#“[MACHINE] completed a self-test overnight.” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anonymous-nicholas · 2 years ago

Text

Some of My Favorite Urban Legends

I loved the Nascar season growing up because I knew that my dad would be in the living room ALL day, leaving me to watch whatever I wanted, unsupervised, in the back bedroom. Nothing raunchy or super inappropriate, but I always gravitated towards horror. This unsupervised TV time is how I found out about cryptids. I would watch Lost Tapes on Animal Planet whenever I got the chance. It was one of the most intriguing TV shows to me.

Lost Tapes awakened in me a hyperfixation that lasted well into my 30’s. I fully believe that show, and that show alone, is the sole reason I find myself so enthralled with things like cryptozoology and urban legends. So, while I open the latest MetaZoo box and compare the MSRP of the rare cards to what I paid for the box, I want to talk about some of my favorite cryptids and urban legends featured in this set.

Before we get into the juicy stuff though I just want to thank everyone who has subscribed thus far. Theres not even 200 of you yet but those of you who are here seem to be some of the coolest guys, gals, and non-binary pals out there. There have been so many kind words regarding the content on the channel, and it feels like monetization is right around the corner despite there not even being 200 subs. We’re growing really quickly now, and getting closer every day to a channel that can afford to pump out more content. So if you haven’t already, please be sure to subscribe, or at least hit that like button and type some kind words below so the YouTube god that is the almighty algorithm will push the video to more like-minded people.

Now for something completely different.

Polybius

In 1981 the arcade business was booming and the method of quality assurance testing videogames before release was more about crowdsourcing information. The arcades of Portland, Oregon were a hot spot for QA testing new games before they hit the market, so it was normal for black, labeless arcade cabinets with no artwork to show up overnight. One such night a collection of black cabinets appeared that read “Polybius.” It quickly became popular around Portland as the mechanics were so addictive. Oftentimes children would have to wait to play as men in black suits would visit the arcades to open the cabinet and collect data from the machine, sometimes the men in suits would hang around and watch as the game was played, and sometimes the game would periodically disappear and reappear as these same unknown men would take the game and later bring it back. Soon children who played it would report becoming sick with seizures and hallucinations, and some children found themselves amnesia stricken or would experience night terrors and PTSD. In a few extreme cases Polybius was linked to a number of children who had committed self harm and even suicide. As the game was becoming more well known as a “haunted game,” kids would now dare each other to play it. But the game was quickly pulled out of arcades for good by the previously mentioned men in black suits, and Polybius was never seen again.

It was around this same time that the US Government had first started testing the idea of using videogames as training simulations for US soldiers. The year prior to Polybius the US Army collaborated with Atari to create The Bradley Trainer. And in the decade just before the public had been made aware of the MK Ultra experiments being carried out by the CIA for almost 2 decades. It’s possible that this timeline of events, (MK Ultra disclosures, The Bradly trainers' development and delivery to the US Army, and then Polybius mysteriously showing up in arcades) could be what lead people to one of the more popular conspiracies surrounding the machine. It was believed that Polybius was possibly another egregious human experiment being carried out, one that tested the mental fortitude of the average person. Theoretically, this kind of experiment could deliver useful information on patterns and lights that could induce seizures at will, or the effects of long term exposure to subliminal messaging.

For a long while it was thought to be a myth because there seemed to be no corroborating evidence, until a 2006 post to coinop.org. The post was made by a man named Steven Roach. Steven claimed to have previously worked for a company by the name Sinnesloschen (Sin-es-slur-shin). He heavily details his involvement with the game, explaining away the US Government conspiracy, and providing a much more believable tale. In short, him and some buddies ran Sinnesloschen as a little start up where they made hardware, they were approached by a company with the idea for a game that would net the boys a sweet compensation package, the game was made, delivered to Portland arcades for QA testing, but then one child in Portland had a seizure while playing the game. The parent company had to settle the resulting lawsuit and scramble to remove all the arcade cabinets. And that's that. . . Allegedly.

A couple easily verifiable facts:

Sinesloschen can be translated from German as “mind wiping” or “mind altering.” A little on the nose, don’t ya think?

Polybius was the name of a Greek philosopher who is credited as being one of the first real historians in human history, and was quoted as saying *clears throat* “If history is deprived of the Truth, we are left with nothing but an idle, unprofitable tale.”

So do with that what you will.

Hatman

Before discussing Hatman I want to get one common misconception out of the way: Freddy Krueger was not inspired by the Hatman myth. Wes Craven explained in an interview on some DVD commentary that Freddy was inspired by a bully from his school during his youth, a disfigured homeless man who had frightened him when he was 12, and the 1970s pop song "Dream Weaver" by Gary Wright. So yeah, super disappointing.

ANYWAY, Hatman is still super cool. He’s recognized as the most common version of a sleep paralysis demon. Some people see bugs and insects, some people see actual demons, but most people see the Hatman. Hatman is interesting because so many people - all over the world - describe the same figure. About 6 feet tall, wears a black suit, and always wears the same hat. He transcends race, culture, and geographical location.

If you didn’t know, sleep paralysis is when your mind wakes up before your body. Your brain has this switch that turns off your ability to move while dreaming so that you don’t hurt yourself by acting out your dreams. Sometimes people's eyes will open before this switch returns to its original position. For the few seconds the switch is off you often continue to dream, resulting in hallucinations.

Some people report the Hatman as someone who just watches them, others report that he is “sucking the breath or life out of them,” some say he puts pressure on their chest by sitting on them or forcing them down with his hands, and in some extreme cases he has been reported to attack people.

I have suffered from sleep paralysis at a few junctions in my life. Constant stress is a common trigger for sleep paralysis. I never saw the Hatman though. Often I saw disembodied hands. They would be coming from under the bed I slept on, coming out of the closet, and one time it looked like an entire arm gently wrapped around me. But the worst time I saw a disembodied hand was one night in my old home. I had designed my room for “maximum comfort” by placing the bed against the window and my flatscreen at the foot of my bed. I had a collection of pillows under my bed so that I could create a large comfy chair when gaming or watching TV. One night I was up kind of late and watching anime. I was working a crap job at the time and always angry, so sleep paralysis happened often. On this night I must have fell asleep with my eyes open because a hand came in through my window and made motions in front of my face. It triggered my fight or flight and I lunged at the arm, ready to grab it, but it disappeared. I knew it was my sleep paralysis but my adrenaline had already started pumping. I couldn't get to sleep that night because I was so wired afterwards.

An estimated 40% of all humans will experience Sleep Paralysis in their lifetime. So if you haven’t met the Hatman or the disembodied hands yet, you still might.

Flatwoods Monster

I’m not going to spend too much time on this one because Ash and Aliana made an episode of the Morbid podcast that absolutely killed this topic. Theres literally no reason for anyone on the internet to talk about the Flatwoods Monsters anymore because that Morbid episode is the definitive piece of content. I highly recommend that you check it out if you’re even the least bit interested in cryptids or aliens. I’ll give you a TL;DR though.

On September 12 in 1952 three boys, Edward and Fred May, and their friend Tommy Hyer, say they saw a red object pass through the night sky and land on a nearby farm property around 7:15 PM. The boys ran to tell Ed and Freds mom, Kathleen. Kathleen agreed to help th boys investigate - because what responsible parent would just let their children investigate the crash sight of lord-knows-what - and along the way a few other boys from the neighborhood, one accompanied by his dog, all tagged along. 17-year-old Gene Lemon, a National Guard member, also accompanied the group and took the lead as they entered the woods.

Once in the woods Lemon saw a “ 10-foot monster with a blood-red body and a green face that seemed to glow.” The monster was also surrounded by a dense mist that made the party nauseous.

The story got picked by almost every major radio station and newspaper in the US, and became one of the biggest stories that year.

Seriously, go check out the Morbid episode about this fun little guy. It’s worth your time.

The Grays

This is another one I’m not going to spend too much time on because who doesn’t know the grays? These guys are aliens 101. But here are some cool facts you probably didn’t know.

The first ever description resembling a modern Gray can be found in the 1891 novel, Meda: A Tale of the Future, written and published by Kenneth Folingsby. In the book the narrator passes out due to overworking himself and then just wakes up in the year 5575. In the book he encounters aliens who are small, gray skinned, and have “large balloon shaped heads.”

Another popular description was written by H.G Wells - who you’ll recognise as the author of War of the World and the Invisible man - in his 1893 short story, Man of the Year Million. He describes future humans kind of like Grays. Bald, no mouth or nose, and large heads. He then later described a race of future humans that he called the Eoli in his book The Time Machine. They were described in a similar manner.

But I think my favorite early description of a gray alien - predating Roswell and all that - comes from one of the most interesting men you’ve never heard of, Aleister Crowly. Aleister was a writer, poet, painter, a freaking mountaineer, an occultist, and whatever the hell a “ceremonial magician” is. He’s most well known for founding the religion of Thelema. I could write a whole book on this guy but I don’t want to get too off topic.

In 1917 Aleister and his girlfriend at the time conducted a ritual they referred to as “Amalantrah Workings.” And during this ritual they claimed to come in contact with a "preternatural entity" - or alien - named Lam. Crowley made a drawing of Lam if you wanna look it up, which is weird when Lam was also described as “being incomprehensible to the human mind.” Other UFO-oligists have claimed to have met Lam in one way or another, and they claim he is linked to several famous sightings of Gray aliens.

Also, before you go thinking that conducting magic rituals with your lover is a fun date idea, it probs isn’t. Aleister and his honey broke up soon after. That was probably Lam’s fault too.

One last things I want to discuss because it’s cool (and also I have so much space to fill for this video) is another cool alien fun fact. It’s not gray specific, but I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to discuss this on the channel again.

In 1630 John Wintrop led a wave of Puritans from England to establish the second major settlement in New England, known as the Massachusetts Bay Colony, and he would serve as the governor for the first 12 years following its founding. As he and the other Puritans began to settle in America John Winthrop kept a diary that recorded the colony's growth. While most of it is just boring US history, there was one particular entry that many credit as the first ever UFO sighting in recorded United States history.

On March 1 of 1693 John Wintrhop recounted in his diary a strange event that was reported by James Everell and two other men whose names seem to have been forgotten by history, possibly because John Winthrop doesn’t mention their names in this entry.

John WIntrop starts by explaining that James Everell was a “sober” - very important detail for a story like this - “discreet man.” James and his two buddies were rowing on the Muddy River at night when they saw bright lights in the sky. Over the course of about three hours the men say that the light darted back and forth, between them and the village of Charlestown. When it stood still it was about “three-square yards” large, and - this part is weird - “when it ran, contracted the form of a swine.”

So basically a giant light up space pig, I guess. This is exactly why John Winthrop led with the details of James’ sobriety.

This next part is my favorite: James and buddies reported that when the magical space pig disappeared it had faded away, and the squad was now a mile UPSTREAM, not down. The three men had no recollection of rowing against the current, so it’s possible that they lost time. If you know anything of modern American alien abduction stories then you know that “losing time” is a common trope amongst them. Because of this, some UFO-ologists believe that James Winthrop didn’t only record the first UFO sighting in written American history, but possibly the first abduction as well.

While I don’t believe in aliens in this manner I do find these things interesting and fun to discuss.

Charles Mill Lake Monster

On March 28, 1959, in Mansfield, Ohio, three teenage boys - Denny Patterson, Wayne Armstrong and Michael Lane - were hanging out near Charles Mill Lake when they claimed to see it. A 7-foot tall, armless amphibian with glowing green eyes and large, webbed feet rose from the lake almost directly in front them. Immediately, out of fear, the three boys ran to the police station to report what they saw. The police investigated the scene and found no such monster, but they did find a collection of tracks that “resembled the foot gears worn by skin divers.” There probably were never any more sightings of the Charles Mill Lake monster, and I saw “probably” because many people believe that the Chalres Mill Lake monster is also another cryptid known as Orange Eyes.

Orange Eyes has significantly less information, and while all the info you can find tells the same stories - or pieces of it - there's no names, no police report filed, and a lot of speculation. Allegedly, in 1963, several teenagers sighted Orange Eyes in the Lovers Lane area near Charles Mill Lake. The teens reported that it was 11-feet tall and possibly 1,000 pounds. They also defined it as hairy - not amphibious - and confirmed that it did have arms. After escaping from the initial encounter the terrified teens gathered up an armed posse to hunt the beast down. Details are vague so it isn’t clear if this posse included adults with guns or just other teens who were also, OBVIOUSLY, studying the bible at Lovers Lane. Some info surrounding the monster will tell you “this is for sure how it happened,” but again, I can’t track down any sources, and sources are never listed. However, one thing everyone seems to agree on is that Orange eyes could have been living in the sewers. Prior to both sightings there was construction of a highway that possibly resulted in the destruction of sewer tunnels near the lake.

The final sighting was in 1991 when a couple fishermen - both chose to remain anonymous - claimed to have seen the same creature described as Orange Eyes. The two men claimed that the 11-foot beast ran past them and into the woods. That’s it. That’s their whole story.

