its so fucking cruel that i have to both fight like hell just to stay alive every day and also do assignments. ngl i should just be able to sit at home and fight through episodes without having to also do homework on top of that

Incorrect bat family quotes but as things me and my sibling have done/said.

Jason: *just trying to read* *feels an eery presence just watching him.*

Damien and Tim: *both just starting at him*

Jason: Yes? Can I help you?

Tim: Slushies

Jason: okay?

Damien: Take us to them.

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dick: *Chilling in his bed*

Cass: *very slowly opening the door to his room*

Both: *just stare at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time*

Dick: Please, child. What is it? I can't handle this suspense.

Cass: *quietly* I have a pool party today…

Dick: okay? I'm glad for you.

Cass: …

Cass: Can you go buy me tampons?

Dick:

Dick: Of fucking course I can go buy you tampons! *already jumping out of bed* What size?

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

Damien: *angry, slamming doors, punching walls, screaming at everyone*

Tim: Autism is one hell of a bitch

Dick: Tim, no

Jason: No, no, he's got a point. We really should get him checked out.

Damien: I CAN HEAR YOU

*he was diagnosed with autism the following month*

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

Stephaine: *putting makeup on Cass* almost done!

Tim: we need to hurry, the movie is starting soon

Stephanie: It's fine, we have plenty of time, now let me do your makeup.

Dick: What are y'all doing? Why is everything… pink?

Cass: We are going to watch Barbie

Dick: Can I come?

Steph: Nah it's girls night?

Dick: Then why is Tim going?

Steph: He's one of the girls, obviously.

Tim: Yeah, obviously.

Dick: *crying* I wanna be one of the girls too

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

Bruce: Hey, Tim

Tim: Yeah? What's up?

Bruce: Remember how you're therapist mention she thought you might have ASD?

Tim: Yeah, she said she wasn't %100 percent sure on it though.

Bruce: Well she just sent me a document confirming your diagnosis.

Tim:

Dick: Woah dude! Congrats on the tism!

Jason: Welcome to the spectrum little bro!

Damien: Is Dick the only one that isn't ASD?

Dick: *is sad bc he's left out of the club again*

- ✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dick, Tim, Jason and Damien: *driving down the road at 4 in the morning, blasting fnaf songs at full volume* IVE GOT NO TIME!! I've GOT NO TIME TO LIVE

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

Tim: Jason. I'm bi

Jason: Okay

Tim: Okay? That's all you have to say?

Jason: damn Tim, tf you want be to say? Sorry?

Tim: No! I just thought-

Jason: If you have boy problems go to Dick. He's the one with the most experience in that field.

Dick: Hey! I resent that!

Jason: Oh please, you can call yourself straight all you want but you and both know you've what kinda person you were when you first became Nightwing.

Dick: I wasn't gay Jason I was a slut its different.

Jason: sure, okay.

-✨✨✨✨✨✨

I'm gonna make this a series lmao. Being in a house with 6 kids gives you a lot of stories.

Also, yes, 3 of my younger siblings are officially diagnosed with autism. (Damien and my sister are literally the same person. I have so many headcanons about it, it's not even funny. She even has the same insane art skills, I'm terrified of how fast she learned to do things I've been in school for years to learn)

Conditional Male Privilege

Not long ago I wrote up a long post about my newfound male privilege when it comes to health care which uh. Kind of broke containment.

This past week I had an experience which reminded me that no matter how much progress I make, my male privilege is still extremely conditional.

There are the obvious points like, I'm gay, and soft, and gentle, and chubby, and short, so a lot of people see me as "not a real man" even if they don't realize I'm trans.

But even in the very situation I used as an example of my privilege before (health care), that privilege can be stripped away in an instant if you get the wrong doctor.

Last week I had to see my GP for an urgent problem: I had covid. (They insisted I had to come in person, though obviously I wore a mask.) I have a lot of chronic health issues, and I wanted to try antivirals to reduce my odds of getting long covid (even though my symptoms weren't too severe). Because it was urgent, I didn't get a choice of which doctor at my clinic I would get to see. And the one they sent me to was a woman with a history of dismissing my chronic health problems and pain as "just anxiety."

I had not seen this doctor since my transition. But as I wrote in my previous post, any female-presenting readers will know what I mean when I say she "talked to me like a girl."

First off, she called me in by my deadname. She is the only doctor at this clinic who does this. Everyone else knows to call me by my real name even though it's not officially changed yet. There's a big obvious note on my file. But she called me in by my deadname (in front of the entire waiting room) and when she saw me, she didn't quickly apologize or correct herself.

I explained the issue: I have covid (they tested me and confirmed it) and I want to try antivirals because my chronic health problems (still in the process of being formally diagnosed) put me at greater risk of long covid.

And suddenly I was a child again, facing a mean lady doctor who wanted to lecture me about how I was wasting her time. She didn't scold me, didn't get angry. She just laughed. She chuckled at every concern I brought up. She raised her eyebrow. She rolled her eyes several times.

She refused to check my file. She refused to take my temperature. She kept telling me to "stop worrying so much."

I explained, calmly, rationally, that I would like to try antivirals to reduce my risk of long covid. She explained, holding back laughter, that I "wasn't that sick" and "it's not like you're at risk." She specified, "It's not like you have an autoimmune disorder or something." I countered, calmly, rationally, that in fact I was at risk, or at least there was a strong chance of me being at risk. That I had a lot of chronic health problems that have been documented for years, that one of my doctors suspects and autoimmune disorder such as MCAS (given that I have bad allergic-seeming reactions to almost everything including most medications, even antihistamines, and severe acid reflux that prevents me from taking most meds that might help me), and that while the process of getting a diagnosis might take a very long time, my symptoms ought to make it clear that I am at a higher risk than a typical person. What's more, it's the middle of summer, in a heat wave, the infection rate being reported is extremely low, and there should be no shortage of antivirals for those who want them.

Refused to check my file. Rolled her eyes. Scoffed. Repeated that I'm not that sick. That I'm not at risk. Put on her "okay, sweetie" voice and insisted that I was fine, that I just needed to "stop worrying", that "covid is mild now," that I just needed "vitamin c and a bit of rest," and that she "wasn't worried."

If I found myself with a bad cough or a fever, I could come back to her (she specified) in a few days for a check-up. I told her I already had those symptoms. I'd been suppressing the cough with menthol candies to avoid frightening the other patients and spewing germs everywhere, but I'd been kept up all night hacking up phlegm.

She raised her eyebrow and told me to take some Robitussin.

I told her I already had a fever, which was going up and down, but at its highest was high enough that adults are advised to seek medical assistance. She rolled her eyes and refused to even check my temperature.

She gave me two prescriptions for the symptoms and sent me on my way. I grabbed them at the pharmacy and looked at them closely when I got home.

One was a nasal spray. I can't use nasal sprays because of sensitivity in my nose, so that one was out immediately.

The other was pseudoephedrine (good, that's good stuff and not available OTC in this country)... combined with Loratadine. A fucking. Antihistamine.

She prescribed this to me less than five minutes after I finished explaining to her that I can't take most antihistamines.

Despite my increased confidence now that I'm on HRT, I still freeze up when faced with a hostile doctor. I have too many years of trauma (and too many autism gremlins) to be able to stand up for myself the way I should. I've tried memorizing the scripts - please write down in my file that you refused to give me this treatment and your reason why, and I would like a printed copy of that when I leave - I feel like you are treating me differently because I am transgender or because you perceive me as female and I would like that reflected in the notes for this visit - etc. But in the moment, all I can think of to say is "but... but.... but....... but I really am sick....."

And I've been masking my autistic traits and hiding my pain and illness for so long that a doctor who has already decided I'm a hypochondriac will always reply, simply: you don't look sick to me.

I wrote to the clinic asking for a written explanation for her refusal to give me antivirals, as well as a request for a different prescription because, "As I mentioned during my visit today," I couldn't take the antihistamine.

She replied by apologizing for the medication error and sending me a new prescription (pseudoephedrine + ibuprofen - you can't get pseudoephedrine on its own in this country). She did not respond to the part about refusing me antivirals.

I have booked an appointment later this week with the good doctor at this clinic, the one who takes me seriously and actually wants to help me. The one who gave me a referral for a pain doctor (something I'm still trying to get an appointment for - there's a shortage of specialists in this country). This time I'm going in prepared. I will follow up with him on my current state, and I will bring notes. I will tell him what happened with his colleague, how it made me feel, and how frustrated I am. I will ask him if there is any avenue for me to lodge a formal complaint. I may not have been able to stand up for myself in the moment, but I will not simply let this slide. It's too late for antivirals, but I will ask him to at least make sure the visit I had last week is recorded accurately in my file.

Fortunately my covid symptoms are mostly gone already and it seems I was lucky. Still, it will be some time before I am 100% sure I haven't gotten any long covid symptoms. And the fact that there was a medication readily available that could have increased my odds and I was refused it for no reason other than misogyny (doubly frustrating when directed at a trans man!) is utterly infuriating to me.

I am still better off than I once was. Most doctors DO take me more seriously now.

But my doctors will always know I'm trans, even when I get my paperwork updated.

And there will always be doctors who treat me like a woman.

And there will always be doctors who treat women like shit.

They shouldn't have talked to me that way. They should never talk to anyone that way.

I don't think doctors don't understand that I don't want to rely on medications. I have sensory issues to liquid medications and I have dysphagia which makes swallowing pills very difficult. The only medication I am okay with relying on is my migraine medications because my neurology team actually thoroughly investigated all other potential neurological problems before officially diagnosing me with migraines and they were correct about it being migraines and the medication isn't a "maybe this'll work but you'll just deal with it if it doesn't". It's a "Let's try a few things. Oh, it works? Awesome, let's keep going".

And my gastroenterology team thoroughly investigated my digestive problems before prescribing a medication because they knew that I would refuse to do it unless I knew it would help me while also considering my sensory issues. And it's a short term medication that I no longer need to take because they found the problem and only wanted me on it to help me HEAL not just cope with the problem.

If I can get help to prevent me from needing pain meds in the first place, then I want THAT not just pills without thorough investigating.

I'm not one to just reject a doctor's explanation for the pain I have experienced my entire time but I reject my rheumatologist's explanation. He said "you have the trait not the illness" like no motherfucker you're not going to take my words and twist them to fit your agenda while ignoring the opinion of multiple other and the fact that my chronic pain has been documented SINCE I WAS BORN and then NOT EVEN GIVE ME THE FULL WORKUP WHERE YOU WOULD HAVE SEEN THE OTHER TYPES OF SCARRING THAT I HAVE.

No, I fucking reject it. I want the full workup I was told I would get. The kind that wasn't covered up by shoes literally designed to NOT let my knees hyperextend.

He didn't even want to call it a syndrome of any kind just because I don't have skin hyperextensibility (which EDS does not require for diagnosis).

Fuck you. I'm too fucking tired to be dismissed like this. I'm not gonna go back into this until I see my doctor for my physical in October.

If my dad's not working then, I'll probably bring him to help advocate for me because he's seen the exact kind of pain I've experienced. And it's definitely not going to be with THAT doctor.

And this is not to dismiss pain pills. They are extremely helpful but I have other problems that make taking pills very difficult and I'd rather have preventative measures rather than ones to treat the avoidable problems.

"Oh there's a difference between trait and illness" motherfucker this is a fucking illness. The appointment was short, there was no thorough evaluation. You didn't have me take off my shoes that literally are made to prevent hyperextension of my knees. You didn't have me take off my sweater to see how far my elbows extend. You didn't have me put a gown on that would have shown the scarring on my legs. You didn't do your job and ****I**** have to suffer for it.

🌈My Goals For 2024

I told myself I wasn’t going to do resolutions this year but heck it, I am!

🧸Prioritize Play Of course there are times where I “play” every day but I’m talking about something more dedicated and specific. As in with actual toys or otherwise no devices around / access to the outside world. Which at the moment is something I only experience a couple times a year at most. A big problem for me aswell is that I don’t know how to play. I have a terrible imagination and I can line my toys up or get a scene made but to actually engage in that is difficult. However play has a huge impact on my mental health, I feel my best mentally when I have been able to have a play session. So I want to try and make a priority to myself to at the very least try playing once a week.

📚Read More Last year was my first year getting back into reading ( really since I was in high-school ) and it was a big success! I set myself with a goal of 5 books, and I read 13!

This year my goal is to read 10 books, and I think I will hit it because last year I didn’t start reading until the Summer, now I’ve got all year. I think that every year I will add 5 books to my goal just to keep it manageable. A bigger part of this for me is to make sure that I am reading every day if I am able to. If you wanna track my progress or see the things I like, feel free to add me on Goodreads!

🌈Accomidate For Myself

A big one…but just like reading it is something I started doing more at the end of 2023. I have always felt like I might be on the spectrum of neurodiversity and the more I look into myself and my entire life the more apparent that has become, so I have been trying to allow myself to just…be me and not be who other people want me to be / be “normal”. This means so, so many things for me. Seeking a diagnosis ( or more answers ) is something I want to look into in the future, I am diagnosed BPD but especially these days I don’t even feel like I would meet the diagnostic criteria anymore. Of course you don’t need an official diagnosis but I would not feel comfortable calling myself without one because I don’t want to invade spaces I don’t belog in and also because it would be nice to be told “you are this way because of x” would make me feel much better about myself.

This is probably gonna be the biggest / word rambly section of the blog so feel free to skip it!

A really huge step for me regarding this was how I navigate social spaces online. As in I finally allowed myself to only follow people I want to, break mutuals, block people, ect. I had been forcing myself to follow people I didn’t want to for years just because we were mutuals, and same goes for blocking people too. And this also goes for communication too. For so, so long I wondered what was wrong with me and why I found messaging people so draining…and maybe I just am not meant to communicate like other people are! What also helped me was that I realised I just can’t talk to people on places like Telegram that allow you to see when the other person has viewed your message, it makes me anxious to know people can see when I viewed there messages ( because I’m not free to chat all the time ) moving to Discord primarily ( where I can I have some friends who aren’t on there ) is a massive help.

Being more unapologetic in regards to special interests too.Indulging in these things does wonders for my mental health and makes me happy in ways I can’t describe… my special interest is Spirit Riding Free. Something widely hated by most furries due to their connections to Spirit Stallion Of The Cimmaron. So I’ve not talked about it as much because the comments of people hating it are just tiresome. However I am finally going to allow myself to express myself the way that I want to without shame. I started up a document for my collection, and made a whole blog where I am free to talk about it as much as I please without bothering other people. There is not a whole lot of merchandise in the UK but I recently found a large selection of adult Spirit clothes on Amazon that I would like to have, at present I’ve only got one shirt. And being able to incorporate it into every day makes things much easier for me.

I struggle a lot to go out by myself. People always take pictures of me, stare at me, or laugh at me. And I still haven’t fully adjusted to being here despite having moved over 4 years. Something I realised that helps me a lot is bringing things to stim with when I need to go out. This is something I want to continue to do more of, and if I cna muster the courage is to carry a stuffed animal around with me even if I am by myself.

