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sparrow-flight · 6 days

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Here Now

[3715 words, 20 minutes]

1 January 2017 Winnipeg, Canada

The father walks the long way to the house that is not his own. He could’ve told the taxi to drop him at the door. Instead, he stops it at an intersection and it drives on without him.

In the 4am winter night, the father has no reason to fear anyone seeing him. The streets of this dingy neighbourhood are empty except for wet, brown snow that collects the deep footprints of strangers. The father has no reason to fear anyone robbing him. His pockets are light. They only hold an empty wallet, an expired driver’s licence, and a dead cell phone. And yet, the absence of life leaves room for imaginary danger. The father’s blue eyes stare down pockets of darkness, his tense legs ever ready to sprint.

He avoids the straight path that leads to his destination. Instead, he circles the housing block like a frantic bird, riding his own wings of instinct governed by survival, anxiety, and death. His metronome heart sets his quick pace, and when he makes the final turn that brings his destination into view, his heart drums to the swell of fear and excitement.

His eyes now squint in the dying light of sparse streetlamps, and he whispers to himself house numbers he passes in the language of a stranger. He stops at a small house. Its front has a door, a window with blinds, and a broken bulb with frozen cobwebs. Before the door is a wooden deck with stairs. Rusted nails barely hold the planks in place.

He walks up the stairs to the door and raises a fist to knock.

Fuck. No one’s going to be awake. God, I’m a fool. Got too excited—

Movement, through the crack beneath the door. It sparks the warm memory of the padded pit-pat of small, socked feet on hardwood floor. The father trembles. He doesn’t know if it’s from cold, excitement, or fear. He knocks before he decides.

The pit-pats are real now. He can hear them: larger, heavier, but undoubtedly theirs. The window blinds fold to form a peephole. The lock clicks, the door swings open, and the father stares down at an almost mirror image of himself. The same messy black hair, the same weary eyes: his eldest child, better than him in every way.

They speak in the language of family. “Papa?”

The eldest child throws themselves at their father, nearly knocking him off the stairs. He can’t help but laugh as he picks them off the snow, warmth bubbling out of him into his tight embrace. His child is taller and stronger now — an adult by all definitions. But to him, as they bury their face into their father’s chest, they’re still so small, so light, so easy to tear away from him like before.

—

It has been a year since the siblings have lived in this house together. The eldest, Hrodwyn, left Auntie Elmira’s care at the orphanage when they turned eighteen. They had saved up enough from their two jobs, and the two jobs continued to be enough for rent. Their two siblings followed them: their sixteen-year-old brother Merethel who always kept his long, black hair swept over his right eye, and their twelve-year-old sister Hygd who always kept a smile on her face. Auntie Elmira let them leave. She knew they were inseparable, and their father was relieved that they were.

It has been ten years since their father was wrongly sent to prison. On the red-blue night of his arrest at their doorstep, Hygd was two and wailing, Merethel was six and scared, and Hrodwyn was nine and bold. Hrodwyn heard the officers yell “Gavrill Vorobyev” over and over, watched them slam their pleading father against a car, and felt their siblings shatter in their arms. As the officers drove their father away, Hrodwyn knew it was now their responsibility to protect their family. They knew it was now their responsibility to fix all the broken pieces their father left behind, even if it meant pricking their own fingers.

In the mornings following their father Gavrill’s return, Hrodwyn made sure every piece of the siblings’ lives were meticulously organised like glass figurines on display. Nervously, they presented their father their handiwork within the cabinet of cutleries and Tupperwares, the closet of detergent and cleaning supplies, the fridge door of schedules and chores. All this order balanced on a rickety shelf Hrodwyn had built; all this order came crashing down in days to make room for Gavrill.

At first, Gavrill did not see this as a problem. He saw no problem at all — he was finally free, and his senses flared with life. He relished the touch of warm skin instead of thin paper, savoured the sound of rich voices instead of broken static. And with every chip and crack he felt between him and his children, an echo of his wife’s voice would comfort him:

—You’re here now, she would say, and that’s all that matters.

But it did not take long for reality to slip through the cracks of his ignorance. That was what he got for dancing around “How did you get out of prison?” — that was how he began stepping on his children’s broken pieces.

—

4 February 2017

“Pa, pa.”

Gavrill jolts awake on the couch. Foreign babble plays to colourful cartoon ponies running across the television screen.

“Ah, sorry pa,” Hrodwyn whispers in the language of family, Ingush — Gavrill ensured Auntie Elmira taught them when he was in prison. “Do you want lunch? I was going to heat up the stew you brought home last night.”

Gavrill rubs his eyes. Yesterday, his new job called him to an orientation in Rio de Janeiro. He bought the stew before he flew back. “Sounds good. We should finish that soon. It smelled great! I think you will all like it.”

Hrodwyn smiles politely. “I’m sure we will.”

Gavrill stands up. He sees Hygd at the foot of the couch, knees tucked to her chest as she watches the cartoon. He looks around for Merethel and doesn’t find him — he’s probably studying in Gavrill’s bedroom, the only other room with a table. Hrodwyn is already in front of the fridge: a Tetris map of new groceries, wilting vegetables, and takeout boxes. They move the stew containers from the fridge to the microwave, then drift from the kitchen to Gavrill’s bedroom. A minute later, they return with Merethel grumbling behind them.