Rougarou

The Rougarou isn’t a cryptid, but instead a piece of Cajun folklore hailing from New Orleans, Louisiana. Many people refer to it as the Cajun Werewolf. It’s speculated that the Rougarou folklore evolved from the French folklore of the Loup-Garou, which is a French Canadian and European werewolf. The story of the Loup-Gaurou was passed down orally from generation to generation, and French settlers in New Orleans would retell the tales, eventually becoming the Cajun Rougarou.

The Rougarou is mostly recognised as one of those cautionary monsters that only exists to scare children into certain behaviors. The story was commonly passed down from Cajun adults to their children as a way to inspire obedience. Things like not traveling too far into the woods or going out when its late, otherwise the Rougarou will getcha! Likewise, the Loup-Garou served the same purpose in French Catholicism. One of the most famous Loup-Garou tales states that breaking catholic lent for seven years in a row will turn you into a Loup-Garou. And in French Canadian Christian folklore the Loup-Garou is a cursed man who sinned so much that he would unwillingly turn into the beast every night for 101 days, cursed to roam the countryside in werewolf form.

One neat fact related to the Rougarou: The New Orleans Hornets, now the New Orleans Pelicans, once filed for a trademark to become the New Orleans Rougarous. That would have been waaaaaaaaay cooler than the Pelicans.

Kodiak Dinosaur

I had never heard about this one prior to writing the video so I had to do some research, and in my research I found an awesome song from an awesome band. If you’re a fan of Swancore style music or the band who invented it, Dance Gavin Dance, I highly recommend checking out Galleons and their song Downtown Dinosaur Gang from their 2015 EP Kodiak Soul. It is currently sitting at a CRIMINAL 629 views so please help me change that and check out their newer stuff too. They released an album last year that's super good.

So anyway: There is a ton of information surrounding the Kodiak Dinosaur, and the only evidence of it possibly being a “dinosaur” is that it was big.

The Kodiak Dinosaur was “spotted” - and I am using that term lightly - in 1969 by the Mylark shrimping boat of the coast of Alaska, in the Shelikof Strait The shrimping boat was equipped with, at the time, some of the best sonar that the late 1960’s had to offer. One day the crew went out to catch shrimp and on the sonar they noticed a large blip on the radar, 300 feet below the surface. When doing research on the topic the blip ranges from anywhere around 130-200 feet long. There's a picture of the sonar recording, sometimes referred to as an “echogram,” that looks pretty convincing.

But real quick, let’s talk about how sonar works, because it’s basically echo location. Why is that important, you may ask? Something you may not know about the Loch Ness Monster is one of it’s largest pieces of debunking evidence; the surroundings. Many skeptics believed that Nessy, as it appears on sonar, looked to be the sonar reading it’s own wavelengths as they traveled back from hitting the sides and rocky bottom of the Loch. Even changes in water temp can cause readings that look like animals. Some scientists and skeptics would argue that sonar is an unreliable tool when trying to prove the existence of an underwater dinosaur.

But also remember that Cryptozoology has proven the existence of many things thought to be fake. Komodo dragons, Okapi, and even the Giant Squid were all thought to be hoaxes and urban legend at one point. And sometimes cryptids do exist just not as we imagined them, like finding out the Chupacabara was a diseased fox or that the Jackalope was a rabbit with some kind of calcium-tumor condition.

So who knows. Maybe these plesiosaur creatures being spotted everywhere are just severely endangered species that never really went extinct.

The Kodiak Dino has allegedly been spotted several more times since the initial sighting, and the Kodiak Museum actually has a pretty in-depth article on the sightings and origins if you’re interested. It’s called Here There Be Dragons: Sea Monsters of Kodiak Island and it’s a pretty fun read.

#urban legends #cryptids #cryptid #monsters

3 notes · View notes

srbachchan · 4 years ago

Text

DAY 4820

Jalsa, Mumbai May 9/10, 2021 Sun/Mon 12:24 AM

When young suffer .. when the child suffers .. when the haunt of its bearing clouds the mind with nothing but that .. when time and again the repeat of its presence in some permanence in your life propels you to understand the environ is daunting and without consider .. then gripped in remorse and sadness you drop all else and sit with nothingness ..

One can move mountains in belief and the weight of endless adversity, but if the insides are drenched in the assess that the paths are damaged and worn .. played out in the drama of a fine performance that seeks attention when attention is not the real cause .. then you sit up .. take stock .. work out the for and the against and come to conclude that the eventual set , should be to remove the cancerous pain , bear it for a while but live in the relief that it shall not be there in permanence once removed ..

The ability to , despite unfavourable nature , shall ever be the halting block .. but the drama and the performance can ever be seen through, especially when you are surrounded by individuals similar in the despite ..

Your complacency could be renowned .. as may be your penchant for harmony .. but for whom .. your own demeanour shall never be the object .. the other works arduously to be in the attention ..

Point is .. they seek away from theirs .. we know the seek .. we see the transparent glass that you present each episode .. that glass gives it all away .. it is now no longer the gambit .. it is the humour of farce in the comedy of the bards errors ..

Best then to ‘away away bright lite ..’

Give me room and space to breathe in my birth environ .. that is reason for departure from the fire tests to the charm of warmth ..

I speak in parables .. may be .. but there is a reality to the mind if nothing else .. a reality that brings and weighs you down .. puts the mountain over the head and drowns you with its booming energy of volume suppressing the tone of the need to air it ..

Air it then .. and end it ..

WORK on the conditions about, relentlessly continues .. campaigns for relief and the give .. at forums that cover the seas beyond .. one such the VaX Concert with dignitaries of the celebrity brand and more resolve to join the fight .. and WIN ..

The one immediately below 👇🏿 , be one such ..

vimeo

BUT more at home , the presence of the progeny develops into endeavours that stun you with their thinking and thought .. and our little Navya Naveli .. not so little anymore, speaks about the venture she has begun on her own, with her own and determined to build the initiative she believes in .. here be the link .. for one so young and mature in thought and word was truly a moment of great pride as a Nana as grand parents .. 👇🏿

Link for Navya Spotify Link : https://open.spotify.com/episode/4DnVZj9kRFjrwm71r5ZVc9?si=0x5egAuDQWmXd1qYH2fkvA

... and there is more .. for some are disturbed in the Ef fraternity of the brevity in the Blog and wonder if the mind is disturbed , ill , concerned , indisposed ..

No it is not ..

The hesitancy comes from whether to SPEAK or not ..

But whether I show concern over it or not I find that surreptitiously some of them that are the privileged in the World of writing and inform, have through means sourced the matter that was kept under the hatter .. and now as with all matter within these modern times, nothing remains buried in silence .. it rises and volumes the announce elsewhere ..

SO .. my Nana, my grandfather , my Mother’s Father Sardar Khazan Singh Suri the affluent Bar at Law in pre partition Punjab, was married to Amar Kaur Sodhi, my Naani , my Mother’s mother .. and gave birth to my Mother Teji Kaur Suri ..

The Sodhi’s are considered the descendents of the Guru’s of the Sikh religion .. the location of the birth of the religion being AnandPur Sahib, the Gurudwara now in India Punjab and a most revered temple of the Sikhs ..

The readings of the autobiography of my Father, detailing the history of his In Laws educated me .. I never had courage or the need to ask this of my Father or my Mother .. but having known ,it came to me that there has been no remembrance of Nana and Naani through the years .. so a remembrance needed to be done ..

CovID occurred and in the months and time that has passed from the ‘20 to the ‘21 and one witnessed the hardships of those that suffered ..

Yes I do charity , but have ever believed it to be done, than spoken of .. it is embarrassing , in too great a self consciousness .. of one that has ever felt shy of public presence despite the profession - one that has to find its usp in public domains is relevant today for me ..

The pressure though .. the every day abuse and the filth of distasteful comment has never been of attention to me or to the family .. we have seen it from time immemorial .. happens .. some are ridden with the wisdom that it shall happen .. so all the efforts continued in the quiet .. no divulge to the information agencies .. no talk of it either .. only the receiver knew and that was the end ..

Over 1500 farmers’ bank loans paid off by my personal fund and prevented them from suicide , as the suicides grew .. from Andhra Pradesh, Maharashtra, UP et al .. calling them over after identifying with respective banks and getting them all to Janak and in the presence of the bank representatives, paying them in person and getting them to strike off the loan , giving each farmer the document that they did not owe any more , that their loan was over and completed and paid back to the bank .. some 300 odd from UP could not all be present .. a bogie in the train booked for a limited number of 30 to 50 of them , from their respective cities in UP, received them in Mumbai , put them in buses , given a drive of the city of Mumbai, brought over to Janak, fed and given the loan cancellation certificate and put back on the train to their homes .. all at my expense ..

The brave soldiers at the border of the Country who had been martyred , their lists sought and their families , young wives and their children, some wives pregnant and expectant , given succour ..

The martyr’s at Pulwama after the terrible terrorist attack , their families spread all over the land contacted and brought to Janak and given succour .. at the hands of Abhishek and Shweta ..

Those that suffered during the CoViD last year .. providing food for over 400,000 - 4 lakh - daily wage earners in the country for a month .. feeding almost 5000 in the city each day lunch and dinner ..

Provided masks , PPE units to front line warriors, Police Hospitals in the thousands .. through personal funds .. donating to the Sikh Committee that was helping the migrants to travel back home in the Inter State busses , where the drivers were mostly Sikhs ..

When the migrants were walking back home, some without the benefit or affordability of shoes .. provided hundreds of chappals and shoes to them .. due to lack of travel facility, booked 30 buses to locations in UP and Bihar and supplied them food and water for the overnight travel ..

Booked an entire train from Mumbai to UP to carry 2800 migrant passengers free of cost at my expense .. and when the destination State blocked the train from coming into their State and cancelled the train .. immediately chartered 3 Indigo Airline planes and flew almost 180 migrants in each flight to UP and Bihar and some to Rajasthan and J&K .. free of cost ..

And as the virus spread, donated an entire Diagnostic Centre .. opened at Bangla Sahib Gurudwara in Delhi through the Delhi Sikh Gurudwara Management Committee, set up in the premises of the Gurudwara for medical help for the poor and needy .. an MRI machine and other Sonographic and Scan equipments of expenses beyond my means, but set up inspite .. in the memory of my Nana , Naani and my Mother ..

A 250 to 450 bed care centre set up with further donation at the Rakabganj Sahib Gurudwara today in Delhi and soon to procure for them O2 ( Oxygen ) concentrators, not in stock or easily available , from overseas limited stock to be donated to Delhi where the need is immense and some to Mumbai .. coming in within the week .. 50 of them coming in from Poland by 15th and the rest around 150 from perhaps the US .. orders placed , some have arrived and given to the Hospital in need ..

Ventilators of immediate need to the BMC and to the Municipal Hospitals ordered .. around 20 of them , of course within my limited means , to be in, in a few days .. some 10 have arrived today and on custom release shall be delivered ..

A 25-50 bed Hospital care centre setting up at Juhu Army location at a School Hall , the Ritambhara School, with all facilities and should be up by the 12th of May .. donated funds to set up ..

3 very important detection machines donated to Nanavati Hospital , last week to help in the detection of CoviD ..

Feeding about a 1000 in the slums and poor sections of the city ..

Young children .. orphaned by the sudden death of the parents, left in oblivion .. have adopted 2 and shall be put in an orphanage in Hyderabad .. their study board and lodging free till they finish School .. from the 1st to the 10th .. and if they turn out bright to provide them with free upper education ..

.. and more , as and when the means are affordable ..

AGRANDISEMENT .. !! NO .. let it be emulated .. if each were to put in not the above but even a small drop of assistance, the severity of the situation would begin to ease ..

It is painful to see the misery around and the inability to be able to do something for them ..

BUT we shall fight and more than that .. shall .. WIN !

So help me God .. !!

Amitabh Bachchan

145 notes · View notes

cinnaminsvga · 5 years ago

Text

intermission • v | moonshine

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. jihope + seokjin) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: homoerotic tension (?), delulu shippers, seokjin is a nosy motherfucker (as per usual) → words: 7.3K → a/n: it’s been,, ten million years,, sorry to my fox rain readers but let’s just say my brain has been a smoothie for a while but now!! it is still a smoothie but perhaps a little chunkier ;w; anyway, we love jihope in this household,, and seokjin,, is seokjin,, we love him too

— • masterlist | prev | intermission v | next • —

In a small studio apartment somewhere close to your university campus, notoriously handsome and oh-so-talented Kim Seokjin wakes up in cold sweat, his heart beating a mile a second and a chill running down his spine. “There’s been a disturbance in the force,” he mutters lowly to himself, a drop of sweat making its way down his razor-sharp jaw.

He had been in the midst of a wondrous dream wherein he, the universe’s protagonist, was being showered with praise and adoration after the sensational debut of his autobiographical documentary. Men and women alike were at his feet, peppering his heaven-sent toesies with the worship that he deserves. Everyone was there, even you had been there, his self-declared rival! But just as you were about to reach the head of the line, lips puckered and ready to go, Seokjin was ripped away from his kissies without warning.

