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eryiss · 4 years

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Event: LGBTQA+ Month hosted by @ft-wwtdp

Ship: Fraxus (Freed Justine x Gajeel Redfox)

Prompts: Gamble, Balance, Thirst, Quarrel Accident

Verse: Victorian AU

Alternate Places To Read: Fanfiction, Archive of our Own. Event master list here.

Here’s my sixth group of one shots for the LGBTQA+ month. You can read rest in the master list linked above. Again, this is set in the victorian era, and has some minor period typical values. Nothing graphic, but be wanred of suggestions of a less accepting time. Also, the thirst prompt has sexual undertones. There’s only kissing, but you might want to skip it if that’s not your thing.

Day Twenty-Six – Gamble (On Yourself)

Gajeel had taken far too many gambles today.

It had been a gamble to cut through the docking area of Magnolia where many people got mugged, even despite his intimidating style. It had been a gamble to let his workmates know he wouldn't be at home, as that might allow questions to begin as to where he would spend the evening. It had been a gamble to even look towards the establishment that he had just entered. Tonight had been a night filled with gambles.

The building looked… normal. Pretty much like every other bar that Gajeel had patronised in his life. For the unknowing, this might have been just a regular tavern. But The Guild – or more colloquially referred to as Fairy Tail – was no such bar.

It was a bathhouse.

A place for men of Gajeel's persuasion to meet in safety. It was filled with all sorts of peoples, and acted as a safe heaven for them all. Men interested in buggery, those who rejected the gender they were born into, and those who didn't conform to what society wanted of them in some other capacity. It was Gajeel's first time in such a place and, despite knowing that he had more in common with the patrons of this bar than any other he'd been in, he felt incredibly out of place. Like a stranger, looking upon something that he shouldn't have seen.

He slowly approached the bar, unaware if the feeling of being watched was justified or not. He was regretting coming here already; he could have stayed home or drunk at a more common bar. He shouldn't have let Laxus tell him of such a place, or convince him to even think about going there.

Fairy Tail wasn't only a bathhouse. There were rooms available for renting upstairs should two men need them, but it was by no means a requirement. It was just a bar where you could be yourself. Laxus had said Gajeel would enjoy himself.

"Hello sir," A woman behind the bar greeted when he got close. "What can I get for you?"

"Erm," Gajeel mumbled, not wanting to be seen. "What d'ya have."

"Oh we have lots to chose from," The woman smiled, speaking patiently. "Anything any other bars have. Beer, ale, lager, wines, champagne if you're so inclined. And, between you and me, I've been practicing my cocktails and I'm getting rather good at them. So anything you might want, I'm sure we'll be able to accommodate."

"Beer, ma'am," Gajeel requested. The woman nodded, and Gajeel took a seat at the bar.

The woman got to work on pouring Gajeel's drink into a tankard, and the man kept his eyes straight on the bartop. He was just coming here out of curiosity and because he had let Laxus get into his head. Too busy trying to look inconspicuous, he failed to notice the man who had walked into the bar and sat beside him with a considerably greater amount of confidence when compared to Gajeel himself. It was only when he spoke that Gajeel realised he wasn't alone.

"A glass of my regular please Mirajane, my dear," A smooth, refined voice said, and Gajeel glanced to his side.

The man beside him was clearly wealthy, as portrayed by his fancy clothing and clean fingernails. When Gajeel glanced up he saw a head of long, silky green hair and a strong jawline. A gentleman then. Looking up further, Gajeel saw striking eyes and an expression of contentment.

At that moment, he was pretty much everything Gajeel was not.

"Give me a moment Freed," The barmaid, Mirajane, commented as she finished Gajeel's drink. "This gentleman got here first."

"And I don't get preferential treatment for being here so often?"

"Driving away my customers? You're lucky you're not charged extra," Mirajane laughed.

The man, Freed, seemed to enjoy the joke at his expense. It appeared that the contrast of Gajeel's discomfort and Freed's easy and relaxed nature seemed to have been noticed by the richer man, who looked to Gajeel with an expression of quiet intrigue. In response, Gajeel turned down and looked towards the top of the bar again, trying not to allow himself to be pinned by the sharp expression of the man beside him.