The microwave beeps. Gavrill opens it, but Hrodwyn beats him in removing the containers, slipping past him with an “it’s okay”. They place the containers on the bar table that divides the kitchen and the living room. Merethel catches a sniff of it and speaks in English.

“Wow, this smells good,” he dips his pinky into the side to taste it. “And it’s not spoiled!”

“Of course not,” Gavrill responds in Ingush. He brings one container to Hygd and sits next to her. “I wouldn’t feed you spoiled food.”

Merethel raises an eyebrow.. He takes a spoon from the drawer and the container of stew.

“Hey,” Hrodwyn says in Ingush. They sit across Gavrill. “Don’t go back to papa’s room. Eat here.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re always there,” Hygd says, also in English.

Merethel curls his lip. “And?”

“Hey, no English,” Hrodwyn reminds their siblings, who comply.

Hygd tries drinking the stew straight from the container and burns her tongue. “Papa’s been asking you to eat together with us, like, every day. Don’t you hear him?”

“Well, I’m sorry, but are you studying for a scholarship?” Merethel sets his stew down with a huff and sits across her. “I thought so.”

“Hey, come on,” Gavrill says. “Be nice to your sister. Can you get a spoon for her, please?”

“She can get it herself.”

Hygd frowns. “But you’re closer! They’re on your side!”

“Come on,” Gavrill sighs.

Merethel grumbles. “Why do you want me to give her a spoon so bad—OW!”

Hygd had kicked him underneath the bar table. He retorts by trying to kick her back, but she tucks her legs out of reach. Merethel kicks her chair instead. It screeches against the floor. Hygd grins at her fuming brother. He growls and tries again.

“Hey-hey! Enough!” Gavrill yells then bites his tongue. Shit, too harsh? He lightens up. "Don’t be like that. Just pass her a spoon, please. And one for myself as well."

The two ignore him and continue scrabbling. With a sigh, Hrodwyn clears their throat and glares. Only then do their siblings stop. A second glare makes Merethel pass a spoon to his father and sister. A third isn’t needed to make Hygd smile sweetly and thank him.

Fragile silence falls on the table. Gavrill tries to tread across it carefully towards his children.

“Well, this is nice. Um,” he smiles and looks at Hrodwyn. “I’m glad you got off your shifts today. I think this is the first time we’ve had lunch together!”

“Yeah! It took, like, a month,” Hygd tilts her head to Gavrill. “And you still haven’t told us what your new job is!”

Merethel scoffs. “Or what kind of company can hire a man out of jail.”

“Hey, I—” Gavrill opens his hands. “Those questions can wait until later. Why don’t you guys tell me about school?”

“Ugh, it’s boring stuff compared to what you’re doing! I think,” Hygd mixes her stew. “Why don’t you wanna tell us?”

“Yeah, pa,” Merethel says. “Why don’t you? You’ve had your orientation. You should know enough about your job to tell us about it now, right?”

“How was Rio? Did you see any birds?” Hygd swings her feet.

“It was very nice,” Gavrill smiles at her and folds his arms. “Very hot. But uh, the food was good! And there were little birds on the street. Oh! I forgot I got the three of you keychains—”

A loud slam and screech interrupts the conversation. Merethel had pushed his chair back. He stands up. “I’m going to my room.”

Hrodwyn tugs his sleeve. “Hey—”

“Don’t touch me,” he spits in English and yanks his arm away. “If he doesn't even want to talk about something normal like a job, what the hell else can we talk about?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll talk about it!” Gavrill shocks himself with his tone. He offsets it with a smile. “It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. Come, sit, sit. You want to know what kind of company got me home, right?”

He gestures towards the empty chair. Merethel narrows his eyes and remains standing. The two other siblings also look at Gavrill in anticipation. His open mouth runs dry.

Helvetia Ltd. A private military contractor working for an R&D consultation firm funded by the G20. A company of hounds with global reach and infinite pay. A company that operates in the dark, hidden between the lines of conspiracy theories.

“A big company,” Gavrill finally decides. “Powerful, obviously, and they know I’m innocent, so they got me out. In exchange, I get a job right out of prison. And I get to be with all of you again!”

Merethel switches to Ingush, making sure his father understands him. “Very descriptive, pa.”

He storms off to the siblings’ shared bedroom. Hrodwyn reaches for him. Gavrill sighs and waves for them to stop. The bedroom door slams shut, and the two remaining siblings are left to contemplate their father’s response. They swallow it with lunch.

Soon, Hygd’s eyes creep to Merethel’s half-eaten stew, then to the hallway he vanished off to. She slides off her seat and picks up his stew with both hands.

“He still needs to eat.”

Her small feet shuffle down the hallway. Once she disappears around the corner, Gavrill deflates, burying his head in his hands. Hrodwyn stirs their stew.

“Are you not going to tell them anything?

Gavrill sighs as he picks himself back up. “I’m not going to tell any of you anything you don’t need to know.”

Hrodwyn leans towards him. “Pa, you can tell me. I’m an adult now. I can take it.”

He looks at his child, the bags beneath their eyes, and shakes his head. “It’s fine, really. It’s a good job with good pay. Contract-based, so I’ll be home most days. Don’t worry about it.”

Hrodwyn’s voice is quiet, fraught. “Then at least tell me you know who framed you. Were they caught?”

“No. And I don’t know who or where they are.”

“What? Then how does the company know you’re innocent? Did they reopen the case?”

“I don’t know.”