You, of course, were not the reason for his mind-bending, earth-shattering, cock-jizzing premature arousal from his slumber. No –– Kim Seokjin does not wake up prematurely, for every moment of his life is a beacon of perfection. Only events of the most catastrophic order were able to wake him up from his slumber, so whatever cosmic force caused him to awaken must’ve been no joke. He had to take this seriously, as it might mean thousands of lives were at stake.

Seokjin jumps to his feet with a flourish, his entire body oozing grace, so much so that it would make any grown ballerina cry. He rushes to unplug his phone from its charger, unlocking it and immediately going to search through his social media accounts. As he scans through the tweets and posts, his well-trained eye sifts through the dreary and the mundane, his only intent to find whatever it is that might forewarn him of a natural disaster.

His follower count is stable. His engagement graphs show that his posts are at an all-time high. To any other novice, this might have been a sign that his gut feeling had been nothing but a fluke. Surely, nothing is wrong in the universe? But no, Seokjin is not some mere amateur! He wouldn’t be as successful at being a prick celebrity social media influencer if he didn’t have the reflexes that he did. He has to keep searching and pick out any little thing that might indicate that something was amiss.

It takes a hot minute (three hours to be exact) for Seokjin to find it, but he does. And oh, his intuition had been right: this was a level nine catastrophe. To give you an understanding of what that might mean, then here’s some context to scale: a level eight catastrophe would be if you ever found that he might have had a crush on you when you first met each other; a level ten catastrophe would be if Kim Seokjin lost all his followers overnight and was forced to relinquish his title as an Instagram baddie. So yes, level nine was dire, if not almost life-threatening.

The evidence?

...

To the untrained eye, it might look like nothing. But to a delulu devoted JiHope stan? This was a living nightmare.

Oh god, the signs are all there! The context, the timestamps, the emojis… They all made sense in Seokjin’s complicated maze of a mind. Like a seasoned detective, he’s able to connect all the dots to make a valid hypothesis that yes, JiHope is in danger of breaking up*.

[Addendum: Please note that JiHope has never dated before. Kim Seokjin is a lunatic and the constraints of reality do not apply to those of his kind. Please read the rest of this report with that in mind. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

“FUCK!” he exclaims (with feeling), dropping to his knees as he cries (with feeling). The signs are all there: something is causing a rift between his two favorite homos* from staying together and he, as the chosen one, must do something to save them before it’s too late.

[Addendum: Well, technically he’s right, but Jimin is bisexual at the very least, but that’s a matter of semantics… But that’s pretty much as “factual” as Kim Seokjin is ever going to get, so let’s take that as a blessing. Noted by: Min Yoongi (again).]

He can’t jump headfirst into this madness, however. He needs a plan; not only did it need to be foolproof, but it also had to be undeniably fabulous and downright heinous. Seokjin never did see himself as the morally right hero from those dreary Marvel comic books despite the allure of their skintight spandex and ostentatious capes. No–– Seokjin is of a higher calling, one where the hero needs to pull his dirtiest tricks in order to save the day.

Which is why Seokjin finds no error in his ways when he decides to stalk Jimin and Hoseok throughout their day, trying to pinpoint which clogs in his JiHope machine need oiling and lubing.

Nothing is ever too much for Kim Seokjin. In fact, he’ll go out of his way to follow them to their homes if he has to, but luckily (for Jimin and Hoseok), he doesn’t need to go that far. In fact, it’s a downright fucking miracle that his intuition from this morning had been correct, made apparent by hour ten (10) of his stalking misadventures:

It’s nearing five in the afternoon. Kim Seokjin’s patience and determination has been put to the test before, but never like this. He could never ever imagine himself setting foot in this damned place, what with its overflowing abundance of knowledge, nerds, and public displays of integrity. He nearly gagged the moment he took one step in the library, and not even the thought of seeing Jimin and Hoseok together was enough to settle the bile climbing up his throat.

To make matters worse, you were there too. Not that Seokjin particularly cares (he does) that you are, but there is something… annoying about seeing you just sitting there, teaching Hoseok like it was normal*.

[Addendum: It is fucking normal. As per usual, Kim Seokjin is a dipshit who has never worked a day in his life and does not understand the notion of helping others study for their courses. To this day, I can’t understand how he’s passing his classes, though I’m kind of afraid of finding out how. Some things are better left… unsolved. Noted by: Min “I’m-not-paid-enough-for-this” Yoongi.]

He had been busy following Jimin around before this, but he was forced to change targets when one of his adoring fans had distracted him while asking for an autograph, causing him to lose track of Jimin entirely. It was of little consequence, however, given that he knows that Jimin was also going to be tutored by you later on anyway, so he just hopes that Jimin doesn’t do something stupid while he’s out of sight for the time being.

Normally, he’d try to find out where Jimin was going next, but the hardest part about following Jimin is that he didn’t have a fixed schedule like Hoseok did. Even Seokjin didn’t quite understand what Jimin was majoring in, and he prides himself in knowing every single detail of both their lives. But for now, it didn’t matter; at least Seokjin was left with one schedule to follow, so it made sense to just let Jimin be and go to wherever Hoseok was probably at the moment.

When Seokjin had finally located him walking out of his last class, Hoseok hadn’t appeared all that different from his usual demeanor. A bit dazed maybe, but that could be brushed off due to the essay he had to cram for that morning (a fact that Seokjin had learned through various connections). He walks lazily to the nearby library where he would be meeting you, and with a heavy heart, Seokjin follows suit.

You were already there when the two of them arrive. Seokjin is lucky when your eyes train automatically on Hoseok, ignoring him completely. In any other scenario, Seokjin would’ve felt incredibly scorned by this. He would’ve immediately stomped over to where you sat, making sure to announce his presence to you and everyone else within a fifty-foot radius. But today was not an ordinary day, so Seokjin is forced to hold his tongue and save his bitchin�� for another day. And so, he quietly slinks away to a seat a few tables away, his contemptuous aura causing all the previously seated students to vacate the table in a rush.

Much to his chagrin, it feels like Seokjin has just wasted an hour as he watches the two of you being productive (Seokjin lets out a shudder), not even bothering to film your tutoring session due to how little information he was getting. The only point of interest is how pissed off you seem, though it’s not like Seokjin has ever witnessed you in any other state anyway. He watches as Hoseok’s sunny disposition slowly chips away at your foul mood, and to his awe and surprise, sees you crack a smile just as the hour was about to pass.

It isn’t like that was important to Seokjin, though. So what if he noticed that you were happier with Hoseok around? It’s not every day that Seokjin catches you in a good mood (and he reluctantly admits that it’s always nice to see you smiling, even if his presence unfailingly causes a deep-set frown to appear on your lips.)

That was of little importance, he told himself.

Seokjin had hoped that when Hoseok’s tutoring session would end that he might manage to see him and Jimin cross paths. Unfortunately, it seems like Hoseok has other plans as he quickly shuffles his things into his bag, looking apologetic as he waves a hasty goodbye to you. You and Seokjin gaze at the empty spot he has left in his wake, both of you knowing even without Hoseok’s admittance that this rift between him and Jimin was far deeper than either of you had imagined.

Seeing Hoseok so skittish has a terrible effect on one’s psyche, and Seokjin feels despair growing in the pit of his stomach at what might be an unsalvageable situation for the JiHope community.

“Nonsense!” his inner-voice (that suspiciously sounds like you) chastises, whacking him with a proverbial rolled-up newspaper. “There is no such thing as unsalvageable when it comes to the magnificent Kim Seokjin!”

“You’re right,” Seokjin says (out loud), slamming his fists on the table. The jittery librarian’s assistant by the front desk jumps up in surprise, but Seokjin pays him no mind.

Seokjin is so immersed by his own internal monologue that he doesn’t notice the aforementioned librarian’s assistant leave his station with a small handwritten note clutched tightly in his hand. Seokjin also doesn’t notice when he speaks to you with pink dusting the apples of his cheeks before returning to his desk, sans note*.

[Addendum: I’M SO MAD WHY DOESN’T ANYONE NOTICE FUCKING JUNGKOOK??? NEXT TIME I SEE SEOKJIN IT’S ON FUCKING SIGHT HOW DARE HE NOT SEE MY LIL BABY WALK TO HIS ***** AND FULFIL ALL MY HOPES AND DREAMS? I’M GONNA KILL YOU KIM SEOKJIN! (Angrily) Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

It doesn’t take long for Jimin to arrive, and he’s kind of hard to miss with how loud his entrance is. Seokjin nods in approval as the younger enters the drab library with an astounding flourish, complete with his hair gently flowing in the (nonexistent) wind and hips swaying to the (nonexistent) beat.

None of this out of the ordinary, especially with how unfazed the general library populace was to Jimin’s commotion. What is a little different, however, is the beaming, oversaturated, downright diabetic smile on his face, complete with his signature eyes creased into their cute little crescents.

It isn’t that Jimin wasn’t a naturally sunny person; on the contrary, his kind and gregarious personality is what drew Seokjin into shipping him with Hoseok in the first place. But there was something about this level of overflowing giddiness that is a bit… disconcerting, for lack of a better word.

Even you appeared to be dumbstruck by Jimin’s odd mood. You squint curiously at Jimin, taking his worksheets from his hands without another word. Seokjin covertly takes out his phone to pretend to take a selfie, but proceeds to tape the whole tutoring session for him to review later that night. He strains his ears to try and catch the bits and pieces of your conversation with Jimin, but he’s left high and dry when he realizes that you were the type who actually liked to whisper at the library, further foiling his plans.

“Dammit,” he mutters to himself, hastily shoving his “textbooks” into his sling bag as he moves to a table slightly closer to the two of you. He doesn’t bother unpacking them again on the table, foregoing the pretense that he was actually there to “study” when in fact he had goals much loftier than those of an ordinary university student.

He carefully adjusts his camera, trying his best to stay out of your and Jimin’s view. He cranes his head forward as far as he can, face crumpling (handsomely) from the strain.

Seokjin had missed it when he was busy relocating to his better position, but it seems like you had finally gotten fed up with Jimin’s strange behavior. He only sees Jimin look shocked by your irritability, but that quickly fades away as his previously dopey smile comes back at full force. Knowing you, your eye is probably twitching right now, but Seokjin attributes that to the stick permanently stuck up your ass.

“It’s, umm…” Jimin looks extremely bashful all of a sudden, and Seokjin makes sure to zoom in on his face for better analysis later. There’s a slight pause, and both you and Seokjin wait for Jimin to continue. “Do you know… uh…” He takes a deep breath, blushing all the while. “Y/N, you know Lee Sera, right?”

Since you’re faced away from Seokjin, he doesn’t get to see what type of reaction you might be sporting on your face. He has a guess though, and that’s mostly because he already knows what Lee Sera means to you.

Seokjin only just saw the forum post this morning when he was going through his social media. Since he was one of the only people who actually knew you were the author, he’d known from the get-go that Lee Sera had probably written that post revealing herself as the author as a way to get easy clout. Nothing annoyed Seokjin more than people getting more famous than him, so he was honestly a strongly-worded call-out post away from revealing the truth to the masses, but was eventually stopped by the thought of your desperate face from days ago.

As much as Seokjin was a slut for drama, even he isn’t that mean. He can be mean in other ways, such as by putting an ugly filter on your face as he continues to videotape you without your consent. Case in point:

“What?” you say, almost shouting. Unbeknownst to you, there is a pooping baby currently superimposed on your forehead. The film looks shaky at best, but that’s all because of how hard Seokjin is shaking from trying not to laugh.

“Do you know if she likes anyone?” he replies, still dreamy. The AR pooping baby is also on his head, but Jimin manages to pull the look off.

Seokjin waits for your explosion to come, but he underestimates your self-control because he completely misses the next few words you say from how calmly and quietly you speak, though he only imagines that you must be on the way to a mental breakdown soon enough.

The calm before the storm, Seokjin thinks giddily to himself. He could always post your mental breakdown on Youtube for a couple thousand views. C’mon… let’s go viral, baby!

Jimin watches you eagerly from the sides and waits for your response, but you’re too busy short-circuiting right in front of him to give one. Seokjin almost feels sorry for you, but he’s too busy trying not to burst into laughter as it is. God, you’re such a fucking sad mess.

Lucky for you, your timer goes off to signal the end of your tutoring session, and Seokjin notices the way your shoulders slacken with relief. And Jimin seems to have forgotten all about his query because he’s started to pack his things already, humming softly to himself. Once he finishes, he pulls out his phone to read something on his screen, tapping away through his social media as he waits for you to say goodbye.

You’re too busy packing away your own things that you don’t notice when Jimin’s eyes begin to bug out, his mouth dropping and his nostrils flaring with the intensity of his breathing. When he scrolls a little bit further down, he lets out a sharp gasp, catching you and Seokjin off guard.

Jimin has just seen the post, didn’t he? Either that, or he saw porn on his timeline, though Seokjin doesn’t think that would excite Jimin as much as the former would. You seem to guess the same, judging by how stiff you become at his exclamation.

“Y/N! Y/N, she–– she’s––!”