If you read this giant ramble, I’m very sorry! If you’d like to share your goals for this year please feel free to. I’d love to see them : D

a bit of background:

hi. my name is joely, and i'm 18. as my problems grow stronger, and my symptoms get worse, ive deceived to document my disease on this platform.

ive never been officially diagnosed, that's something i'm currently working on. i do, however, have an extensive family history of the disease. my grandmother needed a hysterectomy, my mother had ovarian cysts and needed the organs removed (along with great deals of infertility), my twin sister had ovarian torsion. my sister and i are both on birth control: we have been since elementary school. she's on an injection, however, while i have a bad fear of needles. as a result, i stick to the pill.

my symptoms fall a bit further out of the general menstruel cycle. i think this is why i've been run through so many doctors. the biggest issue being my abdominal pain. along side regular period cramps, i get bad intestinal cramps. as in, skip work, school, parties, family events, bad. i get chills and hot flashes from them, shakes and tremors. i've had this issue since 6th grade. of course, being a sort of misunderstood illness, i was diagnosed with IBS-D. this was in may of 2021. the fodmap diet i was put on did not help. the dicyclomine i was prescribed did not help. another lesser symptom, rib pain. some lower back and shoulder, too, but always under the right side of my ribs. the birth control i take completely stops my period, but never stops the pain. when i am on my period, im completely out of commission. i become more miserable than i already am.

i've been trying to get a laparoscopy, but given that i only turned 18 2 months ago, that's a difficult thing. my mother doesn't want me to have one yet, she believes i'm too young. i think that's bullshit. if im in this much pain and im still lacking a diagnosis, then what am i meant to do? just accept it? is that really all i have left? i want to know what is going on in my body. if it happens my pain doesn't come from endometriosis, then maybe it CAN be cured. if not, then at least i'll know.

a bit about me outside of that, i love art. i've made some on endometriosis that ill post soon, but i think it really is the best way to symbolize my pain and struggle. i hope to make more in the future

ill try to keep this blog updated with my symptoms or any medical updates. i have another appointment coming up this month, im hoping i can discuss surgery options then. thank you for taking time to read of my story 💛

if its not too weird to ask, could you write some posts abt rad + asd (either one or both/abt comorbidity)? cuz i wanna find more info abt them & i saw stuff saying asd/rad cmrbidity was impossible too & think i may have both. i have zero access to mental health help atm and will for a pretty long time so im just doing what i can as i wait, document my symptoms and stuff and try to cope, for now. (btw im saying this 2 clarify tht im not trying to be invasive or out of curiosty. sry its so long)

It's no problem! Honestly, I'm excited to hear about someone like me, with how uncommon it is. No need to worry about it being long, because my answer ended up long as well ^-^;;

I wrote this quicker than I expected, so please forgive any mistakes, and feel free to ask for clarification. 

I’m mostly going to use the term ‘RAD’ (reactive attachment disorder), but a lot of this information applies to DAD (disinhibited attachment disorder) as well. I was diagnosed when they were still grouped together as RAD.

If any information does not apply to both, I’ll specify the differences between them.

First off: there is no reason autism and RAD can’t be comorbid. Now, most psychologist insist that they cannot exist together, but this is outdated. Unfortunatly, because RAD is so uncommon, very little discussion occurs, and thus any progress in understanding the disorder takes a bit of time.

Fortunately, some discussion has begun. This study is one from 2017. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/27895198/

As of now, it’s the only scholarly discussion, but hopefully that will change in time.

Essentially, autism is something you’re born with, while Reactive Attachment Disorder is the result of severe neglect or mistreatment.

The study found that several children diagnosed with RAD met the criteria for autism. The difference in children with autism and RAD vs children with only RAD can be distinguished by focusing on traits specific to autism.

That’s actually how I first suspected I had both: I looked through several diagnosis lists and checked whether I had symptoms exclusive to each list.

One of the current diagnostic criteria for RAD  and DAD is that the child cannot also be diagnosed with autism. This is because RAD, and later, DAD, were often used to explain ‘autistic-like behavior’ in children who either did not show signs of autism early on, or who experienced severe mistreatment.

The main reason this is outdated is because it relies on the belief that autistic individuals do not form attachments to caregivers, which many autistic people will tell you is false. That all relates back to the idea that because autistic people show affection differently, they do not feel it the way allistic people do, which is, again, false.

It’s often difficult to get an RAD diagnosis, much less one along with an autism diagnosis. However, it’s not impossible, although for me it involved two different diagnosises that my grandma and I realized made most sense together.

Under the cut, I’m going to talk more generally about RAD and DAD as well as about my experiences.

 You said you don't have much access to mental health help, but I felt I should include this next segment anyways. 

Attachment therapy, one of the most well-known treatments, is harmful. I would suggest avoiding it. It goes against attachment theory, the basis of RAD. I don’t say this to scare you, but it is coercive and has resulted in death in some cases. You can look into it yourself, but it is rather sickening for me, so please take care if you do so.

While most advice involves making sure the child has an emotionally available ‘attachment figure’, usually a caretaker, that assumes you would want someone to connect to that way.

As someone with inhibited type RAD, I always struggled when people asked if I wanted to be closer to my grandma. To me, we were like strangers, maybe coworkers. I didn't want to open up to her, and so I still don’t.

I believe that, while it’s nice to have a friendly relationship with caretakers, it’s not necessary. For me, it’s always been more important to have friends I can open up to.

Don’t feel pressured to form an emotionally intimate relationship if you don’t want to or feel ready for it. I still don’t think I’m close to my grandma, but we feel like acquaintances now, and that’s enough for me. You don’t have to force a relationship, but don’t be afraid if you want to start one.

Of course, you may have different experiences, or be in a different place with your caretakers, but since I've struggled with that aspect I wanted to talk about it.

Most treatment for RAD is under the assumption that the child is young, which I assume you are not. In general, I suggest finding people you can trust, if you don’t have them already. I don’t want to make too many assumptions here, so if you want more specific advice feel free to ask me.

While RAD is the result of mistreatment such as abuse or neglect, it’s rare even among those who have experienced such things. There’s some debate on why it occurs, and I believe many theories suggest disposition can make one susceptible? But I’m not entirely certain on that front. Also, I’d like to clarify one thing. While most criteria says the mistreatment must begun before age five, it’s not necessary. What happened to me was when I was 11, and it changed me enough that I gained a official diagnosis of RAD a few years later. What matters is how it affected you, not when it occurred.

Now, I’ve mentioned there’s a difference between RAD and DAD, but I haven’t specified what it is. I'll explain that, but to do so I need to talk about how they form.

The basis of RAD and DAD is what’s called attachment theory. This states that young children need strong bond with at least one caregiver to develop. The bonds with their caregivers dictate how their attachment style forms. However, RAD and DAD have their own types of attachment, referred to as inhibited attachment and disinhibited attachment.

They used to both be classified as RAD, separated under the categories ‘inhibited type’ and ‘disinhibited type’.

Many people with inhibited or disinhibited type will show signs of both, but can usually be classified as one or the other. I am inhibited type, but when I was younger I showed signs of disinhibited type in places such as school.

Inhibited attachment is what’s known as Reactive Attachment Disorder. It’s more common in mistreated children. This type is when a child avoids or ignores caregivers, often not showing affection unless convinced to.

Disinhibted attachment is what’s now known as Disinhibited Attachment Disorder. This is more common in children in institutions or group homes. This type shows affection to any and all adults. They are quick to trust strangers. When my grandma worked in foster care, she had some children who, after less than a day of meeting her, would cling to her leg and beg her to take them home.

In this case, inhibited types struggle to form attachments, while disinhibited types will form attachments quickly and easily, with no preference towards their caregivers.

I think that’s all for official information, so I'll talk a bit about my experiences with RAD.

Honestly, it’s isolating. It’s often seen as something that happens to children, and no one talked about adults with it. There’s numerous psychologists who’ll misdiagnose it in foster teens for not showing affection to adoptive parents ‘the way theyʻre supposed to’. Many people treat people with RAD or DAD as ‘psychopaths’, and there’s numerous times I’ve seen it listed as ‘terrifying’, even among the social workers that meet kids with it.

It's discouraging. But I want to tell you that you aren’t alone. I’d be happy to talk to you about your experiences, and share my own. I have hope that people will begin to recognize this disorder despite how uncommon it is, and see it for what it is.

In any case, I hope you are able to find the diagnosis you need, even if it doesn’t turn out to be this one. I wish you the best of luck!

Fic title meme : pulvis et umbra sumus (We Are Dust And Shadows)

On every single document, including the ones that show what actually happened to Howard and Maria Stark, Tony Stark is listed as dead among them. 

He is not. 

But in not calling in the accident on the abandoned road, Tony managed to find someone else to take his place and escaped. 

Tony Stark is dead. A whole family funeral and everything. Obadiah pretends to cry. Tony is at the funeral with shitty dye in his hair and sunglasses that he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. Ha. 

The funeral is closed casket. All their faces are rumored to be impossible to fix with make-up. 

He makes new documents. Anthony Jarvis, from Boston. Airtight background. Likes puzzles. Scored damn high on the SAT, but not the perfect score. 

(Killed him to answer some of those questions wrong, seriously.) 

Anthony Jarvis goes to MIT and requests a single room. He gets one for one semester, and then the room next to his burns and destroys his as well. So he gets moved to Jim Rhodes’. 

Jim becomes Rhodey, and he is the first friend of Anthony Jarvis, and nicknames him Tony. 

He grins at that. 

There are plenty of times that Tony wants to tell him. The thing about secrets is that they need to be shared. No one really wants a secret, nor do they want to keep it. But he keeps his mouth shut and asks if he wants to go for Thai food. 

“This is the third time this week.” 

“Not my fault it’s good! I’ll pay...” 

“Sign me up.” 

Tony and Rhodey gets Thai food. It’s good. 

Rhodey lets him in on a secret that Tony had actually known about since his room assignment. 

(You remember that guy’s room that caught on fire? Yeah, he swore that his microwave hadn’t been on, and nothing had been plugged in. He was right. But Tony needed an accident.) 

In other circumstances, Rhodey would have ignored the offer that he had. He had had his heart set on Air Force. But there was something about the man who talked to him. 

“It’s a place called Strategic-Homeland-something I can’t remember,” Rhodey says. “Point is, they’re a big deal and kind of shady, but not in the government shady kind of way. The only thing I can find out about them is that they’re an international company who need engineers, pilots, and basically anyone like you and me. I don’t know how I feel about it.” 

Tony nods. 

“You want me in on this?” 

“I mean, you did tell me a couple of weeks ago that you weren’t sure what you wanted to do after graduation.” 

(It was two weeks, three days, and fourteen hours ago. Not like he was counting.) 

“...thanks. I’ll check it out with you.” 

Anthony Jarvis shows up in a nice suit, stupid sunglasses, and impresses the higher-ups by diagnosing a problem with the engine that others had previously marked as “impossible.” 

He’s hired on the spot, same as Rhodey. 

Tony Jarvis gets his own keycard, finds an apartment in New York that’s within at least biking distance, and gets started on inventing some cute little toys for the spies in Research and Development. 

He brings the laser-lipstick to life, poison-drop-earrings, spyglasses that actually work and have HD, and briefcases that use mirroring technology to change color. 

“How did you do this?” Rhodey asks, eyes wide. “I swear this is unreal.” 

“Aw,” Tony says. “You sap. I got some inspiration from some old comic book ads. I think I’m gonna try a ring decoder next, what do you think?” 

“Almost makes me want to go on missions instead of flying them.” 

Tony Jarvis is known for working odd yet long hours. He comes up with results. And he keeps his head down and minds his own business. 

This is all to find out exactly who killed his parents. As much as his and Howard’s relationship was...interesting, he still wanted to know. 

His desire to know the truth leads to somewhere he hadn’t thought was possible: Hydra. 

His hands freeze as he looks at the paper file with thick, black lines all over. The information there was sparse. Howard, Maria, and Anthony Stark all died. It was ruled: 

And there’s nothing there. 

It wasn’t an accident. Sure he knew that, but there was something far more sinister at play. Why wasn’t it an accident? 

- 

He gets Alexander Pierce in his apartment with a man in the corner. His arm gleams in what little light from the lamps outside give off. 

“Why are you searching for the Stark files?” He asks. 

“Why didn’t you just schedule a meeting? I’m available tomorrow at three,” Tony jokes. “Who’s your friend here?” 

“Someone you wouldn’t want to shake hands with,” Pierce answers. “You need to stop looking into this before you find yourself in a situation you don’t want to be in.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

“Accidents will happen,” Pierce says. He gets up from the table, to the counter. Gets out a glass. And makes himself water. He smiles as he looks to the man in the corner. “Do you want any water, Winter Soldier?” 

Winter Soldier remains impassive. 

Tony stills. 

“So, the legends are true. And Hydra is still around.” 

“And if you aren’t careful, you won’t be,” Pierce says. “Don’t bring any of this up. Or this won’t be the last time you see Winter Soldier. I know your moves, Jarvis. Don’t think you can surprise me.” 

They exit the apartment. Tony realizes that Pierce took his glass. 

And he laughs. 

Because this? Not according to plan, but god he’s gonna have fun with it.  

It starts with telling Rhodey who he actually is. 

It does not go as planned. 

“So let me get this straight. I’ve known you for years and you just. Never told me?” Rhodey asks. “Why not?” 

“To be completely fair, no one knows besides a man in Wisconsin, and he’s from Wisconsin,” Tony says. “Also I was drunk. Drunk me is a terrible person who would sell me for a buffalo nickel.” 

“I’m still mad, even if that’s funny,” Rhodey says, trying not to smile. “So. Why tell me now? I’m assuming you need something.” 

“I would like your help,” Tony says. “It is not required but I am toppling a secret organization living in SHIELD and I think if I get your help, I will most likely not get fired by the end of this. Fury likes you, he hates me.” 

“False, he mildly tolerates you. You’ll be fine. Probably. Who else should we get to help?” 

Tony had originally planned for no one. 

But then there was Pepper Potts. 

She had been deemed by the media as “crazy” for accusing Obadiah Stane, longtime-CEO of Stark Industries, as ordering a hit out on the Stark family. 

She had been booted from the company--anticipated--and then Hydra had ordered a hit on her. 

Slightly unexpected. 

Point is, Rhodey brings her into the apartment and tells Tony casually that the grocery store had run out of his usual hummus brand, was the generic okay? 

“That’s like asking if I’m okay with blue pens,” Tony curses. “Also, is that Pepper Potts? Why is she here? Did you run into her at the grocery store?” 

“No, as I was coming back. Did you know that she has a hit out on her? Fun times.” 

“Oh my god, will someone explain to me what’s going on here?!” Pepper seethes. “I was just trying to get my yogurt without anyone taking a picture of me and some random fucking guy had a knife thrown at me and then this guy took me to your house!” 

She then rants for ten minutes about the “questionable design choices going on in this establishment, who honestly thinks shot glasses are a decoration?!” 

“Are you done?” Tony asks. “Because if you want to help with a conspiracy plot, you need to be done.” 

She is. 

Pepper does not get a job with SHIELD. In fact, she mainly just decides to take care of the redecoration in Tony’s apartment. 

“You will be paying me for this.” 

“Why would I do that? You’re using my money to buy everything. You’re living here rent free for now.” 

“Because I’m helping you make better life choices. I also want new shoes.” 

What Pepper does is provide very valuable access to Stark Industries: she knows the ins and outs, what employees do and don’t do, and also is very helpful in telling Tony what he needs to do when he takes the company over. 

“Who said I was going to take it over?” 

“Me,” Pepper says. “Also because I reviewed every single old document and the company was specified to go to next-of-kin. You are. And you’re not dead.” 

“My death certificate is literally framed,” Tony says, pointing to his graduation photo that Rhodey took. He had swapped out his official diploma with it as a joke. No one had seen it. He thought it was hilarious. 

“Yeah, but they can do DNA testing,” Pepper says. “This is like the twenty-first century Anastasia except this time they don’t find you with metal detectors!” 

“I don’t like that you know that story as well as you do,” Rhodey says. “But I’ll leave you a credit card for furniture and groceries. If you get rid of my drinks in the fridge I’m literally never forgiving you.” 

“Noted, and I don’t need forgiveness,” Pepper says. “But they’ll stay there.” 

So begins the plot. 

Pierce doesn’t know three things, which is a lot of things not to know: 

1.) Tony Jarvis is not Tony Jarvis. 

2.) Rhodey actually likes Tony and most of the time him saying that he would “kill Tony in a variety of ways, starting with sporks and moving forward...” is mostly (mostly) a joke. 

3.) Pepper Potts resides in their apartment and is having fun telling Tony she bought new silverware. 

“Why did you buy new silverware! It was fine!” 

“I recognized all of these forks and knives from restaurants. Why did you steal them from restaurants?” 

“They can replace them!” 

“Don’t. Anyways now your spoons match and you don’t have the shitty ones from different places. Also I painted the bathroom.” 

“My landlord is gonna kill me.” 

“I made her cookies and discovered that she likes going to concerts. You’ll be fine.” 

(Pepper is a goddess. You can’t convince them otherwise.) 

Pierce doesn’t know any of this, but he still holds a key piece of blackmail: Tony Jarvis shouldn’t know about Hydra, and he’ll do anything to make sure that he doesn’t lose his job. 

Tony has been recording their conversations for weeks. 

(Pierce thinks he doesn’t design things to get around the available technology. Pathetic.) 

He also has bugged Pierce as well as his house, and figures out that Winter Soldier is going to be on assignment within the DC area in an effort to kill some higher-up on the foodchain that was SHIELD. 

Well. 

Tony has always wanted to go and see the cherry blossoms a little more up close. 

