radiate the Divine Light and activate the Divine Mind as a reservoir of fresh ideas emanating straight from the pure Source. As consciousness streams from heaven to earth, God’s will is put into action 

“An incarnation taken with the Sun in Aries is to serve as a fertile field of fire, clearing and cleaning the mind.” - Alan Oken

Sun in Taurus: To manifest the pure, exquisite beauty of the soul into the material realm. Soul level beauty makes an appearance every day, as attachment is lost and light is sourced internally and externally. Taurus is a force of attraction to the ideas that give beauty substance.

“An incarnation taken with the Sun in Taurus has a great deal to do with the right use of magnetism. Taurus can add its tremendous magnetic qualities to attract the correct form around any inspirational idea.” - Alan Oken

Sun in Gemini: Infusing chaotic worlds of opposition into harmonic unity, to blend yin yang, masculine and feminine, light and shadow, soul and body. Fluid mutability re-arranges and relates all things so duality is resolves and evolution is generated. The sacred messenger is activated when spirit and personality integrate 

“To be an agent for Venus on the subjective level of life and use the power of Mercury objectively. In this way, the Sun in Gemini serves as a vehicle for communicating the Law of Right Human Relationships: Peace on Earth and Goodwill to (Wo)Men.” - Alan Oken

Sun in Cancer: To provide nourishment, armour, and protection materially and immaterially to all of Creation, as an all-encompassing substance much like the amniotic fluids. Offering nurturing from the Goddess to all forms. Stimulation of soul light 

“To create foundations: a foundation for future incarnations based on the intelligent blending of Will and Love, and the anchoring of a foundation of inner and outer resources to bring the nurturing Love of the Soul to others.” - Alan Oken

Sun in Leo: To radiate the marvellous will and artistry of God and the Master Plan through daily life. To display and be the architect of Divine Love and act as an extension of infinite cosmic creativity 

“To create opportunities for the expression of consciousness, both individually and collectively. The latter is achieved through Leo´s creative processes” - Alan Oken

Sun in Virgo: Activation of healing, universal service, and refining the lower self and mind. To utilise tremendous discrimination to bring about good will and assistance to the world, to work on behalf of the Soul of the World for the evolution of the Virgo Soul

“To provide the necessary forms through which consciousness (Love) may do the work of the Healer and bring a greater sense of wholeness into manifestation.” - Alan Oken

Sun in Libra: The soul takes a breath here. It ascends from the lower to the higher self and perceives opposition and duality in clear form. To stand in the middle and navigate polarities, to unify and create equality with seamless synthesis

“To hold opposing forces in check so that greater awareness of both the Soul and the personality may be achieved equally by all.” - Alan Oken

Sun in Scorpio: The Dweller of the Threshold awakens in Scorpio. Ultimate desire is the fire under the Soul as the higher self battles with the lower self for Divine purity. These battles facilitate sacred states of transformation which generate deeper and deeper love from the Soul

“To be a catalyst for the transformation of others, and by so doing, to transform the ego; an opportunity for Grace.” - Alan Oken

Sun in Sagittarius: The contrasting desires of the lower and higher self become integrated and focused toward the spiritual mission of the Soul itself. The guru awakens as the higher mind is cultivated with the Laws of Spiritual Nature when fastidious logic unifies with God’s vision 

“Sagittarius must use its well earned one-pointed focus to orient the life to some lofty objective, one which allows him or her to be a teacher of the ways of the Path.” - Alan Oken

Sun in Capricorn: To express the Master Plan and blueprint of God’s Mind into daily life on behalf of the collective. To undertake tremendous internal challenges so the soul’s true purpose is recognised and realised in reality. 

“Initiation. Capricorn represents that stage in spiritual growth in which all the efforts at spiritual growth culminate in advanced spiritual awareness.” - Alan Oken

Sun in Aquarius: To activate the light of Leo into the Soul of humanity, to be the reservoir that nourishes collective consciousness so evolution is possible for all beings. To awaken intuition with emotional and cerebral intelligence

“To create those human links and contacts that allow the Love/ Wisdom of the solar system to be expressed very specifically through the human mind.” - Alan Oken

Sun in Pisces: All dualities are resolved into a watery crystal and reflect only blinding Soul light. Liquid leaks all division, so material and immaterial unify and the identity is sacrificed to something higher. Acting on behalf of Soul purpose 

“To undergo and teach those tests of increased spiritual awareness that create an identification with the whole of human experience.” - Alan Oken

-C.