Your fight or flight instincts activate, and Seokjin has to scramble after you as you powerwalk out of the library, desperate to get away from Jimin and his revelation. Unfortunately, you’re not entirely in your best shape right now, so it would be an absolute miracle if you were ever to outpace Park “abs of steel” Jimin. Jimin continues to titter beside you, unaware of the waves of tension running rivers down your form.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she? And she’s so humble to have kept quiet about the whole thing, too. Wah, she’s so…” Seokjin hears Jimin say, and he has to stop himself from snorting at how blatantly love blind Jimin seems to be. Seokjin isn’t anywhere near as good as you when it comes to writing (though he hates to admit it), but even he knows that Lee Sera isn’t as capable as you are. Jimin must really be a sucker for bitches in tight skirts and basic nude pumps because honestly… Why have the knock-off when you can have real Gucci?*

[Addendum: Hey it’s me again�� Just wanted to say… Why is Seokjin lowkey kinda making me wanna ship him with Y/N… This is for real weird… Stop this… I’m scared… Noted by: Confused Min Yoongi.]

“I never really paid it much attention, but now that I’m rereading the poem… she’s so talented.” Jimin continues to gush, and you look half a second away from painting the walls with your vomit. Your head is bowed, so you don’t notice when the library doors open and a student in a loose white shirt and flowy black pants enters, looking as far removed from the environment as Seokjin did. “It’s no wonder it blew up so much, she’s such a gifted––”

“Who’s such a gifted what?” the new intruder asks. Kim Taehyung stops right in front of you in all his indie glory, and the sudden apparition of another of one of your “muses” must have frayed your unraveling mind even further. Seokjin is already turning his camera to your face with a dramatic pan left zoom, the pooping baby filter still on your head. It slips a turd onto your grimacing face.

Jimin, ever the sweet himbo, has already forgotten about you and instead rushes over to Taehyung with the news. “Tae! The author of that poem you’re always raging about––”

Seokjin watches with interest as Taehyung elbows Jimin strongly in the gut, a strong blush coating his cheeks.

Jimin continues, undeterred. “The author of the poem, it’s Lee Sera! I know I always ignored you when you talked about it, but now…” Seokjin has already stopped listening in favor of watching the way Taehyung’s expression slowly morphs from bashful embarrassment to careful indifference. His eyebrows raise even further when Taehyung’s gaze sweeps towards you, unwavering despite the animated prattlings of his best friend beside him.

Inch-resting… Inch-resting indeed…

Seokjin leaves then, not wanting to be caught by any of you as he slinks away unseen. He stops his recording, an array of thoughts swimming through his head as he tries to piece together the puzzle in front of him. He’ll need to follow you, Jimin, and Hoseok again, and he knows in the pit of his stomach that the tsunami is fast approaching.

x x x x x

And so, Seokjin follows the three of you around like a parasite, waiting for any of you to drop the ball on him. It’s the next Monday now, and he’s still not any closer to witnessing the “climax” of his JiHope prophecy. While he is aware that Lee Sera is undoubtedly going to be the catalyst for breaking his ult ship, he can’t exactly fix the problem unless something wrong happens first.

Of course, he could always slip a laxative into Sera’s disgusting tummy tea when she isn’t looking, but Seokjin finished using all of them up when he slipped them into your breakfast a few weeks ago. Plus, drinking tummy tea is punishment enough, so he’ll hold his punches for now.

Seokjin has a strong feeling that today is going to be the day where something finally shifts. He doesn’t know why he thinks this, though he likes to tell himself it’s a God-given gift of JiHope senses, but he digresses.

He’s starting to lose hope in his trusty JiHope senses, however, when he watches another fruitless tutoring session between you and Hoseok. Man, if not for the fact that Seokjin was a delulu JiHope shipper, he’d totally be the type to shove Hoseok down the toilet in middle school. That dude… he’s too smart and studious for him, and Seokjin is always threatened by anyone who can get a score above 4 in an exam.

Hoseok leaves in a rush as per usual, and Seokjin has since figured out that it wasn’t because the English major was keen on rushing back home to jack off. Hoseok’s eyes search around frantically as he exits the library, like he’s afraid of running into a certain someone. It causes Seokjin’s grip on his pencil prop to tighten, so much so that he snaps it in half when he sees it happen for the third session in a row.

The situation in the JiHope fandom is much worse than he can ever imagine, and Seokjin resolves himself to fix it no matter what. He’ll even ask you for help, if worst comes to worst.

Hoseok practically leaves a dust trail in his wake, hurriedly vacating the premises just as you say goodbye. Just as Hoseok leaves, Jimin enters the scene with his signature bubbly laughter echoing through the rows of shelves. Seokjin turns his head towards the sound, but he can feel something is amiss already. There’s… someone with him.

I can smell the cheap drug store perfume all the way from here. Seokjin sneers to himself, crinkling his nose as the sound of another pair of footfalls confirms his suspicions right away. When he turns to look at you, the look of utter rage and disbelief on your face is almost enough to make him forget about the horrendous stench of Lee Sera.

Sera tears herself away from Jimin when she catches sight of you, and Seokjin’s heart clenches when he sees the utter look of confusion replacing the grin on Jimin’s face. She was just draped over Jimin’s arm a few seconds ago, but the complete 180 definitely must have bewildered the poor lovesick fool.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Lee Sera craved the attention she was being given after coming out as the “author” of the poem, though Seokjin finds her neediness distasteful. As someone who loved being in the limelight, Seokjin didn’t go around taking other people’s credit for his success! Clearly, he was the better one (as he always is in any situation).

Anyway, point stands: you look like you’re about to shit yourself from anger. Seokjin isn’t really listening to the conversation between the two of you, instead focusing on both of your body languages. Sera is playing the role of the remorseful peasant, begging for reconciliation from you, the ireful landlady who refuses to watch another second of her quivering lip.

It’s all very dramatic. Even though Seokjin is mostly recording the fight for analysis purposes, he’s probably going to keep the video for archival purposes as well. The rage, the hurt, the chaos… Seokjin could turn this entire narrative into its own wildly popular musical! He would obviously play himself as the omnipotent, all-seeing jack-of-all-trades, and you’d probably be played by some hag he can cast from the street. Seokjin can almost feel the Tony award jutting up his ass.

Slap! Seokjin jerks to attention and his dreams of his musical fade as he watches, slack-jawed, at the aftermath of your rage. The sound reverberates so loudly that Seokjin feels his ears ringing. In his surprise, he instinctively turns off his camera, ready to go and join stop the fight. Before he can take a step forward, however, a whirlwind shoves past him in a blur, but Seokjin already knows from his lean form that Hoseok had come to intervene. Seokjin hadn’t even noticed the lilac-haired boy was still around the library, but it doesn’t matter now that he’s here to save the day like the bishounen protagonist that he is.

Hoseok holds you back, but it does nothing to quell your anger. “How could you say that to him!” you cry, arms struggling to free themselves from Hoseok to throttle Sera. You look a bit like a rabid animal, teeth bared as you squirm in Hoseok’s hold.

To the side, Jimin chokes up in silence. He’s begun to regain his senses, limbs shifting as he prepares to escape. Seokjin doesn’t miss the shine in his eyes, tears forming and threatening to fall. He turns on his feel, high-tailing out of there without another word.

Hoseok says something into your ear and you nod mindlessly in response. He lets you go, watches as you chase after Jimin. His jaw is set, fists clenched by his sides, but he doesn’t make a move to follow. He takes one last look at Sera’s bamboozled expression, tuts angrily to himself, and walks away in the opposite direction.

Seokjin is speechless.

What the fuck was that? Seokjin isn’t a stranger to the current happenings of your sad love heptagon, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. It probably could have been solved much sooner if you just confessed to him already, but he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the drama*.

[Addendum: She literally does not have a crush on Seokjin. If she did, I’d block her immediately. I didn’t raise Y/N for her to fall in love with this psychopath. PLEASE. Signed: Min Yoongi.]

No, Seokjin isn’t confused about the whole Sera thing. What he’s more confused about is why Hoseok isn’t going to comfort his boyfriend lover homie like he’s supposed to! Something must have caused a rift in their friendship, and Seokjin is determined to find out and fix this mess once and for all! There’s no need to fear for Seokjin is here!*

[Addendum: “Hallelujah!” said no one ever. I hate this dude. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

x x x x x

After spending an inexcusable amount of time planning and plotting later that night, Seokjin comes to campus early the next day to put his incredibly profound plan into motion. Lucky for Seokjin, he’s equipped with a myriad of skills that go beyond that of acting and being a nuisance, so it comes as no surprise that he’s quite handy with Photoshop. He uses his Amazing Incredible Fantastic Photoshop skillz to their limits to print out a dozen or so fake posters for a new dance exhibition on Saturday.

Why? Because Seokjin is a genius of course! He knows for certain that Jimin will want to attend the exhibition to cheer himself up after the whole Sera debacle. He always did like watching the university’s dance club from the windows, always wistfully looking but never joining even though he COULD dance if he WANTED to but of course he wouldn’t! Because his beloved Hoseokie-hyung wouldn’t be there to be his partner and it’s all very sad and romantic, yadayadayada… Long story short, Seokjin is whipped for this BL trope and he will die on this hill if he has to!

However, Hoseok is going to be a bit harder to bait... He’d never be caught dead attending a dance exhibition, so Seokjin has to scavenge the last remaining brain cells he has to think of an event that Hoseok would want to go to. He settles on making a fake poster for a book signing by Pi Ness Hughman that is “mandatory” for all English Literature majors to attend. He even goes the whole way and makes a spoof e-mail to send to Hoseok, and no, Seokjin will not be explaining how he did that because he might be bordering on being a criminal, but that doesn’t mean he wants other people to be criminals too. That’s just how great of a person he is!

And what does any of this have to do with anything? Well… He’s going to lock them together inside a classroom and hope that they solve their differences there. Is Seokjin certain that his plan is going to work? Not at all. Is it more likely to use this as an excuse to get inspiration for his upcoming 100K slow burn enemies to lover fic that he’s been planning on starting? Absolutely.

Point of the matter is that Team Kim Seokjin never loses, and he’ll still end up on top even if everything goes to shit, and that is honestly all that matters.

Seokjin proceeds with his plan, going as smoothly as he can. He places the posters around areas that he is sure the duo would pass by. He also makes sure to accidentally “misplace” other posters and advertisements on the cork board that might serve as distractions, but you didn’t hear that from him. He watches stealthily from the shadows, carefully keeping track of their movements to make sure that they see the posters and that everything goes according to keikaku*.

[Addendum: Hey, it’s Yoongi again. I just wanted to say that I saw Seokjin when he was doing this because I caught him taking down some of the ads near my residence, and let me just say that his version of “making sure they see his fake posters” is literally just shoving the papers in their faces and then running away as soon as he can. So, I guess he did succeed on what he aimed to do, but was it moral? Was it just? Well, dear reader… I’m leaving that judgment up to you. (Tiredly) Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

It’s Saturday afternoon and Seokjin has just finished setting up his “trap” when he hears footsteps approaching where he was. He quickly jumps inside a nearby utility closet, keeping the door ajar to observe the upcoming interaction. Seokjin doesn’t even need to look to know that it’s Hoseok who has arrived first, always notoriously strict when it comes to scheduled meetings. He begins to worry, realizing belatedly that Jimin is the exact opposite of Hoseok when it comes to things like this, and while that makes for a good fanfic couple trope, it doesn’t really help Seokjin in this case.

He watches Hoseok peek into the classroom, brows scrunched in confusion as he must wonder why nobody seems to be at the supposed book signing. He snatches the poster from inside his satchel, squinting at the meeting details that should say that his class was supposed to meet at this very much abandoned classroom in the Law building. For how smart Hoseok is, he certainly didn’t question the sketchiness of the venue that Seokjin had chosen.

Hoseok taps his shoes against the linoleum floor, lips pursed as he debates on what to do. Just as Seokjin is about to blow his cover and just shove Hoseok into the classroom himself, a loud bang resounds from the end of the hall. They both flinch, looking over to see a head of red hair zooming towards them.

Jimin is dressed haphazardly in a ripped jean jacket and comically short shorts – you wouldn’t be able to tell what season it was based on his clothes alone. He looks like he’d just jumped out of bed, what with the noticeable drool stain still caked around his chin. He grinds to a halt in front of the classroom, breathing heavily through his mouth and still not yet aware of the company he has found himself with.

“Jimin? What the fuck?” Hoseok exclaims, staring incredulously at him. Jimin finally looks up, pausing in his heavy breathing to stare back.

He straightens up, pointing an accusing finger at the elder. “GASP! What are you doing here?”

Hoseok points his own finger. “Did you just say ‘gasp’ in real life?”

“I asked you first!”

“I asked you second!”

“Well,” Hoseok coughs awkwardly, gesturing to the empty classroom mindlessly. “I’m supposed to be here for a book signing, but I feel like I got a fake ad by accident.”

“Hah! Foolish of you,” Jimin snorts, nose high in the air. He procures his own fake poster from his short pockets, presenting it to Hoseok. “You must be Miss Steak Anne, because this classroom is supposed to be where a dance exhibition is being held. I knew you wanted to watch them dance! You’re just trying to cover up your embarrassment!”

“What?” Hoseok splutters, snatching the poster from his hands. He reads it, narrowing his eyes at Seokjin’s masterpiece of deception. “Dude. The poster is fake too. They spelled ‘dance’ like ‘dunce.’”