Pepper, of course, doesn’t like that they left his boots on. 

“This couch is new and red,” she says. “Take off his boots!” 

“He is unconscious and probably won’t be in the next fifteen minutes,” Rhodey says. “We are not touching him and possibly shortening that fifteen minutes.” 

Winter Soldier wakes up to three faces staring at him. 

“Mission failed?” he asks, voice robotic. 

“Nope, you just got a new one,” says the man on the right. He is wearing a t-shirt. Winter Soldier thinks that in this situation, a t-shirt is not the best option. 

(Of course, he’s not supposed to think. But they don’t have to know that.” 

“Can you take your shoes off?” says the woman in the middle. “Please. You’re getting germs on the couch.” 

He’s confused. 

“Who am I killing?” 

“No one, yet,” says the man on the left. “Do you know who you are?” 

“Winter Soldier.” 

“No, like a name? I’m assuming you’ve had a name at some point.” 

“Someone has called me Mr. Freeze before.” 

The man on the left snorts. Man on the right taps his arm lightly. 

“Well, um, okay then. How do you feel about the name...aw shit. I can’t think of a name for you when your mask is on. Can you take the mask off?” 

He takes it off. It’s nicer to breathe. 

The man in the t-shirt pauses. 

“Okay. So your name is Bucky Barnes. Do you know that name?” 

Something clicked. But he doesn’t know what. 

“Sounds...familiar.” 

“Cool! So that’s your name now, do me a favor and don’t google it. I’m Tony, this is Rhodey, and this is Pepper. If you don’t take your shoes off, you’re going to be scared of her.” 

Newly-named-Bucky highly doubts that he will be scared of Pepper because she is built like a twig and she is wearing high heels. 

(He is wrong about ten minutes later when she forcibly throws a fork at him.) 

“Why am I here?” he asks. “Should I be checking back in with Handler Pierce?” 

“No,” comes the consensus from everyone else in the room. 

“Technically, he thinks you went rogue and went back to Russia. He’s organizing a team to go get you. We hired an actor to play you. It’s been entertaining. He got some plums. Do you like plums?” 

“Why is that relevant?” 

“It’s vapid and not interesting at all, Tony loves questions like that,” Rhodey says. “Now come on. We need to get you actual shirts. Also some body wash.” 

Bucky Barnes learns how to be a person. He stares at himself in the mirror for an hour and smiles slightly when Pepper calls him “vain” and pushes him aside to grab her hairbrush. 

He then learns that Hydra is trying to overtake SHIELD and they have a slight window with Pierce out. 

This involves two things: 

1.) Tony Stark coming back from the dead. 

2.) SHIELD panicking that they didn’t know this secret and taking another look at the paperwork, in which case Hydra will be found out. 

These are both easier than anticipated. Tony can act like a showman better than anyone, and has been carefully growing a goatee that is eerily reminiscent of his late father’s. Of course he’s had to switch it up. 

The media is going crazy. SHIELD as well. They’re scrambling to find paperwork that proves that it happened, and they find that the “accident” was no accident. That Howard hadn’t been working for the “enemy” at the time. 

The enemy was in the building, and they had blended in seamlessly. 

This all happens on a Wednesday, by the way. Pepper has it marked on the calendar and everything. Rhodey made his coffee. 

Bucky is busy slamming people into drywall and listening for any word from Rhodey, who is also slamming people into drywall. 

“You know, you’d think we’d get something like a suit of armor for this,” Rhodey pants out, slamming another guy out of his way. 

Bucky nods. 

“Best I can offer is a grenade.” 

“Where in the fuck did you get a grenade?!” 

“Supply closet. Second floor. What, you didn’t check?” 

“No sorry must’ve missed it--of course I didn’t fucking check the second floor closet!” Rhodey yells. 

Bucky says he’s stressed. He should calm himself. 

Rhodey chucks a particularly nasty Hydra agent out a window. 

(Bucky thinks Rhodey is probably the coolest person he’ll ever meet.) 

Tony is fashionably late to the take-down of the century. He’s already foiled a lot of plans, and taken a key-card for Project Insight to work. 

He waltzes in and nearly gets hit by a mug. 

“So, how’s the party going?” he yells over to Pepper. Pepper is still in her heels. She looks like a goddess still, as usual. It is a Wednesday, after all. 

“As fine as it can be,” Pepper says. “We’ve met some resistance. With Pierce gone there’s little infrastructure. You got his plane delayed, correct?” 

“Even better. Got it sent to London. Motherfucker is gonna be there for a while,” Tony says. “Also may or may not have said that he was a threat. SHIELD branch there will investigate, find out some questionable things in his file that he will swear up and down were never there.” 

“Good,” Pepper says. She launches a stapler at someone’s head. “Do you think we’ll have time to pick up takeout for dinner?” 

“Depends on whether or not Deputy Director Hill is Hydra.” 

They see Maria Hill pass by in a blur, yelling as she jumps onto a man and sends him crashing down over a railing. 

“Lovely, she isn’t!” Pepper cheers. “By the way, I was thinking about redoing our kitchen.” 

“‘Our’ kitchen?” Tony says, ducking a bullet and drawing out his personal lipstick-laser, firing it with expert precision. “I told you the living situation was temporary.” 

“Oh please, you have an extra room.” 

“Which was an office!” Tony tells her. 

“Like you can’t have your office at Stark Industries,” Pepper says. “I expect to hear how the reveal went over dinner. Also, please hire me back. I don’t wanna be your interior decorator for forever.” 

“Neither do I, you like modern art. Disgusting.” 

And so the fighting resumes. 

It is done by five-thirty-two, with an official surrender from Pierce. 

“Thank god, I already ordered Chinese and they said it’d be here at six,” Rhodey says. 

They all sit on the red couch. 

Shoes on. 

Tony tips four hundred percent. 

-

“So what are we doing tomorrow?” Rhodey asks. 

“I am not moving for six hours,” Bucky answers. “Also maybe getting a library card.” 

“This is the first thing you want out of the icebox? A library card?” Tony asks, laughing. 

Pepper laughs. 

“I have errands to run. You can come with me and we’ll swing by.” 

“What are the errands?” 

“Getting a kitchen mixer and also making sure that my plates match my napkins.” 

“A travesty if it doesn’t happen,” Rhodey deadpans. “Pass the lo mein, Tony. You’re hogging it.” 

“I had to fight on a Wednesday and run,” Tony says. “Today isn’t cardio day.” 

“Literally hate it when you speak,” Rhodey says. “Absolutely abhor your language.” 

They go to bed, although it’s more of laying on the floor. 

Sure, Tony will have to deal with retaking a business that he knows a bit less about and Pepper will have to be trained (again) and also fight against being made CEO (but she won’t fight much). Rhodey will get a new job with SI because it’s not like Tony will let him work at SHIELD (Rhodey tries, Tony will get him fired at some point). Bucky just...he needs to get a bit more than a library card. 

But that’s for tomorrow. 

Life Update/Vent

I’m not taking an official hiatus, I just wanted to kinda talk about where I’m at currently and what all has been going on in my life.

I’m having a really hard time keeping track of my threads currently. And while I know a lot of your responses will be like “use a thread tracker” or draft everything that’s just not... plausible atm. I don’t have the emotional spoons for that kind of task and it’s honestly really overwhelming, and even when I attempt to get people to tell me what threads we’re missing only about three people respond to me, which makes it even harder for me to get my shit together. And that’s not a blame thing, I just get really easily distracted and even looking for old threads can be next to impossible. Again, no one’s fault but my own, but it is where I’m at right now.

And I’m gonna put the rest of this under a cut. Just kind of telling y’all what is going on in my life and why writing is hard right now in case you’re interested or you’re thinking my lack of engagement is about a lack of desire to interact.

So I knew at the start of the summer I was going to go for some pretty intensive psychoanalytical testing. Over the years of working with autistic students, I noticed a lot of similar behavior patterns in myself. Issues with social interaction, sensory processing, emotional regulation, etc. After much reassurance from my therapist I agreed to go in for formal psychological testing. I came to her with my suspicions and got very lucky in scheduling.

Right out of the gate my summer was filled with anxiety about what was going to happen and how things would go at the intake, and then after the intake was done my anxiety ramped up about the testing. The testing was extremely emotionally taxing. It took hours and was very repetitive and just overall didn’t make me feel good about myself. I felt like every time they repeated a question about depression or anxiety that I was falling even deeper into the pit of self loathing. But I told myself that if these tests could help me get extended insurance coverage for therapy and some correct medication then all of it would be worth it. Well then before I even had the chance to recover from the experience of testing, I found myself getting extremely anxious about the results of the test and if I’d messed anything up. Not to mention during this time my family from out of town was here for nearly two weeks, and I had to do a hands on crisis management training (where I had to touch and be touched a LOT).

So honestly, while I haven’t being doing a lot from day to day this summer, emotionally I’ve had so much going on that if I’m not in near tears from anxiety I’ve gone completely numb and can’t get out of bed.

Today I got the results for my testing and I just have a lot of mixed feelings about it. I found out that the woman testing me (who I thought was just passing time on her phone ignoring me) was actually watching me the whole time and taking notes on me and while I think the report was meant to sound clinical there was some language in it that kind of feels untrue and dismissive. At one point it says I blame a lot of my issues on my parents. Which isn’t false, but it is weird language when I have years of documented treatment for chronic PTSD due to childhood abuse from those parents. 

They also took away my diagnosis for OCD and Idk how I’m going to wrap my head around that. I’ve had this diagnosis for years and I feel like it really accurately describes me and my experiences. And the clinician flat out told me that the tests strongly indicated toward obsessive compulsive disorder as well as obsessive compulsive personality disorder, but that she didn’t put that in her diagnosis because “I already had 4 diagnoses and adding any more was too many.” And not only does that kind of throw me for a loop in terms of where I stand but it also concerns me about the accuracy of my diagnoses if real results were discounted just because she didn’t want to go “overboard.” 

This is honestly a lot. I’ve gone from feeling pretty neutral about the information I’ve gotten, to being optimistic about it, and now to feeling kind of shitty about a few things after reading the full report myself and not just having it summarized. 

And I say all this possibly just because I have no one that I can really talk to about it and I need to get my thoughts down because it’ll be nearly a week before I get to a therapist, but I also need you guys to understand I’m just in a trash emotional space. I also found out that the people who preformed my testing don’t provide psychiatric care so I have to go through contacting more people, getting another intake with someone, and going through all of this before I potentially find any medication that could help relieve my stress. And to top it all off school starts back in a week.

So I’m very sorry on multiple levels. I’ve been a flaky communicator and dropped the ball on talking to several of the people I call friends on here. I’ve lost things. I’ve dropped threads. The only replies I can get to are the ones directly sitting on top of my draft pile because they’re the easiest ones to find/respond to. I hope you understand the problem is just with me and my very low tolerance for my every day life experience lmao. I appreciate those of you who are supportive of me, who talk to me and reach out and are patient. I haven’t left tumblr, I have no intention of leaving tumblr, and I love my threads and my partners very much. Life’s just hard folks. And I’m sorry.

How's a nice way to uh, remimd your school you have a diagnosis and it means something? Also explain it to my intership supervisor. Basically I have a huge problem with coordination and making my body do what I want it to and I am clearly seeing that this will put me at a disadvatage with a certaim bit in our training (I'm a speech therapist student) where certain excersises we do with patients sometimes/are taught requier coordination between physical movement and other body functions I CAN NOT achieve. Like it's impossible. My school has approved my status as a student with a disability for this and one other thing. So how do I politely remind involved teachers and later, inform a intership supervisor that this could be a problem?

Hello there. I say get as much documentation as you can. The more you have proving your diagnosis and explaining any necessary accommodations, the better off you’ll be.

I know that the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) in America offers several protections to folks who have diagnosed disabilities. For example, employers need to make reasonable accommodations to ensure that employees can perform necessary job functions. This law prevents against discrimination in hiring practices and employment practices; if you can do the job with or without accommodations and you meet the qualifications, then you would need to be seriously considered as a candidate for the position at least. I’m not sure if you’re in the U.S.; do you have anything like that in your country? If you don’t, I still say get as much official documentation as you can and present it only when absolutely necessary. You do not owe an employer your whole life story to prove you have a disability but can still do the work.

If you are in the US, then this is a great resource for you:

https://www.eeoc.gov/laws/guidance/your-employment-rights-individual-disability

If you are not, you may want to check this out: 

https://www.un.org/development/desa/disabilities/disability-laws-and-acts-by-country-area.html

It’s better to know your rights and to not need to exercise them than to not know them and need to exercise them.

If you sense your disability is going to prevent you from performing essential functions of a job, get that documented and request any necessary accommodations. It can show that you’re willing to try and make things work. If you absolutely cannot perform the necessary functions, ask for documentation of any official exemptions. Your school should have this information on file already.

In addition, be wary of supervisors or teachers or employers who may snoop or doubt you. Some folks don’t believe certain disabilities exist and may ask you invasive questions or request too much information to “prove” your case. The truth is, you only have to provide documentation and information when necessary. There’s a difference between you disclosing this information freely and someone else pestering you for your life story. 

What kinds of rules or laws does your school have to follow or enforce in regards to students who have disabilities? If they approved you for a position, then they believe you can do the work. Get them to back you up if necessary; don’t hesitate to tag in an advisor or someone higher up if an authority figure gives you a problem. Remember that being in school means that you have other adults to back you up and support you if there’s a problem. 

Don’t hesitate to reach back out if you need anything else.

Socially-distanced hugs,

Angelica Barile

Asking Jude has moved to its OWN platform at askingjude.org. We will still be answering submissions on Asking Jude, but the new website’s submissions will take priority. We highly recommend you create an account on Asking Jude’s website, so you can receive 24/7 support from the Asking Jude Team and our community members. 

Is it still safe to socialize outside?

As the coronavirus continues to rage throughout the country, public health officials are telling us to stay home this holiday weekend. Beaches in Texas, Florida and California are closed. And now some recent backyard gatherings are being blamed for new cases of Covid-19.

The new restrictions and outbreaks have led to new confusion about the safety of socializing outdoors. But experts say the science hasn’t changed: Your risk of catching the virus is much lower outdoors than indoors. If you want to spend time with friends, taking the party outside will reduce your risk of contracting Covid-19.

“Outside is definitely safer,” said Erin Bromage, a comparative immunologist and biology professor at the University of Massachusetts, Dartmouth. “But it’s the type of interactions you have when you’re outside that are important.”

A Japanese study of 100 cases found that the odds of catching the coronavirus are nearly 20 times higher indoors than outdoors. Outdoor gatherings lower risk because wind disperses viral droplets, and sunlight can kill some of the virus. Open spaces prevent the virus from building up in concentrated amounts and being inhaled, which can happen indoors when infected people exhale in a confined space for long stretches of time, said Dr. Julian W. Tang, a virologist at the University of Leicester.

If you socialize outdoors, it’s important to keep the guest list small. Socializing with just one additional household is safer than mixing multiple households. Make sure that the rate of Covid-19 in your community is low and falling. It’s safest to socialize when the test positivity rate is at 5 percent or lower — a level that reduces your chances of inviting an infected person to the party.

Recent clusters of cases have been linked to home gatherings that appear to have broken those rules. After an estimated 100 people gathered for a party in Rockland County, N.Y., public health officials tracked nine cases to the event. In Washington D.C., a June 18 backyard fund-raiser with about two dozen guests made headlines when the host and a few guests were reportedly diagnosed with Covid-19. In Texas, a May 30 surprise party infected 18 family members.

But adding to the confusion about outdoor gatherings is the fact that the continuing protests over police brutality and the killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis have not been associated with spikes in cases. The reason the protests haven’t caused a surge may be because protesters were often moving, lowering the risk of spending extended time with an infected person. Many marchers were also wearing masks.

“I can tell you from our own testing in Minnesota, which has been substantial, we have seen no evidence of any kind of measurable impact of protests on cases,” said Michael Osterholm, director of the Center for Infectious Disease Research and Policy at the University of Minnesota. “There could have been cases, surely, but it was not a major amplifying event.”

Julia Marcus, an infectious disease epidemiologist and assistant professor in the department of population medicine at Harvard Medical School, said the data collected from protesters so far, along with studies  suggesting that outdoors is lower risk for transmission, should reassure public health officials about the safety of masked outdoor gatherings and prompt them to open beaches and public outdoor spaces to help people gather more safely during the pandemic.