He couldn't help but squirm slightly. It wasn't often than he was around men with his fondness for the same sex. Well, there was Laxus, but neither man had interest in the other. But Freed, in his slight nobility and smooth voice, was the type of man that Gajeel enjoyed.

In theory at least, in reality the man looking at him made him squirm.

"I think you could only look more uncomfortable if a crocodile was threatening to bite off your toes," The man said to Gajeel, smiling softly. "First time in a place like this?"

"That obvious?" Gajeel asked, looking back to Freed and cupping the beer he's been given.

"It was either that or you're a copper who drew the short straw, and has to come here undercover and you're scared of anyone getting within a foot of you," Freed laughed at his own joke, and Gajeel let out a single chuckle. "With my experience, the police are much too boring to allow a man like yourself in their ranks."

"What d'you mean by that?" Gajeel asked, slightly offended.

"You have a rough beauty to you, sir. From what I've seen, any individuality is whipped out of you and replaced by a baton and a badge," Freed smiled, and Gajeel found himself speechless at the compliment. He had never once been called beautiful, never expected that to happen either. "Freed Justine, a pleasure to meet you."

"Gajeel," He introduced himself, delighted he didn't stammer over the word. He didn't say his surname; that was a gamble he wasn't going to take.

"Oh," Mirajane interrupted. "You must be Laxus friend, he mentioned that you might come by and I'm to look after you. I should have known."

"He thinks I need looking after?" Gajeel grunted, squaring his shoulders a little.

"No. Those weren't his words," Mirajane was quick to correct him. Out of the corner of his eye, Gajeel could see Freed smiling amusedly at the situation. "It's just he mentioned that you might not be used to places like this, and I know that they can be a little intimidating for new people. He just wanted me to keep an eye on you, make sure it didn't overwhelm you or that someone unknowingly made you uncomfortable."

"Oh," Gajeel mumbled. "Well, you don't need to put yourself to any trouble. I can look after myself."

"And if not, I'm sure I can look after our new friend," Freed smiled, before whispering. "Miss Strauss, though a kind woman, is rather a gossip. Harmlessly so, she enjoys knowing things rather than telling them, but she can be rather vicious when she wants to find something out."

"I can hear you," Mirajane stated, her voice less melodic now.

"Thus proving my point, don't you think," Freed smirked, and Mirajane glared at him. "Attend to your customers, dear, I'll keep him company," He then looked to Gajeel. "If you'll have me, of course."

Gajeel reddened slightly. "Ain't got any objections."

After that, Mirajane decided to leave them alone, and the two men began to speak. Gajeel didn't know if it was purposeful, but the conversation never once approached the reason why Gajeel was there. No speak of relationships, identity, or lovers. It started off about the best kind of drink – Freed fighting for wine, Gajeel for beer – which then divulged into what both men did for a living. Then, they just talked about nothing.

And it was good. Gajeel had never really had a conversation in a bar before. Men didn't speak in the bars he usually went to. Men drank, smoke, and sometimes made hopeless advancements on women. This was rather an improvement.

Freed was pretty good company, too. He was interesting, and perhaps the most handsome man Gajeel had laid eyes on. Rather destructively, Gajeel had a fondness for men above his station. Freed was that, most definitely. Refined, well spoken, obviously wealthy too if he was as successful in his career in law as he stated.

"Tell me, Gajeel," Freed said suddenly, finishing his wine. "Have you ever kissed a man before?"

"Erm," Gajeel blanked. The topic had come from nowhere. "Guess not."

"Shame," Freed smiled pleasantly. Seductively? Maybe Gajeel was thinking too deeply about the conversation though. "Would you like to?"

"E-excuse me?" Gajeel stammered. People weren't so forward, particularly when they were speaking about committing a crime. An unfair crime, but a crime none the less.

"Would you like me to kiss you," Freed grinned a little. "You're my type, and I think I might be yours. And I'm rather good at it."

"I mean… is that-" Gajeel was suddenly overwhelmed by the situation.

He hadn't come here to meet a man, or act on his impulses. It was just meant to be a place where Gajeel didn't have to look over his shoulder, and to perhaps drink with men with the same fondness that he had. A safe space, essentially. He hadn't expected anyone to pay any interest to him, let alone a man that would tick off the boxes of Gajeel's perfect man. He had no idea how to deal with such a situation.