Jimin takes it back, slack-jawed when he sees that Hoseok was right. “What the fuck,” he says. He groans, smacking himself in the face. “I’m the foolish one now!”

Before Hoseok can retort, Seokjin chooses that moment to burst forth from his hiding place. “Hello, boys!” he greets, not waiting for a response. The two boys jump in surprise, but they don’t even have time to scream before Seokjin promptly shoves them into the classroom. He clicks the lock in place, grateful that he scouted this place during his first year in case he’d ever need somewhere to lock his unsuspecting classmates in*.

[Addendum: Me. It was me. He locked me in there when I told him JiHope was the worst ship on campus. Y/NKook for life! Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

“Hey! Let us out!” Jimin yells from behind the door, his tiny fists banging uselessly against the door. Seokjin cackles maniacally from the outside, doing a funny dance through the frosted glass window.

“Not until you guys fix whatever angst bullshit you have going on! I’ll be back in an hour. Until then, homos!” Seokjin singsongs, skipping away from the mess he created. But not to worry, dear readers, for Seokjin had planted microphones all over the classroom in advance so that we may all be privy to the ensuing drama/hotness courtesy of JiHope! Oh, how incredibly big-brained of him! The following is a transcript of the aforementioned recording because, as you know, Seokjin always wins.

Transcript by Min Yoongi:*

[Addendum: Paid-slash-blackmailed, by the way. I would never do this willingly. He knows too much about me… It’s sickening but also he offered to buy me chicken nuggets and I’d be an idiot to decline that. Anyway, here’s this pile of shit. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

[0:00] *heavy banging from Jimin’s tiny baby fists*

[0:10] Jimin: Ugh, this shit BLOWS! *proceeds to stomp around like a baby before sliding to the ground with a thud*

[0:20] Hoseok: Well, it could be worse. We could have been kidnapped by a serial killer.

[0:25] Jimin: I’m pretty sure Kim Seokjin categorizes as one, but go off.

[0:30] Hoseok: *grumbling* I’m just trying to lighten the mood.

[0:35] Jimin: Oh wow, thanks soooo much. This is all your fault, by the way. Can’t believe your dumbass got bamboozled by Seokjin.

[0:40] Hoseok: How the fuck is this my fault? You were fooled too! And will you stop sitting like that? I can see everything with how short your shorts are.

[0:45] Jimin: Oh, and now you’re going to police how I dress? Bitch, people would be honored to see my nuts! They’re prized nuts!

[0:50] Hoseok: *snorts* Sure, if you say so.

[0:55] *there is a short pause and you can hear Jimin’s heavy breathing* Jimin, mumbling: Taehyung says my nuts are great…

[1:00] Hoseok: Well, Taehyung is an idiot. He probably says that shit to everybody.

[1:05] Jimin: *gasps* TAKE THAT BACK! HE’S MY FUCKING SOULMATE!”

[1:10] Hoseok: Oh, he’s your soulmate, is he? Guess you like throwing that word around to just about anybody, huh? Because last time, I remember you calling me your soulmate!”

[1:15-6:15] *literally just five minutes of silence* *you can hear Jimin crying a little bit but it’s obvious he’s trying to hold it in* *Hoseok (?) or maybe Jimin is pacing around*

[6:20] Hoseok: I, uhh... *hesitates some more* I didn’t... Mean to say that.

[6:25] Jimin: *starts to laugh hysterically* Fuck…

[6:30] Jimin: *slams his tiny baby hand against the wall again* Fuck!

[6:35] Jimin, choking up: You didn’t mean to say what? That we really were soulmates? That we used to be best friends?

[6:40] Hoseok, quietly: Jimin... No, I meant––

[6:45] Jimin: What do you mean, huh? I can never understand you. You never explain yourself. It’s always a guessing game with you and I just end up getting my feelings hurt because I always make the wrong assumptions, isn’t that right?

[7:00] Hoseok, choking up: Of course not. You’re right, I’m stupid and––

[7:05] Jimin, yelling: That’s right! You are fucking stupid! You’ve been stupid since day one and I can’t believe I wanted to be friends with you! *sniffles loudly* And I’m even stupider for still wanting to be friends with you.

[7:20-7:30] *there is a long silence except for the sound of Jimin’s heavy sniffling*

[7:35] Hoseok, sighing: I know that I don’t deserve to be your friend. I’m ashamed. I’m so fucking ashamed. There isn’t a day where I don’t regret not telling you about giving up dance all those years ago. I should’ve been more open with you.

[7:50] *Jimin stops sniffling* Jimin: Yeah. You should’ve. You should be. Asshole.

[8:00] Hoseok: And every time I try telling myself that I should apologize, I’d just get cold feet. It got even worse when you started hanging around Taehyung more... And I just... Lost it.

[8:10] Jimin, laughing harshly: Oh? So you were fucking jealous? Please.

[8:15] Hoseok: It sounds childish, but yea. I was.

[8:20] Jimin, quietly: Oh.

[8:30] Hoseok: And then when I saw you hanging off of Sera’s stupid little finger like a lovesick fool, it... It really fucking messed me up.

[8:40] Jimin: Oh my god. Was that why you’ve been so moody these past few days? Holy shit.

[8:45] Hoseok: When you put it that way... Ugh, this is so embarrassing. I’m really not a feelings guy, you know? I’m always just supposed to be the happy-go-lucky sunshine guy.

[9:00] Jimin: You’re allowed to feel, you know? Get rid of that toxic masculinity bullshit you have going on. This is why we fucking drifted in the first place!

[9:10] Hoseok, laughing hoarsely: Yeah... You’re right. *sound of a body sliding down to the floor... Hoseok must have sat beside Jimin*

[9:30] Jimin: We are literally so stupid. Do you realize how dumb our arguments sound? We’re being so childish, and for what?

[9:40] Hoseok: *sighing* I know… I’m the asshole here. I know what I did and I’m the reason why our friendship shifted. I’ve never been considerate to you and now…

[9:50] Hoseok: You probably hate me. And I used to tell myself that it’s better that you moved on but I know the reason why you never applied for the dance program is because of me.

[10:00] Jimin: I mean, yeah. That’s true.

[10:05] Hoseok: Wait, the asshole part or…

[10:10] Jimin: Pretty much everything. Yes, you’re the asshole. Yes, you ruined our friendship. Yes, I didn’t apply for the dance program because of you.

[10:15] Hoseok: *sighing* And you probably hate me, right?

[10:20] Jimin, softer: No, of course not. I could never hate you, hyung. Hell, I thought you hated me! You never hang out with me anymore! I literally only started taking those tutoring lessons from Y/N so that I would have an excuse to see you sometimes.

[10:35] Hoseok: ...oh. I didn’t know… I guess I’ve been a little bit too self-absorbed.

[10:45] Jimin: Understatement of the century, hyung. I just fucking miss you, okay? *sniffles loudly* God, I am so sick of crying all the time! First that shit with Sera, and now this…

[10:55] Hoseok: *panicking* Shit! Jimin-ah, please don’t cry… I’m such a fuck up! Why do you even want to hang around me?

[11:05] Jimin: Don’t you get it? You’re my best friend! How could I just erase years of friendship over what? Just because you don’t wanna dance anymore? Listen, I know I always pester you to go dance with me again, but I’d be more than happy just having you as my friend. I don’t care about that shit anymore! I just want you to look at me without looking so fucking guilty all the time.

[11:35] Hoseok: Well… I still want to dance. All the time, believe me. But… I can’t go around wasting my time when I made a promise to my dad.

[11:45] Jimin, hesitantly: Your… your dad?

[11:50] Hoseok: Yeah. He told me it was his greatest wish if I followed in his footsteps and became a teacher… I’m sorry, Jimin. I couldn’t just let my old man down like that. I…

[12:00] Jimin: Oh my god. You idiot. You fucking dunce. You dick for brains.

[12:05] Hoseok: What the fuck? What did I do now?

[12:10] Jimin: Have you ever considered… that you could teach shit other than English? Huh?

[12:15] *Hoseok.exe has stopped working*

[12:20] Jimin: Oh my god! I have a fucking feeling your dad meant he just wanted to see you teach kids, not necessarily become an English teacher like he was! You fucking stupid piece of shit!

[12:30] Hoseok: I… literally didn’t think. How the fuck..?

[12:35] Jimin: Are you literally just telling me right now that we could’ve escaped 3 years of stupid misunderstanding if you just hadn’t been an idiot? Give me a break! How the hell do you think you’d ever become a teacher?!

[12:50] *there is a pause before the two of them start laughing loudly*

[13:00] Hoseok: Jesus. Guess I really am the asshole, huh?

[13:05] Jimin: You think? Ugh, maybe getting locked in a classroom with you isn’t so bad after all…

[13:10] Hoseok: Speaking of… When do you think Seokjin is gonna let us out of here? I kinda need to piss and as happy as I am to be your friend again, I don’t think I wanna relive our toddler years together either.

[13:20] Jimin: *snorts* Gross. *shuffling* Hyung! Stand here! I’m gonna climb you and try to open the latch to the window over there. Shouldn’t be that far of a jump. Then I’ll just open the door for you.

[13:40] Hoseok: Jimin, are you insane? That could be dangerous! Let me do it.

[13:50] Jimin: You and what? Your skinny ass? Please! Do you see the gloriousness of this ass? I can get us out of here in no time.

[14:00] Hoseok, whispering: Assuming you can even squeeze through the window…

[14:05] Jimin, yelling: EXCUSE ME? I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT THIS ASS HAS WON ME MANY FREE MCDONALD’S HAPPY MEALS IN MY DAY––

End of Audio

x x x x x

Yoongi pauses from his typing to recheck the file, making sure he hadn’t accidentally paused the recording. When he sees that the audio does end there, he leans back into his chair, letting his headphones fall back to settle around his neck. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, sending a quick text to Seokjin to ask what happened to the two stupid lovebirds.

288 notes · View notes

kuromantic · 5 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 1: Shaky Hands

Gulp, gulp, gulp.

Kuroo downs his fifth can of coffee that week.

It’s only Wednesday, but he’s exhausted, to the point where he relies completely on the temporary high of caffeine that keeps him going. The key word is temporary, but he can't bring himself to care.

“All right, gather up the tests from the back.”

It’s mid-term tests week, and volleyball practices have screeched to a halt just for this. Kuroo’s been jittery and anxious all week, but he can’t let that show. And he won’t let it show, by pretending excessive caffeine consumption solves everything.

“Phew, that was… pure fuckin’ torture.”

Once the last of the exams are done, Kuroo slumps on his desk, just beside Yaku. Studying advanced chemistry is not easy, and he’s sure his temporary high will come crashing down soon.

Kuroo instinctively reaches for some spare change and grabs some coffee milk, the only caffeinated drink in the school’s vending machine that he can stand. Yaku eyes him like a hawk, rubbing his forehead with his palm.

“Kuroo, don’t get addicted. I’ve seen the amount of coffee you’ve been drinking.”

Really, Kuroo has to disagree. Yaku hasn’t seen the amount of caffeinated drink cans at the bottom of the bins in Kuroo’s house. But he shrugs, gulping down another can as if it’s yakult.

That night, Kuroo lies awake, eyes painfully alert. He’s had two cans, less than his weekly average. But it’s enough to send his brain into overdrive anyway. His heart is too quick, too loud.The constant thumping in his chest is amplified.

The next morning, Kuroo’s mouth is craving coffee. But there’s none in his house. He stuffs his face with rice and vegetables, attempting to mask the obvious desire for caffeine that physically pains him.

He’s not going to prove Yaku right. He hates it when Yaku is right. He’ll use it as a ‘gotcha’ whenever he screws up, which, admittedly, is usually his own damn fault. But Yaku, when right, is a special kind of annoying.

The next day, his coffee intake drops to zero.

It’s not as hard as he initially thought. It’s mildly inconvenient, but he forcefully quenches his thirst with a salty lychee drink, until his desire to drink anything is vanquished.

And at around midday, the headaches begin. They slam into his head full force, torturing his brain with waves of pain. The back of his eyes throb non-stop. He needs something to alleviate it. No, he knows what he needs to alleviate it.

But the voice in his head reminds him not to give in. It’s Yaku’s voice, warning him not to feed into his addiction any further. He downs another bottle of nata de coco drink instead. He feels bloated and uncomfortable, but full.

The first day of quitting is terrible, but he falls into the best sleep he’s had all week.

The second day is hell on earth.

The headache he’s sporting has morphed into the mother of all migraines. His head feels like it’s emulating a thousand different sirens, blaring in his head and screaming at him. It’s nothing short of pure torture, and he doesn’t even want to move a muscle, let alone head to school.

He has to head to school, though. Third year, and everything that comes with it, waits for him. He hates everything. His joints seem to creak and roar like a rusty door hinge, and he feels immense sympathy for his grandmother. His body’s aged about fifty years overnight.

“Oi! Get up! We’re going to the labs!”

Kuroo is jabbed with a mechanical pencil by one of his classmates, just as he thought his headache was marginally better. He feels like throwing a hard punch right there and then, but stops himself. He has to get up.