“Outdoors is what will save us,” Dr. Marcus said. “Why can’t the message be: ‘We understand you want to get together with friends. There are ways to do this safely.’ We’re just telling them not to gather. That doesn’t recognize basic human behavior and basic human needs.”

A review of 7,000 cases in China documented only a single instance of outdoor transmission — but it apparently occurred during a long conversation between two friends. One of them had just returned from Wuhan, the center of the outbreak.

If you attend a social event and find yourself in close conversation with someone from outside your household, even outdoors, wear a mask. Keep music levels low so people don’t have to shout. (Loud speaking expels more droplets than a quiet voice.) Don’t share food or serving utensils.

“I think people hear that it’s outdoors and think everything is fine,” said Linsey Marr, an engineering professor and aerosol scientist at Virginia Tech. “But it should be outdoors with distancing. If you have an outdoor gathering with a lot of people talking, you stand close. It’s loud, so you talk louder.”

Limiting the number of partygoers not only lowers your risk of running into someone who has the virus, but small numbers also make it easier to keep track of just a few people and maintain physical distance, said Dr. Asaf Bitton, executive director of Ariadne Labs at Brigham and Women’s Hospital and the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health.

Dr. Bitton notes that when a group gets larger, even outdoors, it can affect our overall spatial awareness, including proprioception — which is knowing where our body is in space without relying on visual cues. Add in alcohol, and our ability to keep our distance falls short.

“We also know that alcohol or other drugs and medications can significantly alter all senses, with a particularly large effect on proprioception,” Dr. Bitton said.

Dr. Osterholm agreed that people should be aware of the effect alcohol can have on efforts to keep a physical distance.

“One of the problems that happens with parties or events like this if alcohol is involved, even the most well-meaning individual who is trying to stay apart a certain number of feet, it’s an unnatural act,” he said. “People do come together. That’s just human nature.”

Even though socializing outdoors is relatively safe, people need to stay aware and vigilant. While it’s easy to keep your distance from strangers, it’s tougher to stay six feet from people you know, Dr. Tang said.

“It is different when you are interacting with people that you know. I was chatting to my gardener outside earlier this week when I realized that neither of us had masks on and we were getting too close,” Dr. Tang said. “So whilst people can be more socially distanced when outdoors, especially amongst strangers, with friends and family and once you start talking to someone at a garden party, people forget themselves, and they get too close.”

Phroyd

A Memory Without You

➜ Words: 10.4k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Angst, Superpower!AU

➜ Summary: Jung Hoseok is your saviour. Sure, he might just be a government worker tasked to investigate your life and ask a bunch of intrusive questions with his little clipboard, but he’s also the key to solving your troubles. You just hope he still remembers you when it’s all over.

➜ Warnings: Mentions to mental illnesses and discussions on issues related to memory loss.

Cr.