Gavrill continues eating his stew with downcast eyes. Hrodwyn stares at him. “Why aren’t you worried? That guy is still out there. What if you get framed again?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“It’s fine. Trust me.”

“Did the company tell you something?”

Gavrill closes his eyes and sighs. “Look. When I got arrested, the court said that they were going to lock me up until they found the real culprit. Ten years passed. No one figured it out. They’ve all moved on from that and I’ve moved on from that, too. I’m just glad I got out in the first place. That’s all.”

Hrodwyn is quiet for some time. “Will you tell me why you got hired? Is it because of something you did in Ingushetia?”

Gavrill stops eating. “What makes you think that?”

“I remember how you fought against Russians. I remember how mama died. It’s why we moved here, isn’t it? And now you have this strange job you don’t want to tell us about—”

A rap on the door interrupts them. Gavrill, relieved, quickly leaves the table. He peeks through the blinds, frowns, and cracks the door open. Wind cuts into his face. He looks down. A large package sits atop fresh snow. Its only identification is a tag taped onto it: “HROTHGAR”. The name his wife once gave him. The name he now gave Helvetia. Footprints trail away from the package to the road where it meets fresh tire tracks. No vehicle is in sight.

He scowls. He grabs the package, dusts snow off, slams the door shut, and locks it. Before Hrodwyn can see it, he rips off the tag and shreds it, pocketing the strips.

“Do you need help with it?” Hrodwyn tilts their head. “It looks big.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s from work. Do you have a cutter?”

Hrodwyn hands him a pair of scissors. He carries the package and the scissors into his bedroom and closes the door. Large luggages and old boxes are spread across the floor. Their contents, the salvaged pieces of a happier life once lived, have yet to be organised into wardrobes, sorted into shelves, or fitted into photo frames. Gavrill has no time or energy to. They’re not his children’s — they aren’t as important.

Gavrill pushes the luggages and boxes aside with his foot. He drops the package in the space he made. He sits on the floor, raises his hand, and plunges the scissors into cardboard.

—

The package contains Gavrill’s uniform: a three-piece navy suit with a golden tie and a pair of black oxfords, and a durable coat designed for urban environments. The suit feels too expensive to bend his arms in. He tries wearing it without creasing the fabric. It takes a long time — long enough for his two children to knock on his door: Hrodwyn who stared in confusion, and Hygd who brimmed in awe.

By then, Gavrill still had not worn the entire uniform — he had forgotten how to tie a tie. He could count the number of times he has done it in his life on his hands, with all but one count being for court hearings. So Hygd gets to work. She pulls her father out into the living room and opens a YouTube tutorial. Time passes. Hrodwyn’s and Hygd’s fussing grows louder without them coming any closer to their goal. Their commotion annoys Merethel enough for him to bring out his own tie for a snarky demonstration. Soon, all three siblings end up circling their father for final touches: fitting the golden tie, tightening the vest, and smoothening the suit as Gavrill stands stiff like a Christmas tree.

When they’ve finished, Hygd steps back to look at her father like a panel judge. She watches Hrodwyn attach the final piece: Helvetia’ lapel pin bearing a cross in a shield. Hrodwyn steps back to join their sister. Gavrill remains frozen in place.

“I feel so embarrassed.”

“Why?” Hygd grins. “You look cool!”

“Do I?” he looks at his other two children with an uncertain but small smile. My daughter called me cool.

"You look… expensive. Very expensive," Hrodwyn gazes at the suit's double vents, the trousers cut to the curve of Gavrill’s legs, and the hand-stitched buttons. "How much did this cost, pa?"

"More than the suit I rented for my own wedding, that's for sure,” he grumbles. In a clearer tone, "I don't know. The company covered it. But what looks wrong?"

"You don't look comfortable in it. It shows.”

"When was the last time you combed your hair?” Merethel adds. “Or got a haircut?"

Gavrill grimaces. "I didn’t need to touch a comb or cut my hair back there. I only trimmed it now and then. Is it that bad?”

Merethel is quick. “Yes.”

Hygd punches his arm.

“It’s not that bad,” Hrodwyn taps their chin, “but if you did something to your hair, you can look more professional.”

"Oh! Wait, pa, sit, sit," Hygd drags her father to the couch and forces him to sit. She crawls behind him, kneels, and gently combs through his lightly greying hair with her fingers. A spare yellow hair tie comes off her wrist. She bunches his hair together. "Too tight?"

He shakes his head. "What are you doing?"

"Tying a bun," she does so expertly with a quick twist, then jumps off the couch to look at him. She grins at the team effort. “Pa! You look like a thousand bucks! Here, here.”

She grabs her father’s hand, which squeezes hers in return, and leads him into the siblings’ bedroom. Hrodwyn and Merethel follow behind. She turns on the lights and pulls him in front of the chipped mirror mounted on the wardrobe door. “What do you think, pa?”

Gavrill stares at his reflection. His smile dissolves. He doesn’t recognise himself. He only recognises Agent Hrothgar, Helvetia’s newly hired murderer, wrapped in a gallant lie of navy blue as he stands in the bedroom of children.

Hygd smiles brightly. “So..?”

Hrodwyn notices his stare. “What’s wrong, pa?”