The world is a simulation and you are the weakest man in existence, one day you pass the lowest threshold and your strength stat loops back to the highest possible value

Klance Week 2017 - Day 4 - Home

K - Well, we’re home. After you, my dear husband.

L - Wait a minute. Who carries who over the threshold when we are both dudes?

K - You want me to carry you over the threshold, don’t you?

L - Yes, please. Just don’t bang me against the door frame. 

K - (picks up him) Don’t worry, it isn’t the door frame I am going to bang you against tonight, darling. 

L - Keith! 

(Version without the joke here)

The night starts with a big, spicy Philly cheese steak. It’s about 6pm. I’ve been wanting to try the cheese steak from this corny, 50’s retro place for a long time. I gobble down the big greasy bowl of meat, hot sauce, and cheese, then head to the coffee shop for my weekly draw group. A little after I get home, about 10pm, a stomach ache comes on. “Damn, guess spicy foods are out.” I’ve been getting stomach aches every time I have spicy Thai or hot wings. I google search about spice pain- possible stomach ulcer? “I guess I have been stressed lately, but no more than usual I don’t think…” File under “Will investigate further later.“ According to the comments on this health website, a glass of milk will help. Gulp one down, go to bed.

Wrestle to sleep for about an hour. Realize the ache is just over the required pain threshold to keep you from sleeping. Do some work on my comic, more tired, but stomach worse. Will play batman until I fall asleep. I feel like I’m just running in circles… How many times have I failed this mission? Batman, batman, stomach now hurts too bad to enjoy an active task like video games. Deliriously tired. Would be great to sleep through the rest of this abdominal temper tantrum. Try the old “hot shower will make you sleep” trick. Take some Pepto-Bismol, and some generic acetaminophen. Out of the shower, hurts to walk around now, and to lie down. Guess I’ll have to wait it out with my eyes open. Call and leave my Doc a message, maybe will get a spot in there tomorrow. Need to get that ulcer discovered… Time to enjoy a passive task like watching TV. Breaking Bad feels like the right mixture of funny and painful, just like me and my burning spice belly. Damn, I can’t even enjoy that part where during Hank’s interrogation of that meth head, Wendy, she accuses Hank of trying to buy sexual services from her on behalf of an underage “football player” (a misunderstanding involving Walter Jr. from a few episodes before). Oh hell. Time to look up what time emergency medical clinics open. Guess I’ll have to pay out of pocket since I can’t wait for my Doc tomorrow.  It’s about 4am now. Earliest clinic opens at 8. Now hungry again, but can’t eat what with all the pain. One hour down. Man, this is really starting to hurt. Can I really wait 3 more hours? Sitting is starting to hurt as much as lying and standing. And I’m still not enjoying TV. Okay, I’ve come to a decision…. 

“Hey, Kayla, my stomach still hurts, I’m thinking about driving to the ER, do you wanna come?” “Oh! Ya, sure. What time is it?” “It’s 5:30”. I  call the hospital “Hey, I’ve had a pretty bad stomach ache all night, I’m thinking of coming by.” Operator: *long pause* “Haha, well, okay! We’re open all night, so just come on in.” 

Driving with a stomach ache is not so bad, because you’re already hunched over. Wish Kayla could drive, but she doesn’t really know how, probably would have a panic attack and would definitely crash. Interesting that they have ER parking, I wonder how many ER patients drive themselves here… All bodily positions hurt my insides now, signing in to this place sucks. Give Kayla half the paperwork to fill out, glad she’s here, or this would be really boring. Man, they sure take a long time for someone trying to get into an empty emergency room… Signing in with a nurse, she ask me my height and I say “ ‘5’’8”, but I notice she puts down “ ‘5’’7”… They want to look at my pee, they always want to see my pee. I pee, no blood, so whatever that tells them means I’m getting an ultrasound first. Then a young nurse named Ken, a cool Asian dude with screws through both ears, squirts so much morphine into my IV that I lean back and audibly say “oh my god.” I feel it ripple like a shock wave from my arm down to the ends of my body. My belly is feeling alright now. 

The ultrasound technician tells me that babies are the least common thing she uses ultrasounds for. My joke has fallen flat. Back in the room, the doctor and his manila folder tell me “Good news! No gallstones, there are kidney stones inside your kidneys, but since they are inside, you shouldn’t be feeling the pain from those.” “Wait, does that mean I have to pee those stones out at some poin–” It is not discussed again. Seeing that neither organ has the appropriate stones, Doc would “rather not expose me to more radiation than necessary” and is working on discharging me. But, “I won’t leave here without a diagnosis.” 