Luckily, Freed did. The man reached over, took Gajeel's chin in his fingers, and engaged him in his first kiss.

And it was euphoria.

~~~

Day Twenty-Seven – Balance (And Adjustments)

Freed had always managed to keep his life well balanced.

He had put a lot of effort into forging a strong and reliable career that afforded him a more luxurious lifestyle than most. He had a small group of good friends who had allowed him the social interactions he needed, but also understood that sometimes he needed space alone. He had many hobbies that he often kept up with, be that reading, translations of old languages, or the investigation of antiques. These three aspects of his life were all he had needed, and he'd made sure to give them all the time they required.

With this balance, Freed had been happy. There hadn't been anything obviously missing in his life, nor was there a sense of melancholy. The life he had created for him had been satisfactory. But, with the inclusion of Gajeel, something more had been added.

And that something was threatening to throw this balance off.

Gajeel was unique in Freed's life, in almost every way. He was of a lower class and rough around the edges, something that Freed enjoyed greatly. He was more open with his opinions, lacking the middle class fear of insulting people. He was also more willing to take risks than Freed often allowed himself to be, the brashness of his personality invading Freed's life in a delightful way. It was as if someone had taken a jaw-droppingly handsome hammer to Freed's existence, with the intention of building up something new in its place.

But would this new thing be better, or worse? It was a question that Freed found himself pondering silently as he walked down the road towards his modestly comfortable home, with Gajeel at his side.

The two men had been on a few dates at this point. Well, they had drunk together and shared a single meal, but it was the closest thing two men could get to dating. So far, Freed had kept his interactions with Gajeel limited to these meetings. He was keeping the man at arm's length, because he didn't know if he could risk Gajeel getting closer to him.

But that night, Freed might have changed his mind.

They'd gone to a bar of Gajeel's choosing, which was considerably rougher than anywhere Freed went. They had done almost what they always did, drinking at a bar in the same way friends would. But when, after both got slightly tipsy, drinks had been placed before them, Gajeel had offered a challenge. He bet Freed a tuppence that he could finish his pint before Freed could.

And in that moment, Gajeel was the most attractive man Freed had ever laid eyes on. With a cocky smirk, challenging Freed to a competition, he was irresistible. He had a slightly crook in his nose, his sharp teeth visible, and his piercings glinting in the candle light. If it were acceptable, Freed would have jumped on him then and there.

But he didn't. Instead, he drank. And then he started to think.

They'd shared a few kisses in the seclusion of a dark alley, but that was it. Again, Freed had stopped it before anything further could happen, and it was all because he didn't want to upset the balance of his life. He had spent a lot of time creating a stable existence for himself, and Gajeel posed a threat to it. And now he had to decide if he was willing to risk it. To allow the balance to be upended and recreated with Gajeel in it.

He had to decide weather to invite him in his home, or leave him at the gate again.

Even thinking about it, his gut supplied the answer. Let him in. Gajeel was everything that Freed could have dreamt of, if he was honest. Fun, competitive, cheeky, creative, heartfelt, honest. And he wasn't just looking to take Freed to some secluded room and bed him, he genuinely seemed like he wanted a relationship. That was rare, and Freed shouldn't throw it away.

"Yer awful quiet suddenly," Gajeel commented. "Still pouting about losing?"

"No," Freed laughed. "And I still maintain you distracted me on purpose," Gajeel cackled at that. "Running your thigh against mine is a rather nasty trick."

"Doesn't mean ya don't have ta pay up, does it?" Gajeel smirked.

"I could drink you under the table with a higher quality wine," Freed rebutted, faux glaring while he tried to supress a laugh. This was something Gajeel had already done to him, allowed a more juvenile delight enter his every day life. That was definitely something that Freed wasn't ready to get rid of.

"You wanna take me to some fancy bar and prove it, fine by me," Gajeel crossed his arms, and Freed could see his arms flexing under the fabric of his clothes. "But yer paying."

"You certainly know how to get a drink out of me," Freed commented sardonically.

Gajeel laughed, and pat him on the shoulder with a little amount of strength. That was something that he did often, and Freed had concluded that it was his alternative to a romantic gesture. They couldn't very well hold hand in the middle of the street, after all, so a masculine pat on the back would have to do. When the thought struck him, Freed had to wonder what Gajeel's hands would feel like. Callous and rough no doubt. Rather delightful sounding.

It was then that Freed realised just how ridiculous was being.

He was thinking about what the other man's hands would feel like in his own. He couldn't pretend that this was platonic, nor could be delude himself into thinking this was two men who would eventually use each other for satisfaction.

He wasn't just attracted to Gajeel sexually. There was a romantic feeling too.

Worst still, Freed realised just how patient the other man was being with him. Freed had been the one to instigate the whole damn thing, and at first he had held off getting too far with him because Gajeel was inexperienced. But they weren't just strangers at a bar anymore, they were friends. They were comfortable around each other, and if the suggestive comments Gajeel had started to make were reflective of how he felt, Gajeel was willing to become lovers. And so was Freed, so why the hell was he putting things off?

To keep some sort of balance. What was the point in that? He wasn't keeping himself safe, he was allowing himself to stagnate. If he didn't take a step forward with Gajeel, then he never would. And his comfortable, balanced life would be all he had. And, right now, he wanted a bit of adventure.

"Taking you to a bar seems counter-intuitive," Freed continued, a sudden rush of adrenaline pushing him forward. "I've rather a well-stocked liquor cabinet right here. I can prove my point to you now, if you'd like."

Gajeel faltered a little, looking towards Freed's house as they stopped at the gate before it. He had walked Freed home after each of their dates, as the street was part of his walk home, but had never been invited in before. He glanced at the building, then at Freed, and grinned.

"You wanna be humiliated in yer own home, that's your choice," Gajeel grinned.

Then, as if it were natural, Freed found himself opening the gate to his home and walking down the path. Gajeel followed him, and an electric drumming of anticipation and excitement flowed through him. As he put the key in the lock, he wondered why he had taken so long to let this happen.

And once the door was closed, and Gajeel was pushing him against a wall with his lips, any thoughts of balance left him completely.