You step forward.   The office is small and it makes you afraid that the ceiling will close in on you, suffocating you to death. But your attention is stolen by the individual standing behind the desk, wearing a small smile. He’s a handsome man, casual suit, dark hair with surprisingly warm eyes. You don’t dwell in case he is a mind reader.    “Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you.”   “Likewise.” You shake his hand, nervousness beginning to chew at your bones. He motions for you to take a seat and there’s some more small talk made, introductions exchanged. He is seemingly friendly, but you can never trust your judgment when it comes to people like him.   “I’ve been personally assigned to your case,” the man, Jung Hoseok, tells you. He shuffles his paper, taking the pen from his blazer breast pocket. “Today, I’ll just ask some questions and clarify some things, okay? And then we’ll discuss the next steps. Sound good?”   “Yes.”   He nods and begins to flip through your file, hundreds of reports and claims, tests and health evaluations that are somehow supposed to summarize your existence. “It says here that you’ve only recently identified your ability?” His eyes flicker up and you recognize the curiosity since it’s been presented in so many before.    You’ve just found it and now you wanted to remove it so soon. It is an odd situation.   “Yes.” Your hands are shaking in your lap and you grip the hem of your pencil skirt to get a grip. “I’ve-uh….actually discovered it when I was sixteen, but it’s only been five years since doctors have diagnosed it officially.”   “That’s a long time,” he muses, scribbling something down and it adds to your anxiousness. You know you’re an unusual case — it’s supposed to take professionals minutes or seconds to identify abilities. Never days, weeks, months. Or in your case, years.   You nod in confirmation. “They….they didn’t really believe me. There was a lot of testing I had to do.”   “That’s unfortunate,” he sympathizes politely. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”   “It’s alright. I’m just happy they identified it.” Even if you belong to no real category. You’re labeled as miscellaneous and it always garners strange looks at city hall or when you have to travel for work.   The government worker continues, “How has your health been lately, Y/N?”   “It’s been...better.”   Hoseok lifts his chin, connecting his eyes with yours. “On the fourth health examination, you’ve been diagnosed with mild depression and generalized anxiety disorder?”   “Y-yes.”   “Is that affecting your life drastically these days?”   “Ummmmm……” You’re not sure what kind of question that is or how you should answer, but it’s protocol and you manage, “There’s been a lot of improvement in my life. I feel better. I’ve been going to work consistently. There hasn’t been much of a problem….”   “That’s good,” he nods and writes it down, taking note of it. It feels like an interrogation, a spot light shined on you, someone firing question after question. You shift uncomfortably and Hoseok notices, reading the expression on your face. He sets his pen down. “I’m sorry for putting you through this. I don’t mean to be so intrusive.”   “No, it’s okay. It’s your job, I understand.” You’ve been through worse in these past five years. The moment your ability was officially documented, you worked towards this. There are tens of steps, process slow and painful but it’s understandable. Even if this is a government service, they don’t want to be held accountable. The practice is already looked down upon. They have to ensure there are substantial grounds for doing this. Everything must be careful and calculated.   Jung Hoseok asks a few more questions and once satisfied, he claps his hands together.   “Okay, I think that’s all I need to fill out the report.”   “Then you’ll contact me next week?” you ask, unsure.   “Yes,” he reassures and then goes on to explain, “In the coming weeks, I’ll give you a call and for several days, I’ll be observing you. The length varies depending on the case, but it’s typically really short term. I’m going to see how this ability affects your day to day life and if it’s detrimental or not to your health or general well-being. You don’t need to do anything differently. As normal as possible is actually better. Just go on about your day and I’ll shadow you.”   The observation week doesn’t sound too bad when he explains it like that. At least, it can’t be any worse than the week you had to spend at the psychiatry department of the hospital.   He’s a professional. A good judge. He won’t criticize your life or look down on you, you know that much. Still, with all these facts you comfort yourself with, it doesn’t make you any less nervous. The thought of a stranger intruding in your routine makes it hard to cope. There’s no way you can control what he thinks. And whatever decision he comes up with at the end of his investigation will drastically affect you….   But you’ll do this at any cost. “Okay, t-that sounds good.”   “Great.” He slides over several documents. “Here are some forms to sign. It’s just a disclosure that says you want to go through with this investigation and so the government won’t be held responsible if you decide to sue or press any kind of privacy invasion charges. Take your time reading it and when you’re ready, sign here and here. Feel free to ask any questions if you have them too.”   “Alright.” You take the pages into your hands, having a difficult time reading when you’re this nervous. The words almost scramble on the paper, lines too close to one another, font too small. But you manage a long glance and you take the pen, signing it, staining the white with ink swirling the loops of your name.   He takes it after you’ve set it down.   “There we go.” Hoseok stands and shakes your hand with a reserved smile. His skin is warm, and you notice that his palm is larger as it clasps yours. “I look forward to working with you, Miss. Y/N.”   You meet his warm eyes, swallowing hard. “Thank you for all of this.”   “It’s no problem.”   //   The wait is slow and excruciating. It’s drawn out with days and nights you spend staring at your phone, waiting for that call or maybe a text message, any indication at all that might signal his arrival. It’s difficult to remain calm and patient when you’ve been counting down the days, hours, minutes, seconds.   But finally it arrives.   Three weeks after the first meeting, your phone rings and it’s him on the other line, smooth voice, undertones of chirpiness that you wish you had.   “Good morning.”   Jung Hoseok is wearing a bright smile as you open the door. He’s dressed more casually than before, no suit and tie but plaid shirt and cargo shorts. He would look like a tourist if not for how he carries the clipboard in his arms — it makes him more reminiscent to a summer camp counselor.   “Good morning,” you greet him with a polite smile as well, widening the door for him to step inside.   “Nice weather, isn’t it?”   “Yes, it’s really nice.” You’ve never been more awkward in your home before. “H-have you ate breakfast yet?”   “I’ve had some coffee.”   “That’s not a real breakfast,” you say with a smile, joking around a bit to ease the tension.   “I’m fine, really,” Hoseok insists and you nod. “Just don’t mind me. Go about your day normally and I’ll follow you.”   “Okay.” You shuffle backwards, body turning slightly. “I’m just having some cereal right now.”   “Alright.” The man is like a house inspector as he scans the premise of your home. “Is it alright if I take a look around?”   “Sure, go ahead.” Everything is organized and in neat condition. It wasn’t too difficult to clean the place when you live alone and just have to pick up after yourself.    You leave to the kitchen, finishing your food before you’re late for work. A glance over your shoulder, you find him peeking at the knick-knacks on your shelves, staring at the pictures of yourself from childhood that you put on display. He scribbles something down on the clipboard and you would feel severely scrutinized if not for the smile he has.   As you wash your dishes, Hoseok comes strolling in. “I really like your home. It’s cozy.”   “Thanks.” You smile. “Um...I usually leave in five minutes if that’s okay with you.”   “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Just go on about your day.”   Your life is rather normal and mundane. Plain. It’s probably less dramatic than some other cases he’s investigated — you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s deathly bored. You also know that it doesn’t look good for your situation. It’s not like you’re suffering immensely or directly inhibited due to your abilities, but there’s no way for you to dramatize your circumstances.   You can’t show your pain. There’s no physical evidence. It doesn’t come through direct actions or shown through horrible crying sprouts. It’s the little things in your life that aren’t visible — and you’re not sure that’s enough cause for them to help you in the way you want them to.   Nonetheless, you push the thoughts aside as you drive with him sitting beside you.   “Can you tell me a little more on what you do for work?” Hoseok inquires to fill the silence, drawing up a conversation.   “It’s just a customer service job at a marketing firm. I...uh..pick up calls mostly, answer people’s questions, schedule appointments, write up order forms and get payments. It’s not much, but it's honest work and it pays the bills.”   “No, that sounds great. Do you enjoy it?”   “Sometimes,” you answer. “It’s alright on most days.”   By the time you get to work, the cubicle next to yours is empty. You settle down and he trudges over with his bag full of his own belongings, setting up to do his own work while you do yours. Your boss was already given a notice and understands that he would be shadowing you for a short period of time.   Your coworkers, on the other hand, are curious. They glance over, murmuring amongst themselves who the man is. Yet, no one asks you any questions.    You do your own work as normal, answering calls and filling out reports. Every once in a while, Hoseok looks over and it feels like he’s a colleague of yours more than someone investigating your lifestyle.    By lunch, you eat by yourself at your cubicle, Hoseok mimicking you, and one more bathroom break is taken before you work straight until five o’clock. People clock out and you finish as well, waiting for him to pack up and stuff things back into his bag. Hoseok follows you out.   “Where to next?” he asks with a small smile.    You’re sleepy, but made awake by his question. “Umm...just home. Is there anything you’d like to eat for dinner?”   “Oh. I’m fine with anything,” he chirps and it feels better when there’s someone more full of life beside you. The energy is almost infectious. “Don’t mind me.”   “D-do you have a preference though?” The elevator reaches the ground floor and you walk off. “Between macaroni and lasagna.”   Hoseok hums a low note. “Lasagna sounds good.”   You smile. “Okay. I’ll have macaroni then.”   Sadly, the food you offer him isn’t freshly cooked or bought from a restaurant.   You stand in front of the machine in your pajamas, listening to the whirring, watching the yellow light and how your dinner spins on the dish slowly. Hoseok doesn’t mind eating frozen food as much as you thought he would. He says it makes him nostalgic on his childhood and he sits down across the table to you. It’s nice to have someone here that you can make small talk with.   You ask about his job and he tells you he works from nine to five much like you, partly in the office and the other part out on the field investigating cases. He seems to enjoy his line of work and his enthusiasm is inspiring.   But in the middle of the conversation, it strays off from him to you.   Hoseok calls your name and you look up. “Can I ask you something?”   “Of course.” You offer a reserved smile. “You’re allowed to ask any question, right?”   “I guess.” A tiny laugh comes from his mouth. “But I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”   “It’s fine,” you reassure. “Is there something the matter?”   “No. I’m just wondering if you’re always this isolated,” he’s blunt and his sharp eyes narrow in on you, assessing each of your movements. You swallow hard, perspiration from your hairline and he continues, “You don’t seem to speak a lot throughout the day. No pets, family, or friends at work?”   “I...umm….” There’s no lie to conjure up when the evidence is so obvious. “N-not really.”   “I’m not trying to insult you or anything.” Hoseok brows furrow and he tips his head to the side, staring like you have something on your face. “I’m genuinely curious.”   “I can’t…..really...get close to anyone.” The food is stale and you can’t swallow it down your gullet anymore. Your mouth is too dry. “I’m not that close to my friends anymore.”   “Is there a reason…?” he pries not for his own knowledge but to fill the report, figure out if you’re suffering enough. As if suffering could be definitely measured.    “I..umm…” You brace yourself with a deep breath, diverting your vision elsewhere. “I can’t really. If I ever love someone or someone loves me...they forget.”   His brows lift. “They….forget?”   The information is only known to few. All he knows is that you’ve been categorized into miscellaneous, the details of your ability are protected for your own privacy. But you nod anyhow, confirming his disbelief with hope for his aid. “They lose their memories about me. Everything that links me to them disappears. Pictures. Belongings...so I-uh can’t really um-...love anyone….”   “Oh.” He processes the gravity of the situation, grasping an understanding of why you’re trying so desperately to get rid of it, why you’re willing to go through this excruciating process. “I’m sorry.”   As inappropriate and even insulting as it is, it’s instinctual to apologize. He hasn’t seen a case like yours before.   You smile, understanding his sympathy. “No, it’s okay. It’s no one’s fault really and it’s out of my control. It’s not….as terrible as you might think.” The only way you can cope is through optimism. “It’s unique and I like to think I’m kind of like cupid.”   The corner of his mouth quirks. “Cupid? What do you mean?”   “Sometimes, they don't just forget. They end up meeting their soulmate.” Those who forget you often meet the person they’re supposed to be with, the person that isn’t you. You’re a matchmaker to those that you love. “At least I can help people, right?”   Hoseok stares. He watches you shrug, playing with your food before trying to take a bite. It’s quiet and he exhales. “That’s one way to look at it. It’s definitely unique.” He tries to match your chirpiness, but it comes up grimmer than intended. You recognize the pity and look away.   “I’ll do my best to help you, Y/N,” Hoseok murmurs, finishing up.   Tears cloud your vision and you nod, grateful for his sincerity, grateful that he’s recognized your hardships. “Thank you.”   //   It continues for the next few days — Hoseok shadows your quiet life, but he now knows your downlow existence isn’t purposeful. You were forced to live this way.    Gradually, you begin to enjoy his company. You become more comfortable with one another. It’s not so strange or nerve wracking anymore to be in his presence or have him accompanying you from place to place. If anything, it’s less lonely when he comes around breakfast, leaving after dinner. You share your meals with him, small talk becoming deeper and more interesting, and you don’t even see his clipboard anymore. It almost feels normal.   It’s a Saturday morning with Hoseok helps you run some errands. He escorts you to the grocery store, picking up his own things as the two of you weave through the many aisles. He insists on carrying your bags and you eventually relent. But as he pays for his own things, you decide to leave first, wanting to stop by the thrift store next door.   Though your steps come to a halt when you find an older lady struggling with her bags in the middle of the parking lot. She’s an old woman, hunched over, frail hands and shaking arms. It takes less than a second for her to drop her groceries and for fruit of all sorts to go tumbling out.   You step forward.   “Oh my goodness— oh, thank you so much for helping.”   “No, it’s...fine…” You reach down, collecting her produce and stuffing them back in the bag.   “You’re so sweet. Thank you.”   “I can bring it to your car if you’d like.”   “Would you? My back is feeling awful these days.”   “It’s not a problem.” You assist her with her bags, relieving the tension in her arms and shouldering the weight. By the time Hoseok exits the store and goes looking for you, confused at how you’ve disappeared, you’re finished loading her things in the back of her car.   He soon spots you and approaches. “Y/N?”   “Hey…”   The lady gently closes the truck of her small car. “Thank you so much for helping. I really appreciate it.” She looks over Hoseok and smiles softly. “Your wife is so kind. You’re very lucky to have someone so compassionate.”   “Oh...we’re…”   “Umm…” There’s no use in clearing up the misunderstanding, so you settle for, “You’re welcome.”   “Have a good day now.” You’re left standing there, watching her smile and get into her vehicle.   Hoseok walks towards the direction of your parked car with you, holding onto all the groceries. “What happened?”   You stop momentarily, looking over your shoulder to observe the way the car drives off. “I was just helping her with her groceries.”   But as your eyes are strayed off, Hoseok’s own are pinpointed on your face. There’s an expression that he can’t decipher, that seems conflicted and sad all at once. He’s not sure what spurs the next question, though it tumbles from his lips anyhow, “Did you know her?”   Your head turns, gaze meeting Hoseok’s. “She’s...my mom…”   And she didn’t recognize you whatsoever.   Your own mother gave birth to you and raised you.    There’s not even a single inkling or sign of awareness.   The realization slams into Hoseok and while you smile, walking off to the car, he can’t help but let his eyes bore into your backside, brows knitted together. His heart aches. It squeezes in his chest, making him uncomfortable. His words clog into his throat, creating a lump that hurts.   He can’t imagine — you, a sixteen year old, who believed you’re one of the few unfortunate who are powerless, only to have your abilities activated unexpectedly. And have your own family love you enough to forget about your entire existence. For no one to believe you when you went to the hospital, city hall, the police. For you to be lost without anyone to love.   For it to take this long for someone to recognize this terrible ability. For it to be this painful for you to try to get rid of it.   “You don’t have to feel bad,” you pipe up in the middle of the highway, breaking him from his thoughts. “It is what it is. I’m used to it. And my parents are doing well. That’s all that matters to me.”   “I’m not pitying you,” he clarifies, staring at the profile of your face. “I just….want to put myself in your shoes to get a better understanding.”   The corner of your mouth tugs and you glance at him. “I thought you weren’t supposed to become emotionally attached to your cases. Isn’t it bad to get too personal?”   Hoseok scoffs, leaning back. He admires your bravery to continue persevering so long in this kind of condition. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to do it. “I’m human. It’s natural to be compassionate.”   “You’re kind.” It’s a comment out of the blue but you mean it. A part of you was scared he wouldn’t care and it wouldn’t be a surprise considering the amount of people who saw you more as a case study than a human. “You’re very kind, Hoseok.”   “I try.” A soft laugh bubbles from his lips. “I think empaths do a better job than I do.”   “Empaths are forced to feel. They have no choice,” you muse. “Even when you don’t have that ability, what counts if that you’re trying. That’s admirable.”   A gentle smile pulls onto his features. “Are you curious on my actual ability?”   “A little.” You steal a peek at him before gripping the steering wheel tighter. “But I wouldn’t force you to share.”   “I want to. I feel like I know so much about you and your ability, but you don’t know that much about mine.” It’s a personal detail after all and you’re moved that he wants to treat you as an equal, not someone of higher authority. Hoseok’s smile grows. “It’s only fair, right?”   “Can I try guessing?” You offer and he tells you to go for it. “I don’t think you have a mental-based power. You can’t seem to read my mind and you’re not an empath either. I don’t think it’s strength-based. You don’t look like you have super strength.”   He scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”   At his pout, laughter squeezes out of you. “Can I guess…..emission category. Your smile makes the room warmer.”   “That’s….really beautiful.” He wonders why you would say something like that. But it’s meaningful, one of the highest compliments he’s received. “I wish. Unfortunately, my actual power’s a lot lamer. I’m a divine creationer. I can fabricate memories.”   “That’s not lame at all.” The blinker flickers on and you merge onto the street, getting closer to your apartment. Once you stop at a red light, you turn to look at him. “That’s amazing. It has to be better than labeled as miscellaneous, right?”   Hoseok grins. “I guess, but it’s not like I can make my own memories and at the end of the day, they’re fake.”   “I don’t think so,” you lightly refute. “I feel like it’s one thing to experience something for yourself in the moment, but the memory is what lasts. If you can make your own memories without experiencing it, then that’s limitless. You can feel like you’ve lived through anything. There would be no such thing as missed opportunities.”   “You’re right,” he softly murmurs. “I don’t use my ability a lot, but it doesn’t inhibit anything I do which I’m thankful for. I don’t think I’m in any place to complain. But I used to be really jealous of mind-readers and teleporters or people who can fly.”   “Same here.” You laugh, finding something in common with Hoseok. Your childhood was full of envy, watching other classmates discover and play with their abilities as you remained powerless. “I knew someone who could fly actually. They took me up to the sky once…”   You wistfully sigh and he grins, curious. “Really? Isn’t that illegal?”   “Don’t arrest me,” you tease. “This was a good decade ago and it wasn’t that dangerous. His name was Jungkook. We...uh...dated for a while...but I remember he carried me in his arms and yeah...it was fascinating. Really quiet up there actually. Would not recommend if you were scared of heights.”   You brush it off, but Hoseok can’t help asking, “What happened to him?”   “He ended up forgetting about me.” You’re nonchalant, looking straight ahead, but your voice is strained and your hands grip the steering wheel tighter. “And he met his soulmate. I think he’s married and has a kid now. Haven’t heard of him much after that.”   There’s silence and you break it with a small laugh before it suffocates you. “I’m glad he’s with someone who’s meant to be with him. In a sense, I bring people together.” You turn, parking the car in the lot. But as the engine dies out and you remove the keys, he doesn’t get out.   No one moves.   “You know, I don’t believe in soulmates,” Hoseok tells you quietly. “If everything was left to destiny, then no one needs to try, right? And if everything was predetermined, that means there’s no such thing as mistakes. I don’t believe in that.”   Your eyes are glossy, stirred from within. Fate. Destiny. Soulmates. All those that you’ve spoken with wished to some degree or another that such thing existed. That way, no one would have to be alone. That way, they could be comforted that someone out there was meant for them.   But that also meant you were terribly alone and it would be out of your control.   “You don’t believe in soulmates?”   “I don’t.” He shakes his head, gaze locked into yours. “I think we get to choose the people who we want to be with. We all have a choice.”   It’s moving. These are words you wished to hear. From anyone. Someone. They are comforting more than you ever thought was possible. It gives you a sense of hope that you hang onto, like a lone raft in the middle of the ocean. His voice is soothing, a lullaby. It’s reassuring.   //   It’s late at night when Hoseok’s tapping away at his keyboard relentlessly without a moment’s break. It’s near midnight, no one else on the floor of his office. The fluorescent lights are flickering above his head and it burns his eyes, giving him a throbbing headache. He takes a second to rest before downing the coffee in his thermostat.   It’s still not enough. None of it is. No matter how much effort he pours into your application, he doesn’t know if it’s good, if it’s sufficient. Your diagnosed depression and anxiety disorder is understandable — if he were in your circumstances, he’d be in constant devastation. Frankly, Hoseok’s surprised you’re still up with a job, living in society despite your ability.   But it doesn’t matter how he feels. He knows the facts. They’ve rejected people with less cause before, and he has no doubt others would be scared that your mental state would inhibit your decision making. After all, the guidelines are tough for a reason, tough for protection when they’re not protecting who they should be.   Still, Jung Hoseok tries his best to draft up a personal attached letter — strongly recommending that this case receive the request they have submitted, that the quality of life for this person would drastically improve if their ability is made obsolete. In his professional opinion and of all the cases he’s investigated, he’s never seen a case where the risk of the surgery has been more worth it.   Hoseok finishes the final draft after hours and stamps it with a special request emblem, red so that it’s seen. But he still doesn’t know if it’s enough. If any of this is enough.   “Hoseok?”    “Huh?”   “Are you alright?” He’s stopped eating, mouth hanging open to collect flies. As he catches himself, he seals his lips and sets his spoon down. “Is everything okay?”   “Sorry...I was just lost in thought.”   “Yeah, you looked like it,” you laugh.   Yet, Hoseok isn’t as bubbly as before. He’s resorted to playing with his food and after a moment, his eyes flicker up to you. “Y/N, I want to offer something to you.”   “What is it?”   “I think I can help you. And I want to.” He swallows hard, hands falling into his lap. “Let me fabricate memories for your parents.”   You sputter, choking on your food. It’s trapped in your throat and you grab your glass of water, downing half of it and then pounding your chest. “P-pardon?”   It’s too personal. Out of the scope of his job. Hoseok is becoming too emotionally invested in this case, too close, but if there’s any use for his ability, he wholeheartedly believes it’s now. “I want to try fabricating memories for your parents. They would remember that you’re their daughter and I’m sure those memories wouldn’t change or be removed by your own power.”   “I-….why?” You don’t understand why he wants to go this far to help you.   “I don’t know if your application will be received,” he delivers the news bluntly. “Your….circumstances are difficult to write on paper. And your diagnosis might work against you. I don’t know if it’ll go through.”   “Oh.”   “I’m trying my best, but I want to help you if I can. In any way possible.”   “I...I’ve already accepted this.” As much as you appreciate the gesture, you’re uncertain, unsure. “A-and….their memories would be fake.”   “But their love for you wouldn’t be. I can’t create emotions,” he tells you sincerely and it makes you nervous beyond belief. “You deserve better than this. You deserve to feel loved. It’s okay.”   The small home is silent, pins able to be heard if they were dropped on the floorboards.   Hoseok wonders why himself — why he wants to help so badly when he’s never gone this far before. He just knows it’s not because of sympathy or pity. Maybe because you remind him of himself. The constant acceptance, taking the path of least resistance, living a quiet life to not disturb others. Placating others, never fighting for yourself, for what you want, for what you believe in.   He wants to do something meaningful. He wants to fight for you.   “And if it doesn’t work?”   He smiles gently. “Then we’ll think of something else.”   It’s an old address that you barely remember. But once you’re standing in front of it, the house, the lawn, the mailbox, you realize nothing’s changed. It takes hard work and mental persuasion for you not to burst out crying. Hoseok must realize your turmoil, so he gives you a pat on the back, reassuring you before he approaches the path to the door.   The man ahead of you rings the bell and together, you listen to the parade of footsteps on the other side.   The door swings open. “Hi.” Your mom is aged, wrinkles decorated around her eyes, not recognizing you from a week ago when you helped her in the parking lot. “Can I help you?”   “Oh, we’re just wondering if you’d like to install a new air conditioning system in your house.” Hoseok makes up the lie on the spot and he’s bad — never a destined deceit manipulator. “Is your husband home?”   “Well, he is, but I don’t think we’re interested. I don’t even know if we ever use our air conditioning.” She still shouts for your father’s name over her shoulder.   Hoseok hums. “Oh, well, please contact us when you’re interested then.”   The man’s arms extend, palm open for a polite handshake. It doesn’t mean much. And your mother reaches out, shaking it without hesitation.    The moment she touches him, you watch as his eyes cloud over. Her grip becomes limp. Tension releases from her shoulders. You don’t know what’s happening, if it will work. Your breath is held in your throat but Hoseok isn’t nervous, staring at the woman before shutting his eyes in concentration.   He conjures up the fake memories — envisioning a happy day when she announced the pregnancy to her husband, a younger version of herself carrying you for nine months. Hoseok imagines how she would’ve felt like holding you for the first time, soothing you in the middle of the night as you cried, the times when you first walked, when you babbled her name.   He passes on as many childhood memories that he can possibly convey through his touch, recalling his own memories so they’re not completely groundless and baseless. Hoseok stitches together images of the first time you held her hands, the first time you entered school, when you graduated, when you got your first job, endless, endless memories….   And then he lets go.   There’s a pause.    Your mother’s eyes zone back into reality, crashing down from her trance. Her head falls to the side and her brows furrow. Most of all, her gaze is filled with recognition. “....Y/N?”   It’s the first time she’s called your name in a decade. “M-mom?”   She scoffs, looking between you and Hoseok. “What are you standing out here for? Who’s this?”   “Ummm….he-he’s a friend….selling air conditioning.” You laugh, bubbling out of you unintentionally and tears cloud your vision, clinging to your lashes as you blink. You wipe your face quickly before the tears can shed down your cheeks. It hurts that the repair of your life was so simply found but the pain was drawn out for so long. You’re relieved, overwhelmed, upset.   “Honey, who’s at the door?” Your father approaches and glances at both you and Hoseok. “Who’s this?”   “It’s nice to meet you.” Again, the man beside you extends his hand and your father shakes it out of courtesy.   The same thing occurs, strength lost, grip limp, eyes glossed over. It puts a strain on Hoseok to use his ability to such an extent, but he pushes through and tries his best through breaths staggering past gritted teeth. It’s a strain as he imagines the big events of your life, the little ones, allowing the other man to fill the spaces in between.   Hoseok fabricates the memories, drawing them out inside his own head, painting them and filling them with colour, bringing them to life. In ten seconds, he’s created a whole lifetime and he lets go.   “This is Y/N’s friend,” your mom introduces, pleasantly surprised.   “It’s a boy,” your father comments, eyes sweeping at his figure up and down, sizing the man up.   They act as if it’s always been like this — you, their precious daughter, a constant in the lives that they feel the need to protect. You’re emotional, hands shaking, knees weak. And you push past Hoseok, running up to the pair of them and engulfing them in an embrace. You hold them as close as you can, nearly sobbing into their shoulder. “W-what’s going on?”   Your mother laughs awkwardly while your father is as stiff as a stick. “What are you doing?”   “I love you,” you repeat in a broken whisper. It’s been years since they’ve last recognized you as their daughter. You’re no longer ostracized from your family, an outsider against your own will. They know who you are and they love you — your love is no longer a weapon used against yourself.   Your father calls you by your name seconds later, confused, and you let go. They don’t know what’s going on, befuddlement etched on their expressions, wondering if you did something wrong and now you’re trying to butter them up, but it’s nothing of that sort.   “Well….I’ll go get refreshments for your friend.” Your mother brushes off your odd behaviour when she finds Hoseok still awkwardly lingering at the front door step. She returns his kind smile and goes off into the kitchen.   Your father, on the other hand, steps away from you and grunts, remembering the stranger in his presence. “You have a job, boy?”   “It’s um….a government job.”   “Good pay?”   “Dad,” you whisper, but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. “C-can you give us a moment?”    His eyes narrow onto Hoseok, but he reluctantly walks away and you wait until you hear your parents talking in the kitchen, mother chiding him for being so stern. Your mind is still unable to wrap around it. It’s surreal and you’re about to have an emotional breakdown, overwhelmed that the people who saw you as a stranger finally recognized who you really were.   You can still remember the morning where the tide turned and you woke up with them shaking you, not knowing who you were, throwing you out and believing you were sick when you said they were your parents.    “I...I don’t know h-how to thank….I….”   “Don’t.” He smiles. “You don’t need to. I’m supposed to help, right? Just doing my job.”   “No. This is….way more than that….” He knows it too.   “I should go.” Hoseok turns reluctantly, hitching a thumb over to the road. It’s not what he particularly wants, but what he knows he should do. “Let you have some time to catch up. I’ll see you soon….the application is almost done...so….”   “You should stay,” you insist, not wanting him to go so soon. “F-for dinner, I mean….d-do you want to have some dinner?”   “No, I’m okay.” He grins and quips, “I’ll go have some lasagna instead.”   Hoseok ends up bidding you farewell, giving a wave when he’s standing by his car and you watch as he drives off. But when he’s gone, you’re not left in quietness on your lonesome. The warm laughter of your family fills the space behind you.    It was Hoseok that had given that back to you.   //   While the night is still young and you’re off surrounded by family in the warmth of your home, Hoseok sits alone at the desk inside his apartment. He spins around in his swivel chair, staring at the ceiling, reliving the moments of today inside his mind — playing back the memories like they’re tapes, recalling the way you looked at him, the way you smiled as he stood at the doorstep.    He sharply inhales, forcibly wrenching himself from remembering and he shakes off the emotion that’s been placed at his feet. Instead, the man composes himself and reaches for papers in his drawer, taking a pen inside the cup he has in the corner.   And Hoseok begins to write. Journal entries, scribbles, anything that comes to mind. He writes all he can remember, the first time he ever had an encounter with you to the little quirks he’s noticed in his days of observation. He writes papers upon papers, afraid that he’ll forget.   Afraid that one day, he won’t remember this anymore.   //   “I’ve sent the paperwork off. Everything looks good.”   He tells you the news over coffee instead of being in the quietness of his office. This is one of the last times Hoseok might ever see you again — his job is finished. He can’t go any further than he already has and knowing such, he savours the moment. “I’m glad.”   “It was nice to meet you.” The man tries his best to remain professional, but he slips, showing his faults when he becomes too sincere, “I...hope things work out for you, Y/N. You deserve it.”   “Thank you...for everything that you’ve done for me. Helping me with these documents, trying to understand where I’m coming from...um...and helping with my parents. I don’t...I just don’t know how I can ever repay you.”   “Don’t.” Hoseok grins, coffee cup warm in his hand as he stares at you. “I don’t do things to be repaid.”   “Let me at least take you out for dinner,” you offer after spending nights brewing over it. You don’t know how you could ever express your gratitude or pay back this debt you owe, but this is the only thing you thought of. “It’s the least I can do. I haven’t offered you a real meal when you stayed with me, and I want to thank you.”   “I...ummm...don’t really go out with any of my clients.” It’s definitely strange, but deep down a part of him wants it too. Hoseok reminds himself that it’s over — his part is done. It’s okay to see you again. “But I’ll make an exception this time.”   You smile. “I promise I’ll make your time worthwhile.”   He scoffs, leaning forward over the table, closer to you with mischief glimmering in his eyes. “You better or I’ll charge you for my time.”   It’s a simple dinner, a place he picked that’s rather modest and intimate. You order a soup and he orders noodles and you chat while waiting, while eating. For the first time, his questions aren’t asked to answer forms he has to fill out later. Conversations aren’t about his work or your ability. Nothing like that at all.    The two of you speak about childhood memories, where you grew up, where he grew up, exchanging similar school stories before ranting about kid shows you used to watch and celebrity scandals that those actors ended up getting in. It’s fairly mundane, ridiculous even, but easy. It’s easy to talk to him, comfortable, and you aren’t nervous like the first time when you sat across from his desk.   The food ends up being cold, but none of you mind over some heated conversations on the topic of how plausible Spider-Man's abilities are in real life. The debate aside, the outing goes well.   Before you know it, it’s ended and he’s walking you down the street, hands deep in his pants pocket, steps synced to yours.   “I..uh parked here.”   “I parked over there.”   “Oh.” You laugh, the coldness nipping at your nose and making spoken words into clouds of condensation. “What a coincidence. I..um...guess this is goodbye then.”   “Yeah.” For a few seconds, Hoseok’s eyes flicker down to your lips. His skin is glowing underneath the lamppost’s yellow light and you notice how the pink of his tongue peeks out to wet the chapped corners of his mouth. But instinctively, you step back, refusing to kiss him — for his sake, more than yours.   Hoseok must notice your apprehension since he quickly focuses back onto your eyes again, swallowing hard as apologies clog his throat, never coming out. He takes a deep breath to compose himself and says, “I-I’d love to see you again.”   “What?”   “I don’t know about you, but I had a really good time tonight.” His fists curl and he desperately wishes he had some liquid courage. But he grabs at the chance anyhow before it passes through his fingertips. In the past two weeks, he’s gotten to know you well and he likes you a lot. “And...and I’d love to see you again some time. If you want to.”   “I….” You’d like that, very much. Except— “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m not in a position where I can have a relationship.”   Your abilities prevent you from getting close to anyone and it’s the responsible thing to distance yourself from others before you end up getting hurt. But you’re beginning to feel particularly reckless and you don’t want him to leave.    You want to see him again.   “As friends,” Hoseok adds on quickly. “We can see each other as friends, right?” It’s a lie. He’s not a destined deceit manipulator and he knows for a fact he can’t just be your friend, but Hoseok doesn’t want to fabricate memories with you. He doesn’t want to daydream and wonder ‘what if’ tomorrow or in the next ten years. He wants things to be real with you. He wants to have the experience, to be in the present, even if the memories don’t last.   You’re conflicted.   The man who stands in front of you on this cold night is dangerous. You don’t know if you can take the leap, bear to be hurt again, muster up enough courage. But as he gazes at you in a way you’ve never known before, you step forward.   “Okay.” It’s a soft whisper that means everything and a smile tickles its way onto your face. “But you better make my time worthwhile, Hoseok. Or I’ll charge you for my time.”   A grin spreads into his cheeks and he has to resist the urge of cheering. “I promise I’ll make it worthwhile.”   //   Accepting Hoseok’s one request turns to two, three, four. A simple dinner and movie becomes long walks in the parks and afternoon picnics, conversations shared between glasses of wine or in the car driving to somewhere. You end up sharing breakfast, brunch, dinner with him, holding hands while window shopping, going out for ice-cream before ending up at your house again, this time with him laying on your bed.   It’s wrong. Guilt, fear, terror boils in the pit of your stomach, but he somehow makes them silent in his presence. You can’t bear to end things, so you hope for the best, that the application will go through quicker and someone out there can help remove this ability from you before it’s too late.   Before Hoseok succumbs to your curse.   But your wish takes its time, just like all the years before. And in the meanwhile, time spent with Hoseok makes days fly, years short. He squirms his way closer to you without warrant, flashing grins and smiles, telling you not to worry. He knows what you’re afraid of and he assures you nothing will happen.    It doesn’t work. He doesn’t have the gift of persuasion or of speaking honey words that could hypnotize you. The more comfortable you become with him, the more terrified you are.   What begins as casual starts to become too serious. You try to not let him close, but the effort proves futile. It’s wrong. Wrong to be with him. Wrong that you could ever be with someone. Wrong that to let this happen when you knew better. All of it is wrong and goes against what you’re allowed.   And the fear eventually boils over.    Only, it happens on a Tuesday evening. During the first argument.   “—I mean, would it kill you to at least rinse the plates?” you’re muttering at the sink, scrubbing furiously at the dishes and a sauce stain that won’t come off for some ungodly reason.   Hoseok scoffs. “I did.”   “Obviously not well enough.”   “Why don’t you just move over and let me wash.” He joins your side and the way he offers to do it isn’t because of a good heart, but made from annoyance at how you’re irritated. It’s a cycle that both refuse to break because of stubbornness.    “You don’t wash them right.”   You’re done anyways, piling the dishes on top of the rack to let them dry. He’s unimpressed. “There’s a right way to wash them?”   “Yes.” Your tone is curt and it’s humiliating how childish and dumb this fight is. You can’t back down for the sake of your embarrassment. “You just have to make them clean. Just cause they’re my dishes doesn’t mean you can just half-ass it.”   “I don’t half-ass it,” he defends, pitch lifting.   “Then why are your dishes at your place always cleaner than mine?” The tap is turned off and you turn to him with hands on your hips. This was definitely the stupidest thing the two of you have gotten mad about.   “Then maybe we should just share the same dishes!”   “How are we supposed to share the same dishes, Jung Hoseok?!”   “Move in with me!”    He shouts it suddenly, but not exactly impulsively. It’s as if he’s been thinking about it for a while now, considering it carefully and looking for a time to say it to you. The time isn’t perfect now — not at all close to how he imagined bringing it up, but the pair of you have never had time on your side after all.   Hoseok’s heaving his breaths, catching up on breathing and you’re reeling, brows lifted, confused. Your voice is soft like he just personally attacked you, and in a way he did. You’re not hurt or damaged, just….caught off guard.   “W-why would I do that?”   He realized it now, standing in the kitchen with you, at both your ugliest, fighting about dishwashing. He doesn’t walk away. Neither do you. And Hoseok realizes he wouldn’t want to be with anyone else doing this, that if the rest of his life is filled with this stupid shit, he wouldn’t mind at all.    As long as he’s here with you.   “Because I—”   “No!” You rush in urgency, pettiness escaping you. The dumb fight is forgotten in an instant and you can’t bear it. The words have caught in your throat, stuck and causing a thick lump that makes it hard to swallow. You know what he’s about to say and you don’t want to hear it. “Don’t fucking say it, Jung Hoseok. Don’t you dare.”   He whispers your name, pleading with you and trying to get your attention. He has to.   You step forward, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, head slumped. “Please, Hoseok,” you beg him. “Don’t say it. Don’t tell me.”   A secure hand curls around your wrist, an arm wrapping around your waist. His head falls onto your shoulder. “Nothing will happen.”   “It’ll happen,” you sob out. “It’ll happen, so don’t. Please. I don’t want to hear it.”   “I have to.” He holds you tighter, grip full of unspoken apologies.    “No, no, you don’t.” You’re crying pathetically, voice cracking unpleasantly, tears shedding down your face and falling onto the floor as if it’s raining.   “I can’t change how I feel about you,” he whispers with a ghost of a smile on his lips, pressing it right on the juncture of your neck. “I can’t hide it, so I might as well say it out loud, right?”   “N-no...please…”   “I want to tell you before it’s too late.”   “Hoseok—”   “I love you.”   He declares it boldly and without hesitation, wearing a soft smile tinged with sadness. Sobs break out of your throat and you tremble in his grasps. Hoseok holds your face in his hands, making you look at him past your blurry vision and he repeats it with conviction, “I’m in love with you.”   You hug him, holding on like you’re an anchor, afraid he’s going to float away. You’re unable to say anything or choke out a coherent syllable, so he leans in to kiss you, dying to do so after the first date.   Hoseok tilts his head and when his mouth meets yours, it’s soft, though not entirely sweet. Your salty tears linger, his touch bitter to you, but he remains gentle, gingerly kissing your lips over and over again with staggering exhales of regret stolen from the seam of his mouth. Hoseok soaks in your expression with half-lidded eyes before he shuts them, relishing in the feeling alone.   This is what you were so apprehensive about. It’s your worst nightmare. And when it’s over, you’re left with heartache.   Hoseok leans his forehead against yours and he promises something he can’t, “I’ll remember you again and I’ll fall in love with you again. Over and over. As many times as we need.”    You embrace him close, but it doesn’t matter if he’s an arm’s length away or pressed against your body. He’s leaving, body here but mind not. He’s confident that he won’t forget, blindly so, believing in the letters he’s written about you, journal entries, pictures, that you’re here with him.   He’s wrong.   Once he’s fallen asleep against his will, giving in to the heavy seduction of slumber, you slip away from his grasps, grabbing clothes to cover your naked skin and you leave your own home.   You can’t bear to stay and watch as confusion takes over his face, wondering who you are, why he’s in a stranger’s home. Once he takes the traces of himself out of your place in the morning, you’ll be left solely with his scent clinging to the bed sheets and your own quiet mind.   And as you had imagined, when Hoseok awakes hours later, he is bewildered.   The home is empty and he picks himself up slowly off the bed, clothing himself, calling out to no one. He is utterly confused and glances at the picture frames on shelves, photographs of a woman he doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand, clutching his own head and deducts that this was a one night stand.   Whoever you are, it was a one night stand, a reckless mistake he made while drunk.   His memory is void.   All the dark ink of the letters and entries he’s written about fades into the paper, becoming invisible. The pictures snapped of you and him together erases you until he’s alone in the frame. Every effort made vanishes. It’s wiped away from his brain. He doesn’t know your name.   While Hoseok can fabricate memories, his own are ripped away from him.   But he cannot even mourn for such a tragic irony. He simply digs his feet in his shoes that are placed near the entrance in a neat fashion. He digs his hands into his pants pocket. He leaves.   And just like that, Jung Hoseok is gone from your life.