In I go to the CT scan tube. That hot squish of contrast dye spreading through my veins. “Okay, we’re moving you into a room upstairs.” Says a hippy technician. Upstairs in my sweet and swanky single with couch, a person I’m pretty sure is just a businessman disguised in medical scrubs types on a computer. He takes down my answers to what seem like pre-surgery questions. “Do you have anybody specific on file in the event you are medically unable to yield consent  for yourself?” This, combined fact that they won’t feed me, makes me wonder what it is I’m going into surgery for. I saw this same thing about a year and a half ago with the whole brain debacle, but that’s a story for another time. Several medical people dip in, sprinkle breadcrumbs of information; it’s like a game show challenge that combines a scavenger hunt with a jigsaw puzzle. You have to gather the pieces of information from their hiding places, then assemble them in the correct order to reveal an answer. A tech comes in and spoils the game, “You seem to have a lot of questions, so I just want to make sure, you know you have appendicitis right? We’re about to take it out.” “Thank god,” I think. “It’s not the spicy foods. Spicy foods are still in.” Downstairs, in pre-op, I complain to my plain-clothes surgeon about how analog tests like pressing on my stomach are remarkably inaccurate, since a doctor’s subjective interpretation of my poor description of say, “the pain is slightly higher” can rule out appendicitis, the same appendicitis that a machine might spot an hour later. I tell him that I almost got sent home. My surgeon tells me he’s been doing analogue tests for 30 years, and not to worry about it. I start to tell him how “my deadpan reaction to pain also causes a lot of people to misdiagnose me, that a lot of people laugh when I describe how I’m in pai–”, but he walks away in the middle to get dressed for surgery. The operating room has big TVs and lights, it looks like a set, and I consider the possibility of fake hospitals as the anesthesia takes the wheel.

In the recovery area, the nurse tells me how big, inflamed appendixes can be agitated by spicy foods, foods high in fat, and dense foods like heavy cheese. I see an image of a spotlit cheese steak appear in a black void. Nurse feeds me ice chips and tells me she craves ice chips when she’s dehydrated. I suggest that she only craves ice chips because she works in a hospital, that ice chips are too unsatisfying a thing to crave at random, and that most people would just crave water. She agrees. Back upstairs in my room, it is now 8pm, and it has been 26 hours since I’ve eaten. I’ve been hydrated only through IV’s. The driest mouth and the clearest pee. Because the lingering anesthetic can cause nausea and vomiting, they will only give me jello. I go nuts on the jello. They continue to give me every jello I ask for, one at a time, like a test. Way past where I though the cutoff point would be, the nurse tells me “That’s it! There’s no more jello! You ate all the jello on this floor.” You’re damn right I did, you’re damn right….

🌳 What are THRESHOLDS? 🌳

Thresholds are border areas where one force, power, or element encounters another. These meeting areas are potentially the most highly magically charged of all. Thresholds exist everywhere: the seashore, that transitional area where ocean meets land; the foot of mountains, where land begins to rise; and caves, the subterranean thresholds between Earth’s outer and inner powers. There are architectural thresholds: doors and windows. There are thresholds in time: twilight and dawn, where an incoming power approaches before the out-going power has completely dispersed. Life cycles are thresholds: the birth of a new baby, particularly a first child whose birth transforms someone into a parent. Death is a threshold between one existence and the next. Someone who lingers in a halflife is described as having a foot in both worlds, straddling the threshold. Any transformative ritual is defined as a threshold, by virtue of its very capacity to transform. There are thresholds on the body: the mouth is the threshold between thought and speech. Thresholds are simultaneously the areas of greatest magical potential and also of extreme vulnerability. A vast percentage of protective amulets, rituals, and spells are designed to guard thresholds and the transformative process. In fact, every magic spell can be perceived as a transformative threshold, from a past that has left something to be desired toward the future that the spell hopefully produces. Most thresholds consist of a simple boundary: with one foot you stand inside the house, with another you stand outside. If your feet are small enough and your balance is good, you can stand poised, neither inside, nor outside. With one foot you stand in the river or ocean, with the other, you stand on the land. The ancient Egyptians called their country “the land of the red and the black,” because there was a distinct division, a visible dividing line between the black fertile land of Nile silt and the stark red land of the desert. You could literally stand with one foot in each color. Each color also typified a different kind of magic and a different spiritual ruler. The black belonged to Osiris, with his arts of orderly civilization; red belonged to his brother Seth, anarchic, chaotic Lord of Magic. These are simple boundaries: you can hop from one to the other. There are also expanded, exponentially super-magically charged thresholds.