If he doesn’t recognise himself, will his children recognise him? After a job that hails bullets and shrapnels at his body and his mind, after he returns too splintered to shield them from the truth, will they recognise him as their father? He can try to convince them. He can try to be the best father he can be to erase the decade when he wasn’t. He can try to pretend that he’ll never leave them again, that he’ll always be there for them, that he’ll cut himself wrapping his splinters to hold them tight and never let them shatter into pieces again—

—Our children are smart. You can only do so much to protect them, Gav. How would you rather them find out? Her smile would sadden. With a voice full of conviction, she would say: —Don’t you have enough regrets?

Gavrill looks away from his reflection. His eyes drift to his children.

“You need to know about my job. Can we talk?”

Gavrill sits on Merethel’s bed, next to Hrodwyn’s and Hygd’s bunk bed. He pats his side. The siblings, surprised by his directness, move to sit next to him.

He twiddles his thumbs. "This job I have, it's... dangerous. The company is even more dangerous. They have a lot of power, a lot of money,” he tugs at his three-piece suit. “They were able to pay my bail and hire me out of, well, you know, in exchange for my… skills. And I��” he hesitates, “I can’t leave unless…"

“You die,” Hrodwyn states.

Gavrill pauses, then nods. Their delivery stings.

The room falls silent. Hygd curls into a ball. Merethel tries masking his nerves.

"Ah, well, it's like, uh, working for the military then, right? There's always a high chance of death, and it's a risk some people with families take."

Gavrill’s voice is soft, defeated. "I'm sorry."

“It’s fine. It’s… whatever,” Merethel looks away. “It’s not like you’ve never been gone before.”

Gavrill winces and opens his mouth. Hrodwyn interrupts him. “Don’t apologise. You had no choice and you did what you had to do. They were never going to reopen your case. There will never be another option for you besides this one.”

Gavrill hates how he sees himself in his child’s placid eyes.

"What should we know about the job?” Hrodwyn continues. “What do we have to do?"

"I'll be here until the company calls me. Whatever they tell me to do, no matter how dangerous, I must follow. The company also has enemies. Keep the blinds closed, don’t let strangers in, never enter the house when someone’s watching, and always tell each other where you are, hmm?" he raises his phone. "If something’s wrong, call me or Auntie. Don't let anyone in the house. You still have Auntie’s phone number, yes?"

The children nod.

“Good. And lastly,” he voice softens and he wraps his arms around his children, "don't worry about me. I will always do my best to come home to you. I may get hurt, but I will always come home. Okay? My fight is to go back home to you, no matter what."

He pulls them in closer. The cracks between them remain but in this moment, the family is whole.

"I am here now. And I swear by my last dying breath, I will never, ever, let anything take us apart again."

Hygd picks her head up from her tucked knees. “Promise?”

Gavrill hooks his pinky with all his children’s and smiles. He cuts himself with his words and hopes it never heals.

“I promise.”

---

About the Flight

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findmeinthefallair · 3 months

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Imagine leaving the country + culture you've tried to integrate into (as someone queer and neurodivergent) for three decades, for a short vacation. And feeling the last few paper-thin roots you tried to plant in said culture, crumble to dust during the vacation.

When you come back from the vacation, your fears are confirmed. You don't feel part of the culture anymore. Whatever ties you had with it have slipped away for good.

You peer through a thick transluscent glass wall, watching how people around you have planted roots and been on their way in their relationships and study/work in their own cultures. Pushing as hard as you can against said glass wall, to attempt connecting with the world and people, is hardly paying off. Most people here don't even think about the queer community or neurodiversity as things that exist. Including the hiring managers for regular-paying jobs who rejected you after the interviews you've been to.

And the person you live with is doing just fine in said culture, having gaming calls multiple times a week with two different gaming friend groups. The sound of them having fun makes the loneliness so much worse, so much more unbearable.

Any friends you have here locally aren't the type to want to meet regularly at all, or have long phone calls with. They engrossed in their jobs or relationships. People at the meetup groups you've tried attending aren't that sort either. You're so tired from trying so so many times. Those days have been lost, since you took the risk to leave church in 2020. You deeply regret dedicating so much time to church, and somehow not being bold enough to get out there in your 20s.

You start to write a suicide note, but the only things you've put in there so far are just the passwords for your laptop, phone and important apps/accounts. You take it as far as that for now, in case. It brings you a bit of peace that nothing else has so far.

You start peering outside at the balcony of your 23rd storey apartment, a few times per day, thinking how this could all go away if you're brave enough for half a minute if you put your mind to jumping. Worst are the distressing images you start having in your mind of carrying out the suicide plans that have formed. You have earned extremely little income, so little that a bank employee the other week had to do a double take and ask you to confirm a second time, when viewing your last annual income total. You have failed to launch your career twice, are not attractive to anyone here, and aren't the first person anyone would love to intimately text to share about what happened during their day. You've had to delete Google Maps from your phone as a safety measure because you've started looking up places where people such as hikers have died, tempted to make one last drive to such locations.

When you've called crisis helplines, the good ones are so occupied that your call is rejected, and with the remaining ones, the volunteer keeps asking you to repeat yourself because the language barrier is evident enough.

You, as a trained therapist yourself, start to be therapy-resistant (because all you need, really, is regular enough companionship in person or over a voice call) and it terrifies and confuses you. But you're a trained therapist who succumbed to neurodivergent burnout and immense minority stress in a culture that doesn't safeguard or vouch for the queer and the neurodivergent. Your licence to practice as a therapist expires, and you don't renew it.