[Epilogue]   There’s something important on his mind that he can’t quite pinpoint.   Hoseok feels like he’s forgetting something very important. It’s one of those things that he recalls his past self told his future self that he definitely needs to remember. But it isn’t an errand he needs to run or something he has to pick up from the grocery store, he knows that much.   Still, it’s on the tip of his tongue, the edge of his mind and it drives him crazy.   Hoseok doesn’t know what it is and he can’t dispel this discomfort from his chest.   “Umm...excuse me.” There’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns to find a pretty girl with sparkling, brown eyes smiling brightly at him. “I think it’s your turn.”   “O-oh…” He follows to where she’s pointing and rushes forward to the counter where the worker is waiting patiently. Hoseok makes his coffee order and walks over to the other station while his drink is being made. The girl from behind him also makes her own order and then comes over. He burns in embarrassment and for some reasons out of instinct, he strikes up a conversation instead of brushing it off. “S-sorry about that.”   The female giggles. “It’s no problem.” She looks away and then steals a glance at him. “I don’t blame you. Monday mornings can be tiring and sometimes I forget where I am.”   “Yeah.” He releases a long exhale, smiling. “I was just really lost in thought. Hopefully the coffee will help.”   “It probably will. It always does.”   He nods and before the conversation can die off, he asks, “Do you come here a lot?”   “Sometimes.” She fiddles with the fabric of her floral dress that hugs her frame. Hoseok feels nervous in her presence and he’s certain he’s never felt this way before, but the emotion isn’t foreign to him. He’s not sure why. “Actually, I don’t know why I went to this one today. I just got a feeling that I should. Usually, I go to the one on fifth avenue.”   “Oh. Is fifth avenue’s coffee shop better?”   She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think it depends on the person.”   Hoseok swallows hard and goes in for the kill. “I should check it out then. I’ve never been. But I wouldn’t really know what’s good to order. I think I would need someone...to join me…”   The girl blinks and laughter bubbles up her throat — it’s pleasant to the ears. “Are you suggesting that I be the one to join you?”   He shrugs, playing it casual. “If you want, I’d love to take you out for coffee some time.”   She lightly scoffs, smile still spread into her rosy cheeks. “Just because you’re so smooth, I’ll agree. But I don’t even know your name.”   “Jung Hoseok.” He extends his hand and she shakes it.   “Seo Soojin.” The woman grins and his chest feels a flutter. “It’s nice to meet you.”   His smile expands. “Likewise.”   //   Jung Hoseok’s met his soulmate. He’s confident in it.   While he doesn’t even believe in the concept of a kindred soul, his mind is consistently boggled over this girl. How easily she fits into his life. How much she matches him, compliments his personality, makes up for what he lacks. She is a puzzle piece, fitting right into his life like she was always meant to be there.   She loves to help people as much as he does. She gardens in her spare time, a hobby that she adores and she eventually teaches him how to keep flower bushes alive. Soojin is bright and beautiful, chirpy and cute, reminding him of sunshine itself. She is everything he could want.   A date turns to two, three, four. He’s happy and he thinks he’s never felt like this before.   Yet, something feels missing.    “Hoseok?”   “Hmmm?”   “Are you okay?” she asks over a candle light dinner, restaurant filled with murmurs from patrons around them. Hoseok lifts his face to find her frowning in concern, having gone quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time.    “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. Was just thinking about something else.”   He’s holding himself back. It doesn’t feel right. It feels—   It feels wrong.   Hoseok’s uncomfortable and his instincts make him lean away from her touch, makes him keep her at a distance. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, why he’s acting like this when the perfect girl is in front of him.   “Jung, you there?” His boss is at the door, leaning on the frame, interrupting his stream of thoughts. “Boy, you look tired.”   “Yeah, I’m sorry.” He leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose to get a grip of himself before he gets fired.   “Well, just wanted to tell you that case number six four three seven is moving ahead. They were going to throw out the application, but your special request letter ended up changing some minds up there. It’s usually not your style to be anything other than professional. But even I gotta admit it was pretty touching. You’ve never personally vouched for anyone so that was a surprise.” The older man shrugs. “I know it was a special case to you, so I thought I’d let you know.”   “W-what?”   Hoseok is more confused than before. He has no idea what the man is talking about.   He searches through his computer. Nothing. There aren’t any files on this case number. He’s baffled and ends up dropping his knees, fingertips running through the files in his file cabinet.    There’s no paperwork whatsoever in his belongings.   Hoseok becomes fixated on the issue, obsessed. It’s like he’s an inch away from scratching an itch on his back that’s been driving him to the brink of insanity. And he is compelled by a sixth sense to spend a late night at the office, skipping dinner out on his girlfriend and sending a delayed text message as an apology. He leaves his office to the main floor, going to the very back in the room of cabinets where they keep copies of everything. Hoseok files through the numbers until there’s white paper coating the carpeted floor. He pulls everything out that he can.   It bothers him. Bewitched him.   He needs to know what’s going on.   And after hours of drowning in the sea of paperwork, he finds the file folder with the correct string of numbers. Euphoria fills his body as he holds it and he doesn’t waste time to flip it open. Hoseok finds your application, the report he filled out, the letter he wrote attached to it — he doesn’t understand.   He didn’t write this.   He doesn’t remember doing this.   But these are his words, his writing, his signature marked at the bottom.   “Are you alright, Seok?”   It lingers on his mind and he’s only shocked out of it when Soojin hugs him from behind when he’s at the sink, washing the dishes. Her arms wrap around his abdomen, tight, scared at how distant he feels. It gives him a sense of déjà vu, but it still feels wrong. Wrong. Wrong!   He pulls her off of him.   Hoseok shuffles away in discomfort, escaping from her grasps and wandering hands. “I’m….fine. You should go to bed,” he mumbles. “Didn’t you say you were sleepy?”   His girlfriend ends up walking away in silence, hurt. He doesn’t know what’s going on.   This is his soulmate. There’s nothing he can complain about, no faults in her at all that he can nitpick. She’s perfect for him, a flawless couple that makes others ooze of envy. But he’s the sole cause of the rift between them. Hoseok is self-sabotaging his relationship. And he doesn’t know why.   “We haven’t had a date in so long,” she is curt, angry and he feels guilt overwhelm him when he realizes he made her this way. “We’re going to the movies this weekend.”   “I’m busy—”    “No but’s, Hoseok.” Soojin is done and walks away, forcing him to begrudgingly oblige.    It happens on a Tuesday evening.   The sun is falling from the horizon, painting the world in golden hues. His eyes are bleary, muscles aching from the long day of work, and yet he has to drag his legs forward. Soojin is stomping ahead of him, steps heavy, marching straight ahead with a frown.   He lags behind her with his hands deep in his pockets, sighing.   But something catches in his peripheral vision.   It’s a flutter of someone's skirt, their hair brushing in the wind, a sweet scent that he used to know wafting over to overwhelm his senses. It’s someone familiar. And his heart stings. His head whips away from the front and he looks over, eyes locking with this person’s.   You’re standing across the street.   Feet rooted in the ground. Shock. Fear. Relief. Longing. And above all, a sorrowful regret etched on your beautiful features that takes Hoseok’s breath away. He knows you from somewhere, though he can’t pinpoint it. Maybe at some point you had sat across his desk from him nervously fiddling with your fingers in your lap, maybe he had sat across from you at a restaurant table….maybe this….maybe that….   All Hoseok is certain about is that he can’t move away.   You can’t either, staring, watching, frozen in time as people pass by on the street towards their homes. Hoseok softly gazes at you, the way the golden dusk light makes you shine somehow.   He can’t look anywhere else.   It takes ten seconds before Soojin realizes he’s no longer following her and she turns around on her heels. “Hoseok! What are you doing?!” But he ignores her. He can’t hear her whatsoever.    It’s instinct that takes over Hoseok, making him cross that street. He takes a step forward.   And like he promised, he doesn’t need his memories.