~~~

Day Twenty-Eight – Thirst (Of A Nobleman)

Anybody else would just think that Freed had been particularly thirsty. Nobody would have even noticed just how much Freed had been drinking throughout the day, and if they actually had, they would've just assumed that he needed a drink. There was no chance of anyone realising the actual reason that Freed had been continually drinking flute after flute of champagne throughout the afternoon.

Freed also hoped that Gajeel didn't know the reason for his apparent thirst. He would be intolerably smug when he realised it was because of him.

Weeks prior, Freed had been invited to attend a party at a nearby manor house owned by the Dreyar family. Being close with the son of the family, Freed had also gotten Gajeel an invitation. His lover would be there under the guise of a possible business partner that Freed needed to impress. Only the Dreyar's themselves knew that Gajeel was Freed's lover, so the excuse was needed.

And with such an excuse, Gajeel needed a change of clothes.

The man, being an ironmonger, didn't have many luxurious pieces of clothing, and had needed to go to the tailors so the lie of him being a businessman could be believable. Freed had through nothing of it as he'd sent the man to his tailor, expecting him to come back in something more similar to what Freed often worn. He had thought that Gajeel would have some clothes of a nicer fabric and more modern stylings, and that was it.

He hadn't expected the outfit to be so… flattering.

Of course, flattering wasn't the word that came to mind when he first saw Gajeel wearing it. Freed's immediate impressions were that it was gorgeous, gentlemanly, and, importantly, tight. Tight enough to encourage a rush of blood to swell Freed's groin.

And throughout the afternoon, Gajeel had been wearing the outfit. It was a test of patience for Freed rivalling torture, and the man believed he deserved a damn medal for not insisting they find an unused room in the house and buggering the man against the wall like a pair of animals. The urge had been there throughout the entire day, and Freed had only managed to keep his hands off his lover by busying them with something else.

Namely, drinking.

It had been a hellishly difficult task. The formal clothes had been measured to fit snugly around Gajeel, highlight his strong physique. His biceps bulged in his sleeves, his chest was pronounced in his shirt and coat, and his riding trousers had been so damn tight Freed could see the musculature that made up his thigs through them. Freed would have to have a word with his tailor, perhaps docking him some pay for making his balls blue.

What was worse, Gajeel himself had taken to the outfit perfectly. Well, in a sense. He didn't play the part of an aristocrat, but as someone who had fallen into money but stuck to his workman roots. The juxtaposition of the man's luxury against his rough and common personality had an effect on Freed he couldn't quantify.