Staying in existence saps away at the energy of every insanity-ridden fiber of your body: in order to be brave. The system and norms and your brain all scream out how much of a failure you are. You spend most of each day napping or sleeping.

You feel so much frustration because your family has actually lived in Western cultures, but moved back here because of financial instability combined with pressure from extended family. You have arrived at this nowhere place because they raised you with a blend of West and East that has led to you being neither-here-nor-there in terms of cultural identity.

Someone offers to fund you to do an MBA course in Australia, the chance to begin a new life in early 2025. The money left from the critical illness fund from last year's cancer hospitalization and surgeries..isn't enough for both the MBA's tuition fees AND accommodation while there. But you'd rather die than take someone else's money to start anew. You're ashamed of yourself. It might be your brain lying to you, but you're terrified to start over like that because maybe you'll feel EVEN more behind that you already do. Your hopes of getting away from family and the old life in order to be self-sustaining...has absolutely not worked out by age 31, it's a massive dream that has fallen through terribly.

How you'd love to just leave everything behind because at least I can have control over that. Instead of not knowing how each passing and excruciating coming decade is gonna pan out. You know how much of a killer loneliness is.

That's been me since mid-ish June. I don't know how the same person who holds enough apparent light to create cool stuff in fandom, also holds a darkness so tremendous that it keeps threatening to kill me.

But...I'd like to keep trying. Even it's as if someone has taken an axe to my skull and soul and split them in half.

Idk if the worst of it is over, I've slept for around 12 hours in the past three days. Idk if that was my brain and body caving in to process an immeasurable mountain of grief.

But I'd like to keep trying since a friend gifted me a game on Steam, others have sent me asks to remind me what I innately have (even if a hiring manager or potential date doesn't see that in me), I called another friend who started to cry on call coz she's worried I might die, and also..there's still a summer in the UK and fall in the US to experience..and I still think of the stuff I technically *could* make for the fandom..I know I have people rooting for me, idk, maybe it can be enough to shoulder this horrendous burden of existing as me.

#ueghhh this is heavy. but I've become resistant to therapy

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yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit · 4 months

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I'd like to illustrate a problem here for a second about documentation and having ID expire every 5 years or whenever you move, while disabled in Canada, or at least Ontario.

To renew ID you need 3 pieces of documentation, one for proof of citizenship/status/immigration etc, like your birth certificate or registration etc, one for proof of residence like personally addressed mail, a bank statement or bill...

And the third, which must be separate, which is "proof of identity" for which the following is accepted:

credit card

valid Ontario driver’s licence or temporary driver’s licence

valid Ontario Photo Card

Canadian Immigration Identification Card

Certificate of Canadian Citizenship (plastic card)

Certificate of Indian Status (paper or plastic card)

Confirmation of Permanent Residence (Imm 5292)

only if signature is shown

current employee ID card

current professional association licence

Old Age Security Card

Ontario motor vehicle permit (plate portion only)

passport (Canadian or foreign)

Permanent Resident Card

only if signature is shown

Record of Landing (Imm 1000)

student ID card

union card

I have crossed out the ones I can't get as a disabled single adult with no dependents who was born here, is not elderly, cannot drive etc... Your average single young disabled adult born and raised here.

The certificate of citizenship I could [have, previously] technically get, but as a natural born citizen other sources will insist my birth certificate should be enough and I should never need this... And they STOPPED ISSUING THE PLASTIC CARDS LISTED HERE AS VALID ID!

I can't get a credit card approved because of my income.

The passport I only ever got because when I was younger I could travel, and it wouldn't get money taken off my pension etc... But most people in my position won't have or maintain this, and indeed mine is still with someone I took a trip with in my 20's and is lost to me, and I have had no real reason to renew it or report it lost. I can't renew it without getting the info off the old one and I can't apply for a new one without already having valid id AND BEING ABLE TO FIND 2 PEOPLE TO VOUCH FOR ME... Which I don't have, frankly, and I am going to go out on a limb and say that when you are more or less house bound and an inconvenient disabled who people are prone to abusing it is quite common enough to not be able to find 2 people to vouch for you. You also need a guarantor and someone to take photos! And sign them! And why would you? Why would you maintain a passport when you can't even travel??? It isn't accessible to me anyway.

So most people in my position, which is a lot, will ONLY have the photo ID card as "proof of id" which you NEED to 1. renew your health card, 2. renew the photo card itself.

My problem with this is that technically you need a photo ID card that's still valid, to make your photo id card valid again. They technically are not allowed to use your health card as this kind of ID.

I am disabled and therefor often things are LONG expired by the time I have the ability to get them renewed, so in addition to all this, my health card and photo id expire at the same time every time now.

They wanted to have a photo id alternative to the driver's license to help with issues like this to begin with, but they haven't made it much better.

The next issue is it's the only government Id that's of any use to me and that I am encouraged to get but it costs 35$ because it's treated as optional, instead of it being free like your health card is... So actually your health card does cost 35$ to maintain... Because you need your photo id card to stay valid... So actually our "free" healthcare has an out of pocket cost of 7$ per year minimum. That's not a lot, but that's not free if that 35 every 5 years stops you from being able to have health coverage.

I want a form of government ID, that counts as proof of identity, for the purpose of renewing my very important health insurance card, that doesn't bloody expire all the fucking time.