All across Asia, and around the world, people have been urged to keep a safe distance and maintain good personal hygiene amid the coronavirus pandemic. But if your “home” is a prison dormitory that holds five times the 100 inmates it was designed to, doing either is almost impossible.Overcrowding is the norm in the prison systems of many developing nations, but the Philippines has long held the dubious distinction of having one of the most jam-packed in the world.

In Manila City Jail, one of an estimated 933 correctional facilities in the country, sweaty bodies lie in cells, toilets, stairways and other poorly ventilated areas, as inmates try to grab some sleep wherever they can. Some even have to take turns.

Poor living conditions – such as the subdivided units or caged homes that impoverished Hongkongers live in, packed migrant workers’ quarters in cities across Southeast Asia and slums with no running water – are traditionally fertile ground for disease transmission.

But with Asia’s largest prison systems plagued by low health care standards and a limited ability to test inmates, experts say any outbreak is likely to be deadlier than in the general population. Already, the suspension of prison visits to prevent the virus from spreading has taken a toll on the mental well-being of inmates.

Field workers and researchers interviewed by This Week in Asia say now is as good a time as ever for the authorities to reduce prison populations and consider initiatives to reform justice systems, while channelling more funds into rehabilitation and health programmes for inmates.

“I actually think things are in dire straits,” said Clarke Jones, criminologist and senior research fellow at the Australian National University. “Prisons and jails [in Southeast Asia] have become so neglected and overcrowded that it will be near impossible to manage if Covid-19 takes a real hold.”

Jones said official records were not transparent and publicly available information on jails was limited.

“There have been many deaths but they are kept secret, not recorded, and [the bodies are] cremated soon after death,” he said. “I don’t think we will ever know the true infection and fatality rates … due to corruption, lack of reporting, and lack of any health care.”

The problem of overcrowding is compounded by chronic underfunding and a general lack of resources. Across Metro Manila’s 47 jails, for instance, “one single doctor is responsible … for a staggering 45,000 inmates”, according to Tobias Brandner, a prison chaplain and professor at the Chinese University of Hong Kong who wrote a research paper on the subject last year.

“Around HK$550 (US$71) per inmate per year is budgeted for medical needs,” he wrote, adding that for food “less than HK$10 (US$1.29) is available per inmate per day”.

“Not surprisingly, most of the visitors in the entrance area of the [Manila City Jail] wait with large food containers for their relatives behind bars,” Brandner said.

A lack of food further increases the prison population’s vulnerability to a coronavirus outbreak, as malnutrition compromises the immune system.

The fact that “most people who are incarcerated in Asia are young, between 15 and 30 years old … is a good thing” when it comes to Covid-19, said Ziad Tohme, a former doctor who works with the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC).

Amid rising concerns about the psychological health of prison inmates cut off from the outside world is the well-being of one group – pregnant prisoners and the 19,000 or so children who live with their mothers behind bars around the world.

“The anxiety and stress created by not being able to communicate with family members or seek mental health support are of significant concern for vulnerable women who have often experienced traumatic violence,” Rope said.

She added that ongoing assessments of the pandemic’s impact on women prisoners showed that those in some areas had it better than others.

“For example, in Kenya where women rely on charities and family members for sanitary pads, they have had a shortage of these vital supplies because such visits are now banned,” she said. “We also know that women are greatly impacted by separation from their children and, at a time like this, it is of huge concern.”

Fear of the pandemic among prisoners has led in recent weeks to several violent riots in detention facilities, such as in Indonesia.

“Inmates are under huge pressure,” said Brandner, the professor, noting that violence could erupt in other prisons. “They are as fearful as everyone else, but they are cramped together, they don’t have anywhere else to go and now they can’t receive regular visits.”

Brandner said that in places like the Philippines, the pandemic was creating “an imbalance in the ecosystems of some prisons”.

Religious groups would often go in and offer food, personal hygiene items and free medical consultations, as well as spiritual and practical advice to mitigate prison hardships – but most of this has stopped.

“It has a great impact on the psychological, material and spiritual well-being of the inmates,” Brandner said. “This isolation is a high price to pay.”

But inmates have not been left completely in the lurch. The ICRC has donated dozens of tablet devices for prisoners in the Philippines to use to call their relatives.

In the Manila City Jail – on the country’s largest island of Luzon where a lockdown has been imposed – visits have stopped but personnel have remained inside the jail, as part of a “carefully worked out and documented strategy to prevent the entry of Covid-19”, said Jones, the criminologist, who recently spoke with the warden there. The facility had not recorded any infections as of end-April.

“Morale is high due to the psychosocial programme they are running for personnel and inmates alike,” he said, adding that a Skype room was set up for inmates to stay in contact with loved ones.

“There are no security issues or unrest as the inmates are kept well informed and consulted on most management issues.”

Official data shows that the Philippines’ prison system is running at about 500 per cent over capacity. As of March, there were 134,748 detainees in the country – a number that has ballooned in recent years largely due to the government’s bloody anti-drugs crackdown.

More than 300 of the country’s prisoners have been diagnosed with Covid-19 – most of whom are housed in detention facilities on the island of Cebu. At least four have died.

But detainees are reporting higher death rates, according to Human Rights Watch, whose deputy Asia director Phil Robertson said “unreported deaths of inmates show the urgent need for the Duterte government to be transparent about the spread of Covid-19 inside the country’s overcrowded prisons”.

In response to the pandemic, Filipino authorities recently released about 10,000 inmates, including some who were serving sentences of six months or less, those being held ahead of trial who could not afford bail, and certain sick and elderly prisoners.

Harry Tubangi, health-in-detention programme manager for the ICRC who is based in the Philippines, noted that the crisis presented uncharted territory for the authorities.

He said his organisation had helped set up five Covid-19 isolation centres for prisoners with more than 500 beds in total, but the length of time waiting for test results – sometimes “more than a week or two weeks” – had made things challenging.

“First thing is to identify suspected cases and isolate them, and then be able to test them and determine the level of severity,” he said. “You also have to sort out patients who have Covid-19 from those who have other infectious diseases, such as tuberculosis.”

Thousands of inmates in Philippine prisons are thought to die of infectious diseases every year.

In total, the country has officially recorded more than 10,000 coronavirus cases and upwards of 650 deaths – numbers that are only expected to rise as it struggles to bring the outbreak under control.

The country is not alone in having prisons that are poised to become a flashpoint for the virus.

In Pakistan, where more than 22,000 infections have been confirmed, about 100 prisoners had tested positive as of April 21 – but the authorities there are only testing inmates who show symptoms, according to Ali Haider Habib of advocacy group Justice Project Pakistan.

Even though prison visits have been suspended, Habib said there had still been a large influx of inmates – about 500 new prisoners a day in some facilities.

“With such a massive churn rate and with prison staff going in and out, Pakistan’s prisons could be on the verge of a serious outbreak if a preventive strategy and contingency plans are not implemented effectively,” he said.

There were many vulnerable detainees in Pakistan, Habib said, with some of the most at risk being the elderly and those with pre-existing medical conditions.

About 2,400 inmates were already infected with other diseases and viruses such as HIV, while 600 or so had a mental illness – putting them “at particular risk because they are not always able to understand and follow instructions or maintain personal hygiene”, Habib said, citing the Covid-19 deaths that were reported after an outbreak in two psychiatric wards in South Korea.

As well as reducing Pakistan’s prison population, Habib called on the authorities to take other “emergency measures”, such as ramping up testing capacity for both prisoners and staff “and ensuring adequate medical facilities along with the presence of doctors and health care professionals”.

In neighbouring India, prisons were placed under lockdown and thousands of pretrial detainees released on parole after the authorities discovered the virus had begun to spread through the country’s correctional facilities.

It is unclear how many Indian inmates have caught Covid-19, but 19 detainees of Madhya Pradesh state’s Indore Central Jail and 77 inmates at Arthur Road jail in Mumbai tested positive last week.

Madhurima Dhanuka, lawyer and head of the Prison Reforms Programme for the Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative, told the Associated Press measures needed to be taken soon in India or things would “become extremely difficult”.

“It is a terrifying situation,” she said.

Last month, Indonesia announced that about 30,000 inmates were expected to be released to curb the spread of infection inside correctional facilities. Myanmar also said that about 25,000 people would be freed unconditionally, while Iran granted more than 85,000 people a temporary release and told them to await further instructions.In Thailand, where a group of inmates escaped after rumours of a coronavirus outbreak, jail sentences for 8,000 inmates have been suspended.

Kittipong Kittiyarak, executive director of the Thailand Institute of Justice, said the authorities should consider implementing alternatives to imprisonment as well as ordering a temporary or early release for vulnerable groups and those with non-violent, minor offences.

But even this would not be enough to avoid “catastrophic consequences” in the midst of this pandemic and any similar future crises, he said.

“The virus has brought to the foreground systemic problems that have existed in criminal justice policies for decades, and that is the overutilisation of incarceration as the primary form of sentencing,” he said.

“Especially in this part of the world, punitive drug policies have led to a sharp rise in the number of prisoners.”

In Australia, a group of more than 370 lawyers, academics and advocates signed an open letter urging the authorities to release prisoners, or at least consider the possibility of doing so.

The country’s most populous state of New South Wales had taken steps to pass emergency legislation allowing the government to release selected prisoners early, said Lorana Bartels, a criminology professor at Australian National University who co-authored the open letter.

But no releases have yet happened and “overall, the response has been to focus on measures such as increased hygiene, isolation and distancing, rather than using this as an opportunity to review the operation of the criminal justice system more broadly”, she said.

The pressure on Australia’s prisons was only likely to increase, Bartels warned, given legislation that may not allow those accused of transgressions considered particularly offensive in a pandemic to be released on bail.

While Australia had been relatively successful at minimising community spread of the coronavirus, which had helped prevent major prison outbreaks like the ones seen in the United States and elsewhere, Bartels said she was disappointed at limited moves made to address the penal system’s underlying issues.

Among these are the “over-representation of indigenous people [and] people with poor physical and mental health”.

She said she was among those calling for “justice reinvestment” – or diverting the significant amounts of funding allocated to prisons in Australia to “evidence-based community projects that address the underlying causes of crime”.

According to the latest Penal Reform International report, the majority of people in prison around the world come from disadvantaged backgrounds and are likely to have a history of abuse and neglect.

Brandner, the prison chaplain and professor who also advocates for reducing global prisoner numbers, said that the Philippines’ judicial system needed to be reformed.

“People spend a very long time in detention without being sentenced,” he said.

“Also, more people could serve their sentences in the community instead of being incarcerated.”

Jones, the criminologist, agreed, saying it was difficult to reform a country’s correctional system without a wider change in its judicial system.

“Corruption plagues most systems in developing countries, so most of the money going into rehabilitation or health care gets siphoned off to correctional personnel,” he said.

“Many facilities don’t want to reduce congestion levels as they will lose out on the food budgets, and therefore won’t get money in their back pockets.”

In some cases, Jones said, it was prison gangs – rather than the authorities – who provide inmates with health care and rehabilitation using their own resources.

Tohme, the ICRC expert, said that countries tended to see prisoners as a financial burden, with many among the general populace disconnected from life inside detention facilities.

“But everyone is at risk of being detained. You can drive your car and run over someone,” he said. “Health care in detention is a human right and a public health issue.”

Or How to Survive School with Learning Difficulties

I recently got officially diagnosed with a significant specific learning difficulty (SpLD) in the area of mathematics or Dyscalculia after years of struggling with the most basic parts of mathematics, and I felt this was a suitable topic for a studyblr post.

My numeracy and maths fluency (addition) on the WIAT III both were in the 2nd percentile (Meaning I scored lower than 98% of people), and the highest percentile on any of the maths subtests was my problem solving, coming in at the 18th percentile, which is still disastrously low

And yet despite of all this, I’m currently in IB Higher Level maths, and actually doing somewhat alright, and I had to be pretty good at maths in school throughout the years in order to allow this to fly under the radar for so long, so how did I do it?

Showing. Every. Single. Step. Of. Your. Work. 

I know for a lot of people it seems like just a waste of time to show everything you do, especially if it’s something supposedly as simple as “2-1″ when you could just write “1″ right away, but if you’re like me... it’s not as simple as that and as it gets to more and more complex “basic” bits your likelihood of messing it up is higher.

I can’t speak for any other curriculum but in the IB the majority of your marks in maths come not from the answer itself but the working, even if your answer is completely wrong if you’ve shown every step of your work you will get the majority of the marks, but sometimes they will only award the marks if they see where you went wrong, and if it’s not clear why you might’ve messed up you could lose a mark.

Proofread, proofread, go over your work, proofread

Whether it’s an essay, a lab report, or an exam, always proofread and check everything over again n again. You can never be too safe.

Your calculator is your best friend

You know all those memes that have a picture of a calculator with 1+1=2 and a caption like “just to be sure”, yea that’s been my entire life. The majority of my maths tests in IBMYP were with a calculator, and that’s a huge part of how I managed to actually be one of the star students, it wasn’t until the last year or so of MYP and then this past year of DP that I started struggling because things became non-calculator, and that’s how my dyscalculia finally got picked up on, and I’ve got accommodations now (which I will go over in the next section) that will help with that.

But when it comes to calculator exams like DP paper twos, you get your graphing calculator, and even for people who are great at mental maths, your calculator should still be your best friend because it saves so much time, and if your calculator can do something for you, don’t waste the time doing it by hand.