The migraine is continuous. He wants to cut off his head at this point, because he’s positive it would hurt less. When he heads to volleyball practice, the hammering in his head only intensifies. His eyeballs feel like they’re getting pushed out his socket.

“Ah! I’m sorry!”

Lev screeches out an apology, as his flubbed receive goes flying towards the sidelines. Normally, he would only receive a mild tongue-lashing by Yaku, but nothing is normal today. Kuroo is the first one to groan. Why can’t his teammates do what they need to do?

Kuroo manages to hold his tongue, by some miracle. Despite the pain that can be likened to tiny dwarves drilling inside his skull, he minds his own business and focuses on his blocks.

“Kuroo, watch out!”

The volleyball slams into Kuroo’s back, and hard. His joint pain increases tenfold, and the rage chokes him so much he can hardly breathe. His exhales are ragged, as blood rushes to his face. Everything is uncomfortable.

“I- I’m so sorry, Kuroo-san! Are you okay?” Lev turns to him, terrified.

Kuroo turns to glare at him, but his gaze is more murderous than annoyed. “Receive the ball properly, you fucking dumbass! Are you even trying?”

“Hey!” Yaku is the first one to put a stop to the Lev-bashing, of all people. “Chill out, Gordon Ramsay. Whatever shit you’re going through, don’t take it out on him.”

Kuroo swallows hard, noticing all eyes on him. Kenma is staring at him with worry-filled eyes, and Kuroo wants to cry.

“Sorry.” Kuroo musters a half-assed apology. He can tell he’s brought the entire team down, because he’s so stupid and careless and a horrible person. His self-esteem is plummeting.

He just wants to sleep.

Kenma pops a chocolate button in his mouth, and Kuroo would give anything to have one. The thought of drinking coffee makes him feel nauseous. Anything for the sugar rush. Anything to get his blood sugar levels blasting through the roof. He wants a temporary high.

“Kuro, you all right?”

The train rocks him unpleasantly, leaving his limbs throbbing. The motion makes him feel horribly queasy. “I don’t know,” he whispers, leaning into Kenma. “I haven’t been feeling too good these past few days.”

“I know, Kuro. But you gotta ride it out.” Kenma pats his hair softly, kissing the top of his head. “You’re gonna be okay. Take care of yourself, promise?”

But Kuroo doesn’t feel okay. His hands shake as he tries to eat breakfast. He drops the chopsticks more than once. He doesn’t even want to eat, but he doesn’t have the heart to refuse the food his grandmother prepared for him.

“Hey, Kuroo, you’re not eating?”

Yaku prods at him, when lunch rolls around. Kuroo really, really doesn’t want to put anything near his mouth. In addition to the headache that makes him want to tear his head off, his stomach has started cramping horribly. It's like he's lactose intolerant, and just had twenty pounds of cheese.

“Don’t wanna. Not feeling great.” Kuroo mutters, laying his head on the desk. He’s overcome with dizziness, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. He wants relief. Right now.

“You look like absolute shit.” Yaku sighs. Someone has to say it. “Does it hurt somewhere? You should probably get some water.”

He hands Kuroo a bottle of water, and Kuroo almost drops it. His hands tremble violently, likening his mannerisms to someone with a serious addiction. But he’s not addicted. He’s already quit. It barely lasted.

“Shit.” Yaku notices how unsteady his hands are, and puts everything together. “It’s from the caffeine, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo finds himself nodding. He doesn’t even know why he’s been so stubborn in pretending he’s fine. He hates everything. He hates how he feels. “I… really don’t feel good. My head hurts so bad, and I feel like I’m going to throw up…”

“Go home for today. I’ll give you all the notes when you get better.” Yaku advises him, gripping his pale hands. “I’ll go call Kenma.”

As anticipated, Kenma gives him a look of disappointment when he meets him outside the school gates. But he doesn’t say anything, and simply holds Kuroo’s hand all the way to the train station.

“I wish you’d take better care of yourself.” Kenma murmurs, massaging Kuroo’s fingers gently. “I thought I could believe in you.”

Kuroo stops shaking when Kenma holds him. He lets Kenma’s hands calm his own, and shuts his eyes, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Kenma.”

#whumptober2019 #no.1 #shaky hands #kuroken #Kuroo Tetsurou #Kozume Kenma #caffeine withdrawal

54 notes · View notes

mutantsrisingrpg · 5 years ago

Photo

Congratulations DEAN! You’ve been accepted as JANUS with a FC change to CASEY DEIDRICK.

Dean, first let me say that when I saw an app from you in our inbox I screamed! Now, onto business. The way you created a backstory for Jackson that starts in Las Vegas and ends in Chicago kept me hanging on each and every word. I have to admit, the detail about how there’s only one form of identification with his true face and name was one of my favorite parts! I also loved how you broke name his name - it’s a little detail that went a long way in figuring out who Jackson is. We’re so excited to have you back on the dash and with our Janus!

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

NAME/ALIAS: Dean

PRONOUNS: She/her

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT, fairly active

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Jackson Sawyer Raemers

GENDER/PRONOUNS: He/him

DETAILS & ANALYSIS: This is where you show us who the character is to you! The format of this doesn’t matter, whether it’s in bullet points or in para form, and can be as long as you’d like it to be. Feel free to get creative!

The name Jackson is a Scottish name. In Scottish the meaning of the name Jackson is: God has been gracious; has shown favour. Based on John or Jacques.

Sawyer was an English meaning, a occupational name for someone who earned his living by sawing wood, Middle English saghier, an agent derivative of sagh(en) ‘to saw’.

Raemers based on Ramer, The oldest form of the name is “Reinmar” or “Reginmar,” which literally meant “famous councillor.” Always prominent in social affairs.

He’s a walking contradiction, his mind never 100% made on a singular motive and distraction easily pulled him from one thing to the next. Jackson’s chaos is a subtle one, orchestrated solely for his own enjoyment until there’s reason to repel against something or someone. Opinionated in a way in which his argument could be swerved from one side the the other only because he wanted to play devil’s advocate and test other people’s beliefs because it gives him comfort to see witness the grey spots in other’s morals.

A lot of what he does was born from his own insecurities, the voice in the back of his head telling him that we were more worthless than the dirt on the bottom of his shoes. So he hides his true self carefully, uses masks of humour and then hides behind other peoples identities. Carefully packaging away his own demons with false confidence that couldn’t be questioned.

BIO:

Fraud and robberies became second nature, easier than breathing yet essential to keep his head from sinking below the water. It was ironic, how swift his own actions turned from survival to pure indulgence. Disordered violence increasingly becomes addictive due to the way it supplied him with a steady rush of endorphins. The taste of rebellion even more rewarding when it was fuelled by the very mutation that he’d been discriminated for his entire life. He’d unlocked his true potential, a criminal with the ability to morph fluidly from one appearance to the next.

He supposes it was a form of obsession, in contrast to his former self, an upbringing spent repressing his powers to appease his terrified parents who feared the opinion of the neighbourhood than what may become of their son by neglecting a key part of his identity. Living life as an outlaw, adorning himself in tourist t-shirts and tacky dollar store sunglasses was a vast improvement. A lifestyle that saw him existing out of the trunk of his car, mustard stains from a drive-thru burger discolouring the map which lay open on his passenger seat, red ink circling his next destination. He couldn’t picture himself living an average life, didn’t want to be another cog in a well oiled cooperate machine where he’d become just another number sat at a desk until he’d worked up enough hours to pay off a mortgage.

Jackson’s luck fell short, naturally, the second his car pulled into sin city. Las Vegas with the luminosity of neon lights and slot machines was the single worst decision he could have made. Worse than disowning his family, worse than his impulsive decision making when getting tattoos and maybe even worse than the time he’d shifted into the body of a girl scout in some desperate attempt of getting a dozen boxes of thin mints free of charge. But like a moth to a flame, it was the adrenaline that led him to do it. Shifting from one casino owner to the next, he’d committed fraud multiple times each night and donate the remainder of the money after he’d loaded up on hawaiian shirts and sugary snacks, to organisations working against mutant laws and discrimination. Like a modern day Robin Hood, only driving a rusted up old Chevrolet in dire need of a new paint job.

It’s a mixture of arrogance and a blimp in his concentration that causes it to all unravel. Facading as a beer bellied Elvis impersonator in one of the chapels, he’d spent the evening pick pocketing gambling money from unsuspecting intoxicated couples who’d been making poor life decisions. It was easy work which naturally meant he’d become sloppy, the sort of stupidity that lands him an evening in police custody and unable to show any identification on himself other than a driving license that matches his true appearance. Jackson Sawyer Raemers, born November 22nd in the state of Arizona, an individual with an outstanding warrant for his arrest and a suspected mutant. There’s no court trial, no mention of imprisonment or bail. Instead he’s transported overnight to a medical research facility, sedated and left to answer for his crimes in what he would deem to be the pits of hell.

He’s carefully monitored, pumped with medication and used as a lab rat for illnesses to watch how his mutation may help him to recover- if at all. Cut open and stitched together again, regular interviews for insights on his ability and encouraged with rewards to see how far he could push his powers under supervision. Of course those rewards never met anything more exciting than a pudding cup with lunch or a ten minute stoll in the security monitored outdoor area. The three years he’s trapped there he learns a few things about himself and his mutation; no matter how many times they tried they couldn’t replicate it in a tube, even with the ability of cell reconstruction this hadn’t granted him immunity from the common cold and pudding cups definitely weren’t worth the amount effort he’d been putting in for them.

It was entirely by chance that a group of enraged mutants in the facility had grouped together to form a riot. The building caught up in an intentional blaze that triggered cell doors to swing open and allow their occupants to vacate. With such a perfect diversion in place, Jackson takes his opportunity to escape by shifting into the appearance of one of the women who had been treating him. Able to use her fingerprints to unlock the exit, the first thing he does is hot wires the Mercedes in the parking lot and takes off back on the road. They say old habits die hard, much could be said the same for Jackson. How easily he fell back into his old games of identity theft as if three years worth of reflection had taught him nothing.

He returns to what he does best, only now it was personal, the lust of rebellion replaced with spite for those who had been disceting him like a science project. Jackson spends his time examining the faces that appear in the media voice against mutant rights and the research entrepreneurs that treated as nothing more than a paycheck. It’s how he finds himself in Chicago, rumoured a place that was almost a santuary for mutants where he’d be able to meet like minded individuals. And of course, it’s how he finds The Jem Family. He’s still not entirely sure why Damien had taken a liking towards him, his only redeemable factor being that he was reckless enough to not question any given orders in which other members may shudder at. It was an overwhelming sense of finally belonging to something, that he’d mattered outside of his own world and could really make a difference.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Luca Medoza: He finds them entertaining, his own laid back rebellion in contrast to something much bolder. Subtle versus out right in your face. He’d spend a lot of time with Luca, telling her what had happened in the latest true crime series he’d been watching and not minding too much when the only thing she picks up on was that he’d spent 10 hours straight binge watching on Netflix again.

Neve Kaplan: She’s the first person in a long time that he doesn’t hide any aspect of himself from. He let her see every aspect of his personality, the gritty details and forbidden secrets he hadn’t dared to share with anyone else. For a while she’d been his home, the missing part of the puzzle that could take the bitterness away and ease his own reckless behaviours, until she’s gone. It still stings when he see’s her, but it’s also a pleasant reminder that at least what he’d felt had been real.

Cain Douglas: He gets pleasure out of his visits and will show up even if the damage is nothing spectacular. He’s absolutely rolled up with a paper cut before and made it out as if he’d lost a limb over texts on his way there. Jackson gets most his kicks from aggravating the hell out of people and with Cain it was almost too easy. Although when he is genuinely hurt it does become a little more difficult of Cain to take him seriously with all the jokes he plays. Sometimes he’ll fake an injury just to get some advice, doctors and therapists are basically the same thing, right?

EXTRA: This section is completely optional. You can add anything here such as: more para samples, headcanons, mock blogs, edits, playlists, etc. Please note that because it is optional, putting everything or nothing in this section will not be a determining factor in your application. This is just for fun!

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/dean_ie/janus/

Tag: https://stereotypicalcancerwrites.tumblr.com/tagged/ch:%20jackson%20raemers

-Jackson is obsessed with snacking, or any opportunity to stuff his face with food really. He’ll take it personal if you go out for a meal and he doesn’t get an invite.

-He can’t function without a morning coffee. 3 shots served black with one spoonful of sugar. He’ll have another at noon because he’s a night owl and eternally paying the price.

-He has a fear of blood, it makes him feel dizzy and he’s absolutely the worst person to have around if you were in a serious injury. He’d pass out before you would.

-Jackson can sing The Element Song by Tom Lehrer perfectly from memory.

-He has a habit of seeing the world from a very cynical perspective and is always anticipating the worst to happen in any given situation. It allows him to feel less surprised or out of control when things do turn sour.

-Jackson has a doberman named Bella, as in Bella Swan- he was trying to be funny

-He doesn’t trust easily and as a result he’s pretty distant. He’s always got a guard up and is very reluctant to let people into his life as most people that have seen the real him have resulted in negative connotation.