Because you're actually supposed to renew your health card every time your address changes... And when you are poor and disabled you tend to either be stuck with your parents, or stuck moving constantly to escape abuse.

And just... Do you know, how many times, for how many months I have been effectively between health coverage, in a country with free healthcare, and thus unable to seek medical attention, because my id has expired and I did not have the physical energy to go get it renewed? And that shouldn't happen!

Technically, by their own laws/policy they should have turned me away to renew my id, which would have left me 100% fucked with no existing valid ID to use to get other ID. That shouldn't be able to happen to you every 5 years or every time you move, especially when you are disabled.

And they shouldn't charge 35$ for it, considering you need it to get your health card renewed at all, technically speaking. It should be FREE! Especially if you are disabled!

If I still physically had my last passport I might be able to keep renewing it without this bullshit headache, but I can't without my old one.

They should have never switched to health cards that expire, I don't care if they wanted photo id, it was fine before, this is bullshit. This makes healthcare potentially inaccessible to the disabled because they have put it behind these stupid hoops you have to jump every 5 years and when you move.

And do you know how many disabled people have memory and mobility issues???

This is stupid.

And the kick in the teeth is that once they have my photo taken they will randomly chose to use older photos they have on file, because clearly my appearance hasn't changed enough through my adult life for them to even care how old the photo is! Why does the photo id have to expire if the photo can be over 10 years old according to their own records!? Their whole excuse for them expiring is that your appearance and address need to be up to date!

For those of you who don't know because it might have been before your time... health cards used to be white with a red stripe and no photo or address and they never expired. You only needed a new one if it was lost or stolen and that was fine. You could memorize the number on it and not even carry your card like you do with your SIN.

And then they switched us to the new photo ones to make sure everyone would have photo ID

And then they decided health cards couldn't be photo id because they didn't want to manage who got health care and who could buy alcohol with the same system for whatever reasons, so they came out with the "photo id" that you are expected to have as an alternative to a drivers license if you don't drive...

But they wanted money, so they charge 35$ every five years and make you pray to their monument of bureaucracy to get it.

Anyway fuck this my ability to make medical appointments shouldn't expire in a country with free healthcare. If they had a problem with people using each other's health cards before and messing up records, they should have made it easier to get your own health card, and not harder. And yes they should have made it so anyone even an illegal immigrant or someone who lost all their ID in a fire could walk into a clinic and still get basic care.

Not this bullshit song and dance.

So gee, if I fail to renew online just before these card expire you will hear me rant about this bullshit again in 5 years.

They could at LEAST give you a disability id card that never expires that you can use for shit like accessing the food bank or for proof of identity etc... Maybe even then it would be easy to have discount programs for anyone on a disability pension, maybe any groceries that are deemed basic necessities enough could be partially or fully subsidized without extra applications and headaches?

But no it's like they want to make healthcare inaccessible for the people who need it the most.

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casputin · 3 months

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14 hours left - make sure you take ID!

You’ll need one of the following types of photo ID to vote:

a UK or Northern Ireland photocard driving licence (full or provisional)

a driving licence issued by an EU country, Norway, Iceland, Liechtenstein, the Isle of Man or any of the Channel Islands

a UK passport

a passport issued by an EU country, Norway, Iceland, Liechtenstein or a Commonwealth country

a PASS card (National Proof of Age Standards Scheme)

a Blue Badgea biometric residence permit (BRP)

a Defence Identity Card (MOD form 90)

a national identity card issued by the EU, Norway, Iceland or Liechtenstein

a Northern Ireland Electoral Identity Carda Voter Authority Certificate

an Anonymous Elector’s Document

You can also use one of the following travel passes as photo ID when you vote:

an older person’s bus pass

a disabled person’s bus pass

an Oyster 60+ card

a Freedom Pass

a Scottish National Entitlement Card (NEC)

a 60 and Over Welsh Concessionary Travel Card

a Disabled Person’s Welsh Concessionary Travel Card

a Northern Ireland concessionary travel pass

The photo on your ID must look like you. You can still use your ID even if it has expired.

#uk politics #general election

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savage-flirtation · 6 months

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103-year-old Italian woman fined for driving with expired licence | Italy | The Guardian

Molinari was fined and taken home by police.

“I will buy myself a Vespa,”

Molinari told local newspaper La Nuova Ferrara.

I wanna be her when I grow up 💖💖💖💖💖

#female icons #feminism #role model #don't grow up #awesome

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deathssunshine · 1 year

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*Jumin Han and Victor Li cross over Head Cannon*

🤍A cross over of Jumin (mystic messenger) and Victor (Mr love queen's choice)🤍

~Description: I never really saw any fan fics out there of victor and jumin crossing over. I think they would be good friends in all honesty.~

Warning: bad language, two idiots being two idiots, jumin driving 😟 and victor almost dying several times. I tried to be serious for four dot points but ended up failing on the fifth, my shit taste in humor I'm sorry if the jokes are that bad 😭, SOME INFORMATION IS PROBABLY WRONG LMAO

Genre: man I love guys tits, I'm just bored

Word count:

Game: mystic messenger, Mr love queen choice

Pairings: no pairing just them being best friends

Character: Jumin Han and Victor Li

*Victor Li and Jumin Han cross over*

When they first meet it's for business reasons. Let's just say their fathers used to be good friends in university and haven't seen each other since then. They met at LFG for the first time and instantly knew they would get along. They shook hands and introduced themselves "I'm victor Li" "nice to meet you I'm Jumin Han".