You need to graph a function? Put it in the calculator and use that as a reference. You need to solve an equation? Graph it. You’ve got an integral or some other long calculation needs doing? Don’t bother to simplify it heaps to do it on paper, just type it in.

Your graphing calculator saves you time and provided you type everything in properly your answer will be difficult to get wrong, just make sure you show some sort of “working” on your paper. If you graphed something to solve it, do a quick sketch with basic labels to how you got your answer paired with “GDC” written somewhere in the corner. Whatever you type into your calculator, make sure that’s written somewhere on your paper (and whatever steps you had to take to get to that point).

Access Arrangements (Accommodations)

If you have a diagnosed learning difficult or any other condition that may affect your performance (This includes stuff like ADHD and Autism and even most mental illnesses), you may be entitled to inclusive assessment arrangements, different schools will have different processes for different things but most school/exam boards, from the IBO to APs and the US college board, to AQA and Edexcel and all other GCSE/A Level exam boards have systems in place for inclusive assessment arrangements.

Whilst schools are supposed to have processes themselves in place so that you don’t have to be the one looking at all this, sometimes you have to be the one to self advocate. Remember that these arrangements exist for people who need them, not just because you want an extra advantage, do not abuse them if you don’t need them. If you’re doing IB your school’s IB coordinator is the one who has to submit the applications for any arrangements requiring authorisation, most schools will also have a dedicated special education or learning diversity team for these processes, approach any people involved about these arrangements if you believe you do need them.

I don’t know much about other systems but it should be fairly easy to locate information online (If you can’t, feel free to HMU and I might be able to help you with my googling prowess) but click here for IBO’s document detailing the possible arrangements and requirements to receive those arrangements

The most common arrangements that people get however are:

Separate exam venue, you don’t actually need authorisation from your exam board in order to receive this, your school may require certain things like a diagnosis or evidence that you would be better suited for it than others to consider it but ultimately this is usually one of the easiest accommodations to get. Additionally, or by itself, if you have difficulties with noise/your surroundings, even if you’re in the main exam venue you should be able to wear noise reduction earmuffs (they mustn’t have any sort of audio capability or electronic function, think construction earmuffs) and/or have mini “walls” placed around you on your desk to block external viewing.

Rest periods, similar to separate exam venues you don’t typically need authorisation for this either, in fact all students (at least in the IB) are technically entitled to a certain amount of break time per hour (for the IB it’s ten minutes per hour), your school may already provide all students with this option or it may reserve it only for people who’ve asked in advance, if you feel you’d need it, ask about it. It’s also possible to apply for additional rest period time if you need it but that does require some form of diagnosis or doctor’s note giving proper reasoning why and depends on exam board/school/why you want/need it.

Extra time, now this you need authorisation for pretty much no matter how much it is BUT the requirements are fairly lenient, with the IB as well as most other boards (I believe) you can easily get 10-25% extra time for the majority of conditions provided it can be shown you need it, so even if you only have a diagnosis of depression, if it’s shown that your depression interferes with your speed or quality of work you can very easily get 10% extra time and possibly even 25%. Once you’re looking at higher percentages like 50% or 100%+ it gets increasingly more difficult to qualify, 100%+ is incredibly rare and 50% is somewhat rare, but the process is similar. Either way: Talk to your school about it

Modified papers (large text, braile, coloured paper), a reader, a scribe, or the option to use technology to type written responses. There are specific requirements for obtaining these arrangements, and they differ from board to board and school to school, typically you will know if you require this sort of thing or not and it’s easiest to do your own research, and then get a doctor’s note or other medical certificate for these applications. Talk to your school about what you need for them to consider it.

And my personal favourite: four function calculator. This is possibly one of the hardest accommodations to get and you need to have a certain standard score on a mathematical related psych test (IB wants below 90 on a test of mathematical fluency), which means you need to get properly evaluated by an edpsych to even have a chance at receiving it.

And last but not least:

Do not be afraid to ask for help if you need it

So the Otakon accessibility policies seem... pretty shady

Otakon is a (mostly) Japanese pop-culture con (i.e. anime convention +) that happens annually in DC, though it had been in Baltimore up until recently.

This is my first year going. I've been to other conventions in that convention center in the last 2 years, and the accessibility policies and practices were pretty good. But then I read up on this years and saw a lot of stuff that, while not necessarily an issue for me (as I will be dependent on my walker and cane while there), could spell trouble for people with invisible disabilities (which used to be me).

I copy and pasted the full text from the website, and I highlighted the questionable bits with purple and italics (I'm sorry for the color, but I'm hoping its the least problematic choice color-wise for visual issues... italics isnt enough of a highlighting format when scrolling theough text and having visual issues, so its been a catch 22). I apologise for the wall-of-text nature of my post!:

//start website text

Member Accessibility

Last Updated: Aug 15, 2017 11:10AM EDT

The Basics:

What is “Member Accessibility”?

Member Accessibility is a department that assists convention attendees who may need a little extra help, due to differing abilities. When attendees need and request it, we can provide them with elevator access, priority seating, and in very limited instances, an escort through or around crowded areas. We do not provide medical equipment, including wheelchairs, nor do we provide assistance in using such equipment. You will need to provide this on your own.

Where is Member Accessibility?

We have a desk in the main registration area. We also have staff located in many areas of the convention center, called rovers. They will have a black Otakon Staff t-shirt, with a blue reflective armband.

What are the hours of operation for Member Accessibility?

Member Accessibility will have someone on duty for all hours the convention center doors are open to the public, including Thursday’s online registration pickup period. However, someone may not be present at the desk during lulls. If this is the case, please see the next question for information on reaching us.

How do I get a hold of Member Accessibility?

During the year, you can reach us by using the email us option through our online contact system. Please select “Member Accessibility” as the topic to ensure your question is sent to the right department.

Please keep in mind that we may not be able to respond to all messages. If you have an urgent concern, please come to the Member Accessibility desk at Registration. If you are unable to travel to this desk, please ask a member of staff to page Member Accessibility. Member Accessibility will dispatch someone to assist, if they are available, but it may take some time to arrive at your location.

Preparing for the convention:

Should I request assistance from Member Accessibility?

You should ask for assistance if you have a medical need, or such assistance would prevent damage to an existing injury. For example, if you have a broken leg, or are pregnant and in your third trimester, you should ask us for assistance. On the other hand, if you have a large costume, or are tired from walking all day, we apologize, but our department cannot assist you.

What qualifies me for Member Accessibility assistance?

As stated above, any medical need will cover you. Some examples:

a condition that limits movement;

something that alters your ability to navigate stairs;

something that limits your travel distance;

a condition that causes pain while standing or walking for an extended period;

heart or lung related issues;

recent surgery; or

blindness.

The list is not complete, and only serves as a handful of examples. If you are unsure if you qualify, please contact us before the convention, so that we may investigate, and if necessary, provide alternative advice for you. For clarity, below are some examples that would not qualify for our assistance:

diabetes;

broken arm;

bulky costumes;

limping; or

“I don’t feel good.”

Regardless if you are eligible for Member Accessibility services during Otakon, if you begin to feel unwell during the convention, please take a break, and if needed, ask a friend for assistance. If you experience a medical emergency during the convention, please call 911 immediately.

Do I need a doctor’s note?

If it is not easily apparent that you are in need of assistance, we will ask for some kind of documentation of your situation. Some examples of acceptable forms of documentation are

a doctor’s note on script paper;

prescribed medication for condition in original container, with a label containing your name;

a note from a hospital or clinic on letterhead or script paper;

handicap parking identifier; or

a Maryland MTA reduced fare identification card, or your state or country’s equivalent.

The following are a few things we would not accept as documentation:

over the counter medication;

a note written by yourself or, when applicable, a guardian; or

a doctor's note dated more than two months prior to Otakon.

At the convention:

Picking up your badge

First things first, check into your hotel, if needed, and relax for a little bit. When picking up your badge, go directly to the door, bypassing the line. Indicate to the Otakon staff member (not security) you are proceeding to Member Accessibility. The staff will show you how to get there, or call for assistance if it is needed.

Already have your badge?

Unless your badge has been specially modified by Member Accessibility, you will not be permitted to use any elevator inside the convention center, except the one located nearest to the Member Accessibility desk. If this limitation would prevent you from reaching the desk, please ask any member of staff to page Member Accessibility. We will dispatch someone to your location to escort you to the Member Accessibility desk. During peak times, it may take a long time for someone to come to your location, due to limited staff available to respond.

At the desk

If there is a wait at the desk, please use the provided seating if it is needed. If seating is not available, consult with the nearest member of staff with reflective tape on their arms.

Member Accessibility will ask you to explain your situation, and provide documentation, if it is necessary. We will look at your documentation, or medication, and immediately return it to you. You will be responsible for its safe keeping or disposal.

While it is understandably frustrating, if your needs are not readily apparent, and you do not possess some form of documentation, we may turn you away. So, we urge you to please bring something with you to support your claim.

Upon verification of your claim, we will modify your badge, indicating to all staff that you are allowed to use the elevator and/or have priority access to seating.

Waiting in line

If you find yourself in a long line for an event that provides seating, please speak with the member of staff at the start or end of the line. They will provide whatever assistance they can to ensure you receive a safe seating area.

//end website text

SO, the very vague language about what is a "readily apparent" disability vs not really concerns me (for just one example: could an ambulatory wheelchair user seen standing from their chair lose their elevator access?), especially when they ask for the kind of proof they do. Just off the top of my head, some problems could include:

medical conditions that haven't been diagnosed formally because sometimes these things take years, or doctors dont believe you, or doctor visits are costly, etc (e.g. I've had a syncope condition since I was 4 that didn't get formally diagnosed until I was 29)

people who can't just pop into their doctors office within a very specific time frame because of schedules (really common! How many of us have had to wait months to be seen for even the most routine thing or urgetnt thing and ended up going to the ER because of that?). People who can't just pop into their doctor's office because of cost (and some of you might say "yeah, but cons cost money", but those are very different costs and maybe someone bought you a pass, or... really all kinds of things that arent anyone's business).

Doctors who straight up won't write you such a specialised note for this. A lot of doctors are busy and won't/can't give you an appointment for this kind of thing, and since it has to be official letterhead or script paper they can't even just send you one via email or an online patient chart portal.

How are they regulating elevator access anyway? If someone is determined "not disabled enough" and they manage to somehow make it up to, say, the 3rd floor anyway by sheer stuborness then, I don't know, find they're gonna faint, what should they do? Hope they dont faint on the stairs and injure themselves possibly horribly? Call 911 unnecessarily and incur the related hospital bills because some random person who... I'm guessing WON'T be a doctor had decided they aren't disabled "enough"?

The specific call outs for diabetes, broken arms, and "I dont feel good".... I give that side eye. If someone with diabetes gets in a bad way while in a hot, crowded, indoor venue (which I'd bet happens to many folks), and they need quick and safe egress, then just... too bad? I don't know much about diabetes but even I seriously question this con telling people who do and who have it what they supposedly don't need. I also remember having a bad shoulder i jury in jr high and high school and having my doctor order that the school ley me use the elevator to move between floors to avoid further injury from a crowded halway. Pretty sure someone with a broken arm at a major con could have the same need. And of course, "I dont feel good" could mean so many things! It could mean I'm gonna have a seizure, or faint, or a whole bunch of things, amd when your cognition is being reduced by such a condition you are hardly gonna be up to explaining to some staff member who is, again, PROBABLY NOT A DOCTOR, that you are about to have an episode and you need fast safe egress. What you probably CAN day is "I dont feel good".

And even if you DON'T have a condition, its late July and a huge convention center full of bodies and noise, and people will be in costumes that can over heat them unexpectedly. Are they really gonna deny someone a help as simple as an elevator ride down a floor or two if they get in a bad way because they aren't officially approved or whatever? People who AREN'Y disabled get sick, too. "Call a friend" yeah people, you know, do stuff alone. And badges are not free. This is not a viable option... not when the alternative is CALL 911. There are all kinds of emergencies that are not 911 emergencies, but ARE I-cant-use-stairs emergencies. WTF.

Anyway, I can go on, but honestly I haven't the energy or constitution for it 😂 But mostly it's the elevator access restriction that's worrying me. I went to Awesome Con in this same place last year and there were NO elevator restrictions, and I didnt see the elevators being over run by people who "didn't need them" (and really, taking the stairs was way more convenient if you could take them). So this isn't a convention center policy but an Otakon one.

I want to contact someone about this, maybe post something on the con or convention center facebook page, but I'm... not really well enough to put it together properly, like what to include or not include. I'm also not too sure of the law here - ADA says sonething about open access for platforms but nothing about elevators. What applies here? Can I try to effect a change anyway, regardless of legal clout behind me?

What do you all think?

One disability person and life

(Note! I hope everyone understand: I’m not professional. I have a mental disability [mixed anxiety and depression (mild)] and the difficult physical disabilities [a basic diagnose is Diastrophic Dysplasia]. I can only talk my own experiences and whit those whom I have talked.)

Good day or evening everyone and welcome to read this series! The first part, I talk generally about the disabilities and the people and I give the three lessons/tips.

A next text is the international definition who has the disabled person. This is good to know because it explains about difference between an injure/disease and the disability.

"Persons with disabilities include those who have long-term physical, mental, intellectual or sensory impairments which in interaction with various barriers may hinder their full and effective participation in society on an equal basis with others."

A first lesson (and the most important). Write the person and a personality not the disability.

It’s important know which the disabilities your character because it affect their lives. They are still much more. The disabilities people have own life.

They can go at a school, a work, do the homework and cook the food etc. They have the friends, relatives, families, relationships. They argue, cry, shout, smile, laughs, cuddle, love, hate etc. They have the hobbies and interests, different licences etc. Some tell immediately their disabilities, some doesn’t tell ever or rarely. There have the LGBTQ+ people. There have the good and bad people.

We are the real people! Keep this in your mind and you are more winner than you understand.

The second lesson. The disability is a huge scale.

It even a bit stupid scale and word because there are so many different and different degrees disabilities still everyone has put under one word. The scale is still the real thing and it can be hard understanding. I list some “think the twice moments”.

You cannot write a same style...

- somebody who has a hand amputation/deaf/dyslexia/depressed/autism/ADD or many different disabilities together.

- somebody who has born with some disability or get it later their life.

- someone whom disability will kill them and someone who lives normal their whole long life. (E.g. a cancer isn’t the disability it’s a disease but some Dystrophic forms are deadly like de la Chapelle - dysplasia)

- the different countries about the social systems and the rights toward the disabilities people.

- their families and relatives’ attitudes toward disabilities person. Some families or parents take it alright and take care protect their kids like the tigers. Some have done abort or give their child adopt (this aren’t bad thing if their kids can get the better live this way) etc.

You cannot write the same style any disability people and their lives.

A third lesson is the tips. How to get the possible variable but real knowledges any disabilities then?

- Read the different information and the symptoms which your choice disability/ies belongs. Remember that no everyone have everything and how they effect together. Try to find the simple but official web pages or the union/club/society pages which shares the info. It easier understand than a hospital/doctor/medical technical language.

- The documents movies, tv document and reality shows, others books (real and fiction), blogs even some movies are the good ways but be a critical that info and compare it

- Try yourself if you have a possible. E.g. take a (work)chair and go to do your normal life things with sit on it. This will a bit demonstrate uses a wheelchair. Or be only your knees (you should be around 1 - 1.35 m high). Those experience aren’t perfect but it the good way get some understating and see the new problems.

- Search if your city or country have some Assistive Technology or Aid show/fair where you can see the new aids and maybe try them and you meet many disabilities people in the real life.

- Search a beta reader/someone whom has the same disability/ies than your characters! What I have meet the people and I think myself, many disables person like to help and share the knowledge. This is your best thing which you can ever do yourself, it will give much helps.

Some web links 

UN [Department of Economic and Social Affairs Disability] especially disability pages.

Article 1 who has the disabled person

Disabled world (This is new page to me but what I search, it can be very helpful)

Pls, send questions or do this help anyway or some comments. I would like to know that do I anything right. This is my first tip post ever. It can be a bit dull but I try to use more real life experience next parts. The idea was give to your something generally what you never do and what you need to do. I wanted to get this out before I start to give anything more. If anything is wrong, come to talk with me because I’m only one human. I can do the mistakes