Forget a medal. Freed deserved compensation for being so patient.

And Gajeel had more torture for Freed yet. Once the party was over, and they had returned to Freed's home, Gajeel had delivered a final blow. He shucked off his jacket and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. Now a tantalising vision of his hair covered chest was peeking out, and Freed felt his sanity slipping away.

"Scoundrel," Freed muttered to himself, not expecting Gajeel to hear.

"What?" Gajeel asked, and Freed looked up to see he was grinning.

Freed's breath caught in his lungs. Gajeel was sitting in the armchair that Freed often read at, lounging over the leather with the smuggest expression on his face. His legs were spread wide, and Freed was given clear clarification that Gajeel hadn't worn a codpiece. His arms were bulging in his sleeves and, finally, Freed realised that the bastard knew what effect he had on his lover, and had been making it worse.

"I called you a scoundrel," Freed said again, glaring. Gajeel grinned. "You… you bloody well did all of that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Don't know what you mean," Gajeel grinned. He didn't even try to be convincing. "I just asked for my clothes to be tight cause I like the feeling."

"You… you-" The words wouldn't come to Freed. Gajeel sauntered over to his lover, smirking.

"I thought this party was gonna be full of stuffy asshats, I needed to have a little fun," He grinned, standing over Freed. He leant down, took the glaring man's chin in his fingers and leant closer. "I've never seen a nobleman so thirsty before. The sun must have been getting to ya. Only thing that makes sense, given how hot and sweaty you were lookin'."

"You will regret doing this," Freed muttered, eyes hard. The looming presence of his gorgeous lover above him was starting to take an effect, however. "I will make damn sure of that."

"I'm scared," Gajeel chuckled. "If it makes ya any less angry, I wanted ta jump on ya just as much."

Before Freed could say anything, Gajeel leant down and brought their lips together in a heated and passionate kiss. Freed returned it within an instant, running a hand over Gajeel's strong arms and feeling the muscles flexing over the fabric. He grabbed the collar of the man's shirt and tugged on it sharply, making the man collapse into his lap. The kiss continued as he did so.

"I very much doubt it," Freed snapped against Gajeel's lips.