-He is allergic to shellfish so if someone wanted to kill him…

-He is always using humour and bad behaviour as a defense mechanism from people getting too close to see the real him.

-He had a stutter as a kid due to low self-esteem. It occasionally comes back when he’s stressed or upset. It’s one of the giveaways for his shapeshifting.

-Jackson is a reckless driver

-He’s obsessed with 1970s music

-Jackson is a hoarder, he collects a lot of pointless stuff like the top of bottle caps, funny slogan tshirts and cheap sunglasses from dollar stores

-He hates having to dress up formally, he feels like it draws attention to him and not in a funny showing off sort of way

-He has numerous tattoos and none of them were what you’d consider ‘good’, they’re shitty or only there to illustrate some pun or memory of a drunken evening. He’s upset some of the scars from the research facility have beheaded a hulahooping stick men on his leg.

ANYTHING ELSE: Did you have any questions or any changes you wanted to discuss with us beforehand?

FC change to Casey Deidrick

#accepted: janus #accepted

1 note · View note

unholyhelbiglinked · 5 years ago

Text

Summer of 89′ | 003

Read from the start | Read on AO3

There was an undertone of bleach in the air. Something that didn’t hit Chloe the second she walked through the sliding doors. Instead, it was gradual. Creeping up the back of her throat and clouding her lungs until she couldn’t recognize it at all. It used to bother her, the scent of bleach.

Everything was too clean in the hospital for her liking. She had grown up in a home that wasn’t afraid to get dirty. Mud was tracked against the kitchen floor when a good heaping of rain was dumped on their ranch property. The tub was rimmed with a line of black after every bath as a child- because dirt was natural. Messes were natural, or at least they were when it was anywhere but here.

Chloe closed her umbrella, letting the stray drops of water slide down her hand and past the cuff of her jacket until the cold streak touched her elbow. She dug her boots into the black mat right past the doors, leaving behind the very dirt she was self-conscious enough not to leave tracked against the Hospital lobby.

It was relatively desolate considering the full moon hung in the sky like a golden ornament on a Douglas fir. It wasn’t peak flu season, and Chloe thanked the higher powers for that. But that didn’t’ stop everyone from faking coughing fits and begging her to test for a fever one more time because their temperature was sure to have spiked over the last two minutes.

She punched the code into the worn-down pad next to the second set of doors and was met with another long white corridor lined with shy wooden doors. The sound of machines whirring, and IV’s dripping carried on like white noise. She walked with confidence.

“Doctor-“The voice echoed against the walls as one of her latest interns trotted up next to her. Her magenta scrubs stuck out like a beacon in a white sea. She quickly flipped the metal chart back to reveal a paper. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was wondering if you could take a look at the medications given to 207. Doesn’t seem right to me.”

She was annoyed. She would have been annoyed at anyone at this moment, reminding her of a job she kept for one summer at a sandwich shop. Customers came so frequently that that same disgruntled edge of dissatisfaction pulled at her. Still, she nodded and glanced at the chart.

Sixty-four-year-old Damion Coves. A repeat offender of the Emergency room, once or twice a month if Chloe could remember. A strong reason she had given the patient to her Intern in the first place. Sometimes it was a broken arm, but most of the time it was in relation to a back problem he refused to fix. He had worked as a fisherman for countless years, hauling product and gutting sea life.

“Hydrocodone and acetaminophen?” Chloe mumbled, as she furrowed her brow and looked up at the doe-eyed girl.

“Yes, Ma’am. He’s been complaining about the pain escalating. Demerol hasn’t done the job in quite some time and by the looks of it, he’s refusing the surgery.”

Chloe hummed, “He doesn’t like his odds against the possibility of being paralyzed from the waist down. Switch these to Propoxyphene. Damion Coves is an alcoholic, the second you pump him full of those and send him on his way he’ll stumble off the docks.” She shoved the metal chart back into her hands “Get to know your patient. You can smell the bourbon on his breath from a mile away.”

She continued her journey until she made it to her office. It was three corridors deep, surrounded by cool cement and filled with old copy boxes that had case files. Ways she would teach her interns with gallbladder removals and that one stomach-churning patient who was almost sawed in half at the old mill.

Chloe breathed in the musty scent and flicked on the light. Her desk was the only clear thing about the office- despite her working here for four years, having the place all to herself. There was one picture of her girls hidden away in the bottom compartment of her filing cabinet. Her computer was covered in yellow sticky notes, and a nametag rested in the center of the surface.

“Ilene” She scoffed before pulling on the white coat slung over the chair and clipping the metal to the collar.

Her rounds started in a few minutes, she left the stuffy office and walked back into the sterilized hallway. She made it the nurse’s desk without another interruption and grabbed the stack of metal charts left by the attending on first shift.

“How are you tonight, Chloe?” her breath caught, she was halfway through the notes on Mrs. Robinson’s chart. She silently cursed herself for not hearing the heels against the linoleum. “Ilene.”

She drew in a deep breath, “Oh, absolutely fantastic, love these overnights.”

“fewer people.”

Chief Mary Saxe leaned against the counter next to Chloe, a smug look on her face. She had pulled her hair from the usual bun and let the curls move over her shoulders in waves. She was graying but in the most flawless way possible. Her jacket was pressed and her shirt was tucked in with professionalism despite the ungodly hour.

She had a point. It was quiet at night, visiting hours had faded away to nothing and the only people Chloe had to deal with were those listed in the charts, and whoever found themselves in the ER with appendicitis or a fever too high to register.

The two of them started walking towards the front of the corridor again, a round of silence plaguing them both before Chloe spoke. “You don’t have to babysit me, I’m fine.”

“I’m going to pretend I believe you.” She stalled before grasping Chloe’s elbow and bringing her to a halt. “I’ve known you for a hell of a long time, practically watched you grow up. You always get weird around today.”

Chloe swallowed roughly “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m here to do my job. Save lives and kick ass. Your motto, remember?”

“No, yes, I remember just. I’m speaking to you as a friend, not a colleague here. If you need to leave, I understand.”

“And I’m telling you as your friend, I’m okay. In fact, I would rather be around other people then shut in my room binge-watching the bachelor with a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. So, can we please get on with rounds and just drop this?”

Doctor Saxe stared at her for a few moments, trying to figure out if Chloe was being genuine or not. She eventually decided that it didn’t matter if she was. Both of them continued on their way and made it to the first patient behind curtain number one.

It always felt like a game show to her. She never knew what would be behind the thin veil of plastic. Of course, she could always look at the chart before she went in. But that would take the fun and surprise out of it all.

The same intern that had approached her earlier about Damion seemed to have done all the heavy lifting. The little boy that sat on the bed directed his strained attention. His hair was adhered to his head with rainwater and mud. His arm was being placed carefully into a splint, and his mother was pacing a hole into the linoleum.

She stopped mid-stride and turned her hawked expression to the two doctors. “oh thank god, this girl looks too young to be a doctor.”

“Ma’am, I assure you, Stephanie has gone through all four years of medical school.” Chloe said slowly “And she’s doing a fantastic job. Mind telling me how this happened?”

She quickly forgot her anger towards the doctor, switching the string of her own son instead. “I told him not to go outside. Said that there was a storm coming and it was best to stay out of that old treehouse of his. But he never listens. The wood got too slick and he fell, broke his arm.”

She nodded and Doctor Saxe watched the situation unfold. She stayed silent, keeping a lingering eye on Chloe more than anything. Her arms were crossed and Chloe minded herself, directing her next questions towards where the kid sat and kicking his feet.

“Anything else hurt, little man?”

“Nothing does.” The mother answered in a clipped tone instead. Cutting off her son completely.

Doctor Saxe capped her hands together once and boasted a smile. “Okay! Stephanie, ma’am, why don’t’ we go out into the hallway to discuss how to take care of that cast. I know it’ll be hard to keep it dry in this weather- but we’re going to show you how.”

Chloe mouthed a thinly veiled ‘thank you’ as the woman and her intern cleared the room completely so she could do the rest of the exam. She slid on violet gloves and pulled a stool over to the young boy. He seemed comfortable, if not sleepy from today’s events. There was a thin line of blood on his chin and another on his forehead.

“Did you hit your head at all, when you fell?”

He gestured no “I don’t think so, I heard my arm break. Johnny broke his arm at the ice rink two years ago and it sounded the exact same. I didn’t think it would hurt that bad.”

“Oh?” Chloe gave him a smile, gently getting a better look at the lacerations “Yeah, it’s not the greatest feeling in the world but you know what? You’re very brave for getting through it. And look at that amazing cast you have! Is blue your favorite color?”

“Yes! And look, someone already signed it!”

Chloe lifted her eyebrows. Stephanie had just been finishing it up when they walked into the room. His mother must have worked fast, maybe even kept a sharpie in her purse wedged between some hard candies and wet wipes.

“see.”

Dread owned Chloe Beale in that moment. Directed all of her thawed blood to rush past her ears and her vision to fog up. She stared at the words scribbled in silver sharpie against the polymer-coated cast. The lettering was neat and precise, too well thought out to be ignored. Too concrete to be imagined.

Summer of 89, remember?

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe beale #Emily Junk #Aubrey Posen #Bechloe #Junksen #Fanfiction #request

4 notes · View notes

rozeabortion · 1 year ago

Photo

Abortion Pills Around Mbombela (0769939069) (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1389280336-abortion-pills-around-mbombela-0769939069?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=rozeabortion&wp_originator=HEpx7h6lzjQ0QtJXv67AVTjdRWNjv8S6GX4I3gUVaL1lGQnNuXOrV9Hv%2BMfsssj%2FfzWVMCTEah0E23raJt4VsIw8KhLSwkCmEMe8zqZPIaDBiDNzFgfm9UFext0T5AdW Abortion Pills Around Mbombela (0769939069) Our doctors and nurses are very experienced in both medical and surgical abortion. We use the best and safest termination method available, and the Medical Center has won high ratings for safety and care. Your abortion is our concern, and all your personal information will be kept completely private when needed. There are restrictions on age, period, and permission needed from parents or partners. Rose Abortion Clinic offers free abortion pregnancy testing. we use safe abortion pills. All insurances are accepted, and reasonable self-pay plans are available. We work with Abortion Funding Sources to ensure everyone gets access to abortion services. Call Rose at 0769939069 or WhatsApp for more information. Call us now at 0769939069 0769909369 hopewomensclinic.com Surgical Abortion Mbombela are done the same in the main clinic the doctor uses a small machine to pull everything out of the procedures depending on how long you have been pregnant. Surgical abortions are done as a day care procedure so you will not have to stay in the clinic overnight. Discharge times differ depending on the length of the pregnancy and on the anaesthetic used. This procedure is known as a Manual Vacuum Aspiration (MVA) whose pregnancy lasts up to 12 weeks. The cervix is then gently stretched using dilators and the contents of the uterus are removed through a suction tube and are not painless like before. The procedure takes 15 to 20 minutes to perform and you are able to eat and drink as normal. Call us now at 0769939069 0769909369 hopewomensclinic.com

#abortion #abortionclinic #clinic #medical #safe #short-story #books #wattpad #amreading

0 notes

bettsfic · 6 years ago

Note

sleep!anon: (1) god it feels so good to have someone understand. i only realised at about 17 that i must have spent half of my life being tired and not knowing it. after that, i started sleeping more, and after some self tests, i realised about 10.5 hours seems to be the sweet spot (9.5-10 i can get by, but over time, it gets worse), which was perfectly feasible at school/uni, but 9-5 is more troublesome. i sleep about 9.5-10 hours, nap on the train over (about 20 mins)

(2) and even then, still have to catch usually at least one (sometimes more) discreet 10 minute nap at some point during work. like you, i usually REALLY need it around 3-4PM. and i hate feeling tired at work because then every mistake i make, i'm like is this me? or is this just bc i'm so f*cking tired? like, sometimes when i'm trying to nap at work, i can feel how tired i am and knowing i'm not alseep makes me want to cry. i genuinely feel like i'm halfway to having a breakdown sometimes

(3) i'm not surprised that feeling anxious/stressed means you need more sleep - it's really taxing mentally and physically to be stressed. now you've said that, i wonder if mine has been getting worse recently because of the stress/anxiety i have over mistakes and how tired i am etc... GOD don't get me started on people who call you lazy. i think some folks think it's a joke, haha ur so lazy lol, but i would give ANYTHING to be able to live like them. to feel rested after 7-9 hours.