From there they would go out to souvenir to get to know each other on the request of their fathers.

Earlier that day victor had made croissants that were still in the oven by the time he got back. He pulled them out of the oven and smiled at how good they looked. He then cut the croissants in half and put the best ham and cheese around and put it between the croissants. He brought the plates out to jumin and asked Mr mills to bring the coffee he had made.

They talked for a bit and jumin really admired victors cooking.

Jumin then went into a 30 minute rant about his cat Elizabeth the third.

"She sheds 3 to 28 strands of fur a minute" Jumin says proudly as he was showing victor shakey images of Elly. "... Why would you even count that? And why are you talking about her as if she is your daughter?" Victor would respond looking at the man as if he were insane. "Well first off, because she's my daughter and second of all, because she's my daught-... That reminds me of a conversation I had awhile ago about making scarves out of cat hair" "fucking what" "I should start looking into that again" "please shut up"

Jumin would then offer to drive (😟) victor somewhere, claiming he saw a nice place in the way to LFG. He would use the car driver Kim was using which was a loan and is great for city roads. At first it wasn't so bad, just a little rusty but not too bad for victor to worry over it. But then he takes a detour and drives off road onto a nature path somehow not crashing the car as he turns on the radio for it to be on a highosh volume where they have to raise their voice for each other to hear. Victor clings on for dear life starting to worry "How did you get your licence!" Victor yells as he thinks of any possible ways to get out. "Oh! It expired actually! Around I don't know.. 2 or 5 years ago?!" "WHAT" Jumin smiles as he turns the radio up even higher. The song playing is free bird specifically the "free bird yeah*guitar solo*" part which is at the very end of the song.

As the guitar solo plays jumin ends up driving off the cliff and they both end up in hospital 🤍

After recovering the two hang out again at the penthouse jumin is staying at. "I don't know anymore victor.. it just feels loose?" Jumin says standing in front of Victor, in only a bathrobe. "Why would your dick feel loose? It's not like it's screwed in. Are you missing a nut or something?" Victor says with a cocky grin. "Maybe.." he says. A nut and screw falls onto the floor then metal dick falls and all they can hear is the metal pipe sound. A rocket then shoots out of the tip and into victor sending him back to the hospital.

They become best friends and victor has this bathroom where they can shit AND arm wrestle at the same time!

How sweet is that!

Their cats would definitely be good friends too. Maybe they might fall in love.

"are you gay?" "Fuck you victor."

Lol thanks for reading -etchartfan

#Spotify #mlqc #mlqc victor #mr love queen choice #mr love queen choice victor #mr love victor #anime #mystic messeger headcanon #mystic messager #jumin fanfic #juminmysticmessenger #mysme #mysme jumin #does jumin han is gay #metal pipe #free bird yeah *guitar solo*

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sweetbuckybarnes · 9 months

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Leia's Wedding

Summary: Jay never knew how much Leia truly means to him before she nearly walked down the aisle and married somebody else.

Pairings: Leia Forman + Jay Kelso

Main Masterlist | Jay + Leia Masterlist

Jay met Leia Forman when he was 15, but he didn't know how much of an impact Rec and Kitty Forman's granddaughter was going to have on his life.

When Leia came back for her summer visit in 1997, they ended up sleeping together. It didn't take long to get around the group.

And Leia never heard the end of it from Gwen.

But, she dropped the bombshell of the decade on the gang when she arrived in Point Place, Wisconsin in 2002. She still drove her father's old Vista Cruiser, but a man was sitting in the passenger seat.

Saying that she was going to be getting married at the end of the summer.

And Jay didn't like her fiancé.

Not one bit.

He was an arrogant asshole who looked down his nose at anyone in town, her friends, him, her parents but especially her grandparents.

Mainly Kitty.

He doesn't know what he has against Leia's sweet grandmother, who went back to work years after she retired and watched over the gang throughout their high school years.

Jay decided it was his last chance to win Leia back. But, he found her sobbing in the bridal holding the cufflinks that were special in her family (he remembers her saying they were 'blessed' by... someone... she didn't know the whole story).

"Leia?" Gently shutting the door behind him so he doesn't startle her, he walks along the plush carpet wearing the new dress shoes he bought for this occasion. "What's the matter? You're getting married in 10 minutes!" He tried to sound enthusiastic, but he knew his heart wasn't in it.

"He had this whole plan, he was going to move us to Australia! I'd never see my family again. Or you... guys."

Jay wanted to rip the asshole's head off. It was obvious that Leia loved her family. Kitty obsessed over the arrival of summer and Leia's time in Point Place. He may not show it that often, but Red loved spending time with his granddaughter. He's the one who went down to the dreaded DMV after her 15th birthday (even after getting pulled over by the police for expired licence plates) and got her learner's permit and started teaching her how to drive. Despite being 'half dumbass', she passed the first time.

"Oh, Leia. I'm so sorry," no matter how much he hated Leia's now ex-fiancé, he knew she loved him. And the fact he was willing (almost happy) to tear her away from her family and friends, seemed to have pulled the veil away from her eyes.

There was thudding coming from the corridor, followed by repeated knocks.

"Leia! Please, just listen to me! I know we can work our way through this!" The asshole was trying to make Leia see his 'sense'.

Not on Jay's watch!