(4, final) i can't even comprehend what life like that would be like. imagine not having to regiment my bedtime so strictly, actually waking up in the morning and not wanting to d*e. like, my life revolves around controlling my sleep, and then people turn around and call me lazy? do not like. anyway, sorry to go off, just feels so good to talk to someone who understands! in any case, how did you go about doing a sleep study? i've thought about it but not sure if it's worth it?

i’m not sure if you’ve considered it, but you might have sleep apnea. it’s the most common sleep disorder and it sounds like you have a lot of the symptoms. like if you’re asphyxiating in your sleep, you’re not hitting REM, so you need to sleep longer. if you do a sleep study, the apnea tests come first. for me, they gave me a take-home test which is cheapest and easiest, and i tested negative for that, but the home test has a lot of false negatives (but not false positives), so they had me come in for an overnight stay. i tested negative for that, and the narcolepsy test is during the day.

that’s it, that’s all they can test for. narcolepsy, delayed phase sleep, and hypersomnia all use the same test and all have virtually the same treatment. if you have apnea, you sleep with this machine thing on your face. a friend of mine uses it and it completely changed his life. for narcolepsy et al, the medicine is called nuvigil, which i’ve never taken because it was way too expensive, so my doctor put me on adderall instead. which, let me tell you, adderall was awful for me. i was operating at 200% and convincing myself it was my “true” 100% and basically my entire life had been a lie. but that wasn’t real at all.

i’m going to caveat here that my sleep doctor was absolute garbage, totally incompetent, and i nearly sued him, so i’m hoping you’ll have a better experience. you usually need a referral from your GP, so i’d start there. hopefully you’ll get a newer tech test so you don’t have to go through what i went through. apparently you can do most of it from home now. the sleep study will be totally worth it if you test positive for apnea, and even more worth it to find treatment for narcolepsy et al, and most worth it to take it to your HR people and ask for disability accommodations.

another thing to check for is carbon monoxide. i had a dude inspect my chimney at home and he said i’ve been slowly carbon monoxide poisoned for years now and i think that’s maybe part of my fatigue issue, because the *day* i moved to my grandma’s house, my sleep reverted to something sustainable. like i got tired at 10pm, fell asleep by 11, and woke up naturally at 8am. and it’s been like that now for a month (exception being EDS [excessive daytime sleepiness] due to aforementioned stress). chronic fatigue syndrome may also be a thing. so a good sleep doctor will take you through all of this and hopefully find you an effective treatment. oh! and idk how old you are, but if you’re under 25, there is a chance you will grow out of it, which sounds ridiculous, but developmentally your brain doesn’t get steady sleep-wise until then. THAT SAID, even if you are under 25, you’re unable to adapt to the environment you’re in, so you still need accommodations.

also keep in mind -- disordered sleep is extremely normalized, which is why the term “lazy” is tossed around so much. nearly all young people have disordered sleep because they’re forced into adult schedules. and most millennials have disordered sleep because of growing up with disordered sleep, and now because of a constant invasion of blue light late at night. i think i only know one person my age who doesn’t have disordered sleep, and she’s a middle school teacher. everyone else i know is delayed phasic, polyphasic, or chronically fatigued. it’s a serious, horrible issue that causes so much anxiety and depression, like you know how it feels to lay in bed at night, freaking out about the following day or all the stupid shit you said? that’s fatigue!brain. i’ve basically learned not to listen to any of my own thoughts between the hours of midnight and 8am. they’re all lies.

okay this is getting long. i do hope you find help and good treatment. i’ve heard good things about nuvigil if your insurance will cover it, and if not, i hope your workplace will allow you accommodations so you can nap in your car in the afternoon, have a flexible schedule/delayed start time, and/or work from home.

#narcolepsy #Anonymous

10 notes · View notes

tilecleaningtoday · 3 years ago

Text

Period Hallway Tiled Floor Restored to New in Central London

This property was in theLadbroke Grove area of West London near Kensington. The client had found an old and probably original black and white checkered pattern Victorian tiled floor under their cork tiled flooring. They also reported that it was badly damaged so I thought it would be best if I paid them a visit first to see how extensive the damage was and whether it was repairable. The floor was in a quite a state, the tiles were covered in glue from the cork and had several areas had been back filled with cement.

I reassured them that the damage could be rectified, and that it would be possible to completely restore the floor back to a good standard. I would have to remove the glue, remove the cement that had been used to level the floor and replace with reclaimed tiles to match. They were relieved to find out it could be done and happy with my quote I was instructed to go ahead with the work.

Removing Glue from a Victorian Tiled Hallway Floor

We started by taping up the skirting boards to protect the woodwork. With this done attention was turned to the glue which was softened using a strong dilution of Tile Doctor Remove and Go so it could be carefully scraped off. Multiple techniques and tools were needed to remove the glue including hand-held scrappers and a black pad fitted to a buffing machine. For the stubborn areas steam was applied to help lift the adhesive out the tile.

Once all the glue was removed the floor was rinsed and the alkaline cleaner neutralised with Tile Doctor Grout Clean Up which further cleaned the tiles and removed old traces of grout from the floor. Old floors like this generally don’t have a damp proof membrane underneath so the acids in the Grout Clean-up also counter any efflorescent salts trapped in the tile.

Once this was completed the slurry was removed with a wet vacuum and left to fully dry out overnight.

Repairing a Victorian Tiled Hallway Floor

The following day focus turned to repairing the areas of the floor where the tiles were missing or broken. The main issue being the cemented areas, we see this a lot with Victorian Hallways and generally what happens is a heating engineer digs out the floor to install pipework. Not being tilers, your average plumber then repairs the floor with a self-levelling cement that brings the level up to the surface of the tile so it can be covered with lino, carpet of in this case cork.

The sub floor was then rebuilt with rapid setting self-levelling compound but this time to below the level of the tile.

Once the new base was dry it was a just a question of re-tiling with the replacement tiles to match the original checkered pattern. The replacement reproduction tiles were sourced from Original Features in Crouch End North London. After grouting we left the floor to dry out over the weekend.

Sealing a Victorian Tiled Hallway Floor

When we returned to seal the floor our first step was to check the floor was dry using a moisture meter. This is critical as the sealant will not cure correctly if there is too much moisture in the floor. In this case the extra two days we had allowed had done its job and the test had confirmed it was ready to accept a sealer.

The client wanted the floor finish not to be too shiny once sealed so we opted to seal with two coats of Tile Doctor Seal and Go Extra. This is good choice for old Victorian floors such as this example as it’s special acrylic-based formula allows for moisture vapour transmission which as mentioned previously is a concern where no damp proof membrane has been installed.

I’m please to confirm my clients were delighted with the result, as you can see from the pictures the black and white floor restoration makes for a dramatic entrance well in keeping with the style of the property. For aftercare I recommended the use of Tile Doctor Neutral Tile Cleaner which will keep the tiles in good condition going forward without damaging the new sealer.

Source: Victorian Tile Cleaning and Restoration Service in Central London

#Black and White #Black and White Tiles #central london #Checkered Pattern #Floor Restoration #Glue Removal #Ladbroke Grove #Removing Cork #Tile Rebuild #tile restoration #Victorian Hallway

0 notes

gordonwilliamsweb · 4 years ago

Text

Enough to Wreck Their Rest: $10,322 for a Sleep Study

José Mendoza’s snoring was bad — but the silence when he stopped breathing was even worse for his wife, Nancy. The sudden quiet would wake her and she waited anxiously for him to take another breath. If too many seconds ticked by, she pushed him hard so that he moved and started breathing again. This happened several times a week.

This story also ran on NPR. It can be republished for free.

Diagnosed with severe sleep apnea 15 years ago, Mendoza was prescribed a continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP) device to help him breathe easier. But the machine was noisy and uncomfortable. After a month, he stopped using it.

Late in 2019, Mendoza, 61, went to an emergency department near the family’s Miami home with an excruciating headache. He thought it was related to his high blood pressure, a condition sometimes linked to obstructive sleep apnea. But after a battery of tests, clinicians concluded his obstructive sleep apnea itself was likely causing his headache and cardiac problems. He needed a new CPAP machine, they said.

But first, he had an at-home sleep test. Mendoza’s pulmonologist said it was not detailed enough and ordered a visit to an overnight sleep lab to get extensive data.

Mendoza arrived at the sleep center about 8 p.m. one night in early February and was shown into a spacious room with a sofa, a TV and a bed. After he got into his pajamas, a technician attached electrodes to his head and chest to track his brain, heart, lung and muscle activity while he slept. The technician fitted him with a CPAP with two small cannulas for his nose. Despite the unfamiliar setting and awkward equipment, Mendoza slept that night.

After the study, Mendoza started using the same, more comfortable CPAP model he’d used during the study.

“Now I’m not snoring. I feel more energetic. I’m not as tired as I was before,” he said.

The new CPAP was helping both Mendozas get a better night’s sleep — until the bill came.

The Patient: José Mendoza, 61, has a Humana HMO plan through the construction company where he works as a truck driver. It has a $5,000 deductible and an out-of-pocket maximum of $6,500 for covered care by in-network providers. Once his deductible is satisfied, he owes 50% in coinsurance for other billed charges. (Nancy Mendoza, who works as a social worker, and their two teenage children are covered under her employer plan.)

Medical Service: An overnight sleep study at a hospital sleep center to determine the type of mask and the proper levels of airflow and oxygen needed in Mendoza’s CPAP to treat his severe obstructive sleep apnea.

Total Bill: $10,322, including a $9,853 outpatient charge for the sleep study and a $469 charge for the sleep specialist who interpreted the results. Humana’s negotiated rate for the total was $5,419. Mendoza owed the bulk of that: $5,157, including $262 in coinsurance and $4,895 to satisfy his deductible. Humana paid $262.

Service Provider: University of Miami Health System’s sleep medicine facility at Bascom Palmer Eye Institute in Miami.

What Gives: Sleep studies are somewhat controversial and have been flagged in the past as being overused. Not everyone who snores needs this evaluation. But with Mendoza’s pauses in breathing and hypertension, he likely did.

According to Dr. Vikas Saini, president of the Lown Institute, a think tank that analyzes low-value health care, sleep studies fall into a gray zone.

“They are incredibly useful and necessary in certain clinical circumstances,” he said. “But it’s known to be one that can be overused.”

But how much should it cost to be monitored at home or in a hospital sleep lab? That’s the question. The Office of Inspector General at the federal Department of Health and Human Services has identified billing problems for the type of sleep study Mendoza had that led to Medicare overpayments.

The University of Miami Health System’s total charge was high by nearly every measure, but so was the allowed amount that Humana agreed to pay the health system for the study. And because Mendoza’s skimpy health plan has a deductible of $5,000, he’s on the hook for paying almost all of that hefty bill.

Mendoza’s Humana plan agreed to pay the hospital $5,419 for the sleep study he had. That’s nearly six times what Medicare would pay for the same service nationally — $920 — according to the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services.

Private insurers typically pay higher rates than Medicare for care, but that multiple is “much higher than what other insurers would pay,” said Jordan Weintraub, vice president of claims at WellRithms, a company that analyzes medical bills for self-funded companies and other clients.

Consider the total facility charge of $9,853. The average charge in the United States for a sleep study of the same type is just over half that amount at $5,384, according to Fair Health, a national independent nonprofit that tracks insurance charges.

Charges in the Miami area are on the high end of the national range. The average billed charges for similar hospital sleep studies in Miami range from $2,646 to $19,334, Weintraub said. So Mendoza’s bill is not as high as the highest in the area, and is just under the average in Miami.

“Billed charges are just completely fictitious,” said Weintraub. “There’s really no grounds for charging it other than that they can.”

More telling than what other Miami hospitals are charging for sleep studies is what the University of Miami Health System reports it actually costs the hospital to do the procedure. And that figure was just $1,154 on average in 2019, according to WellRithms’ analysis of publicly available cost report data filed with CMS. That year, the hospital’s average charge for the type of sleep study Mendoza had was $7,886, according to WellRithms.

Mendoza doesn’t pay premiums for his health plan, but his “free” coverage has a cost. The $5,000 deductible and high coinsurance leaves him woefully exposed financially if he needs medical care, as the family discovered. Nancy Mendoza’s plan has a lower deductible of $1,350, but her employer charges extra to cover spouses who have coverage available to them at their own jobs.

Obstructive sleep apnea is often undiagnosed, sleep medicine experts agree, and sleep studies can result in a diagnosis that leads to necessary treatment to help prevent serious problems like heart attacks and diabetes.

“From that perspective, sleep testing is actually underprescribed,” said Dr. Douglas Kirsch, medical director of sleep medicine at Atrium Health in Charlotte, North Carolina, who is past president of the American Academy of Sleep Medicine, a professional group.

After strong growth by independent and hospital-affiliated lab-based sleep centers over several years, there’s been a shift toward home-based sleep tests recently, said Charlie Whelan, vice president of consulting for health care at Frost & Sullivan, a research and consulting firm.

“The entire sleep medicine field is deeply worried about a future where more testing is done at home since it means less money to be made for in-center test providers,” Whelan said.

Resolution: When the bill arrived, Nancy Mendoza thought it must be a mistake. José’s home sleep test hadn’t cost them a penny, and no one had mentioned their financial responsibility for the overnight test in the lab.

She called the billing office and asked for an itemized bill. There were no complications, no anesthesia, not even a doctor present. Why was it so expensive? But what they received wasn’t any more enlightening than the summary bill.

She got a clear impression that if they didn’t pay they’d be sent to collections. To avoid ruining their credit, they agreed to a two-year payment plan and got their first installment bill, for $214.87, in April. Nancy thinks the overall charge is too high: “It’s not fair [for] people who are in the low end of the middle class.”

Lisa Worley, associate vice president for media relations at the University of Miami Health System, said in a statement that Mendoza “does not qualify for financial assistance because he has health insurance.”