He got up from where he was and sat on the floor with Leia, ignoring her please for a moment and threw open the door. Leia's ex came face to sternum with Jay (who had a shocking growth spurt and stood well over a head above Leia).

"There's no way in hell, Leia would ever go back to you. Not if it's the last thing I do."

"Jay, just let me speak to him," Leia had come up behind him. When she stood next to Little Kelso, she came just above his heart.

Jay let out a deep breath, as Leia came around him, staring up at her ex-fiancé with a look Jay didn't recognise - but the sly smirk on his face made him bristle. He thought Leia was going to take the asshole back until-

Thwack!

Leia punched her ex square in the face. "I never want to see you again."

Through Gwen, it was determined Leia would get the non-refundable honeymoon to the Maldives.

Gwen also suggested that Leia take Jay with her.

Unsurprisingly to either the gang or Leia's family, Jay and Leia had gotten back together.

And this time, it would stick.

#jay and leia #leia x jay #leia and jay #jay kelso #leia foreman #kitty forman #takes place post series

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artemis-pendragon · 2 years

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Got pulled over on my way to Halloween brunch with my sister in my full Poe Dameron cosplay and it was because my tabs were expired last month and they hadn't taken my licence plate out of their system yet BUT. it would've been so much funnier if it was for like. reckless driving or something. Method acting 💀

#im a very safe driver tho dont worry guys 😜#halloween #star wars #poe dameron #sw sequels #star wars cosplay

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mar64ds · 2 years

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i love those posts of sam and max raising the warners!

How amazingly disastrous do you think it'll be when Sam and Max teach Yakko to drive? XD

sam&max themselves just kind of wing it when it comes to driving, sam's drivers licence expired years ago and i don't think max ever had any. So with that in mind I'm sure yakko would have a lot of fun but the rest of the city not so much

#samandmax

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timoswerner · 1 year

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so i’d be going around with an expired driving licence photocard because i though it ran out next year and yesterday i discovered my passport runs in less than 2 weeks i really do not have my life together

#stacey speaks

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beardedmrbean · 1 year

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Helsingin Sanomat carries an editorial on the ongoing government formation talks at the House of the Estates, and their likely impact on trade unions.

HS says that the four right-wing parties engaged in coalition talks have some big disagreements, primarily on immigration and climate change, but there is a consensus on labour market reforms.

Finland's generous income-linked unemployment benefits face a shakeup, according to HS, with payments set to be tapered. That means they will be higher at the start of a stretch of unemployment, but reduce over time as the two-year-eligibility period expires.

The National Coalition Party also wants to eliminate the tax deduction for trade union membership fees, effectively making membership of trade unions more expensive.

HS suggests that the intention is to push union members to join YTK, a fund that offers eligibility for unemployment benefits but does not negotiate pay rises for members or offer many of the other services that come with union membership.

That would weaken the trade unions' voice in society, says HS, likely prompting protests and a vote for the left in the next parliamentary elections — thereby increasing polarisation and features of a two-party system in Finland.

That said, HS warns that a new government is still some way off, and even if it is formed it might not last the distance due to dissent among the ranks of government parties.

Foreign students seeking work

Kauppalehti reports on a hot topic: foreign graduates looking for work. The paper focuses on those from India, interviewing two students hoping to stay in Finland after they finish their degrees.

India has a surplus of workers, says KL, meaning the government there is very happy for young people — even highly educated people — to seek higher incomes and a better life abroad.

The Indians interviewed for the story say they love Finland. India's pollution, corruption and "difficult atmosphere" weigh heavily on their minds, and they love the Finns' peaceful nature and the quality of life obtainable in Finland.

Back in India, one is a university teacher and the other manages a factory. But they are not so optimistic that they expect to find work in their fields in Finland.

One studying business administration says she'll do any work anywhere in the Nordic country, while the factory manager says he is considering driving a truck because he has the licence and it does not require Finnish language skills.

The stats are against them. Finland ranks fourth in the European Union for graduate employment, among graduates from outside the European Economic Area. But that still means only 13 percent of graduates from outside Europe get a job.

KL says that the job search is different in Finland.

"In India jobs are found through networks, but in Finland jobs are generally filled via application processes and according to [candidates'] merits," said KL.

That may come as a surprise to researchers who found recruiters discriminated extensively against those with foreign names.

Speeding fine

Ilta-Sanomat has a classic Finnish story: the quirky news report picked up internationally and then reported through the prism of the foreign news desk interpretations.

Anders Wiklöf, a shipping magnate from Åland, has received a humongous fine for speeding. He was clocked at 82 km/h in a 50 km/h zone, and was fined 121,000 euros.

That's because Finland has a system of income-linked fines for some offences, and Wiklöf's income is pretty high.

The penalty sounds pretty tough to foreign ears, however, and IS notes that the story was covered by The Guardian, the Daily Mail, ABC News and even AS, in Spanish.

The tabloid neglects to credit the original source, however. That appears to be the Aland outlet Nya Åland, which reported the fine two days ago.

Wiklöf had told the paper that he regretted the fine, and had just not slowed down enough when the speed limit changed. He did have a request for those handling his contribution to public coffers, though, suggesting that he has followed government formation talks closer than some.

"I have heard that they are planning to cut 1.5 billion euros from healthcare spending in Finland, so I hope my contribution can fill a gap there," Wiklöf told Nya Åland. "Ideally I'd like it to be earmarked for that purpose."

#nunyas news #updates from up north

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