Gajeel cackled, pressing himself further against Freed as they kissed against the chair. When he felt Freed's hands roaming under his shirt, unbuttoning it without elegance nor patience, he grinned into the kiss. Freed pinched his skin in retort, and Gajeel laughed. He would have to make his nobleman 'thirsty' more often, it seemed.

~~~

Day Twenty-Nine – Quarrel (And The Aftermath)

Gajeel had been homeless before, he could do it again.

It wasn't an ideal situation, but he would get by. Just because he had got used to the luxury of living in Freed's cosy household didn't mean his street smarts had been removed. He had spent just shy of a year on the streets, and he'd made it through well enough, he just had to do it again. It wouldn't be anywhere near as comfortable as his life had been with Freed, but that was okay. He could tough it out until his situation got better.

He'd already found a good spot; under a canal bridge, close to an inn that Gajeel knew from experience would hand out scraps of uneaten food. And he had a trunk of clothing to keep him warm, which was better than what he'd had before. The trunk wasn't his, but Freed probably wouldn't miss it.

Freed. Gajeel felt a little sick when he thought of the man.

They had engaged in an argument in the morning. It was initiated by the most ridiculous of things; Freed had thrown a piece of fruit away that was bordering on rotten. Gajeel claimed it was a waste, Freed said that he wasn't going to eat spoiled food when it wasn't necessary. Somehow, this had devolved into a petty but nasty argument between them both about Freed's middle class upbringing and the contrast against Gajeel's own childhood. It had reached it's nastiest when Gajeel had claimed that Freed was a spoiled bastard without a grasp on reality.

The argument had been left there, as Freed had stormed out to go to work. Gajeel had festered in his anger for a while, before he realised what this argument had meant. He had been living in Freed's home for months, and the man was his landlord. It was unlikely that he would be allowed to remain after their fight.

So he had packed a trunk of his clothes and his items that he could sell, and left.

It was a bad day to do it, as well. The rain was heavy, and the dark clouds made Gajeel think that thunder and perhaps even lightning was coming. But he wrapped himself up in the large coat Freed had gotten him for his birthday, trying to ignore the irony that he was taking comfort in something of Freed's despite the fact he had left the mans home.

The more he thought about their argument, the queasier it made him feel. They had grown up in different ways, but that didn't mean Freed was a bad person. He was a criminal lawyer; he knew the struggles people went through better than most. Gajeel had just been angry – and perhaps embarrassed – that he hadn't been afforded the same luxuries that others had. But Freed wasn't to blame, and he had never been patronising about the difference in their lifestyles.

"Shit," Gajeel sighed, fingers tapping against the battered leather of the trunk he was sitting on. "Really fucked that up, didn't ya."

But it was too late now. Freed was a prideful man and – while Gajeel enjoyed that side of his personality – it was unlikely he would sit back after being insulted. Gajeel should have just kept his insecurities to himself. His stupid pride had lost him his home and his lover.

Leaning against the wall of the bridge, he allowed his eyes to close and was consumed by sleep.

He didn't know how long he had slept for, but when he felt a shaking on his shoulder and woke up again, it was now late enough for the stars to be out. He blinked groggily to see who had woken him, and saw that it was Freed, looking at him with a face of concern.

"How the hell d'you find me?" Gajeel asked, voice croaking.

"I spoke to Laxus, he told me of a few placed you could be, one being here," Freed explained. "Why aren't you at home, Gajeel?"

"Assumed you didn't want me there," Gajeel shrugged; it was obvious, he thought. "Guys don't normally like it when their shagging partner insults them. Thought it was best to leave before you came back."

Freed gave Gajeel a look of many emotions. It started off confused, flickered to annoyance for a moment, and then settled on resignation. He shifted slightly, moving so that he could join Gajeel on the trunk he was sitting on, looking out over the canal that was lit by stars. Gajeel frowned at the action, looking at his lover – ex-lover now, most likely – not understanding his actions.

"You're not just the man I sleep with, Gajeel," Freed said softly.

"Sure," Gajeel scoffed.

"I mean it," He spoke more firmly now. "I understand that a relationship like ours isn't the most conventional, but that doesn't mean it's any less valid. I don't want you to just be my lover – just someone who I know who I can take to bed – I want you to be my partner," He smiled at Gajeel, and looked beautiful. "I love you, Gajeel."

"You do?" Gajeel almost froze at the statement.

"Yes. I have never seen us just as people who can settle the others urges. I've seen you as my partner, the man who, if I could, I would marry," Freed admitted, and Gajeel felt a surge of emotions flow through him. Freed spoke again before he could understand them. "And I think you feel the same way. You've just denied it because it makes leaving easier."

At Freed's conclusion, Gajeel realised he was right. They weren't just having fun with each other, they shared emotions and feelings. They had courted and moved into a home together. Gajeel hadnt allowed himself to think of it that way, but of course that was what they had done.

"Shit," Gajeel mumbled. "I-I love you too."

"Quite so," Freed grinned, and Gajeel nudged him. "And, I'm sure you know, people in relationships often argue. It doesn't mean that one of them moves out and make themselves homeless."

"You don't want me gone?" Gajeel asked.

"Of course not," Freed assured him, smiling. "We will have arguments, of course we will. But, as people in love often do, we just need to get past them. Put aside our pride and come to a middle ground," Freed patted him on the thigh. "And I should apologise. I often disregard your childhood and how it has shaped you, and that's not fair. I shouldn't have been dismissive of what you said, and I shouldn't have gotten so defensive when you challenged me."

"No," Gajeel shook his head. "I shouldn't have made such a big deal about a fucking apple. And I called you a lot of nasty things that weren't appropriate."

"Well, some of them were. I was being rather a bastard," Freed chuckled, and Gajeel grinned slightly. "You have a sailor's mouth when you're angry, don't you?"

"Sorry," Gajeel chuckled.

"It's charming," Freed smiled, leaning against his lover with a soft smile. "We probably should have had a conversation like this before I stormed out, shouldn't we?"

"Probably," Gajeel agreed.

"Come home, Gajeel," Freed requested softly, and it made Gajeel feel warm inside.

Freed was his lover, his partner and his friend. This was something that Gajeel had never expected, and something that he held dear to him. They were good together, Gajeel had always known that, but hearing that his feelings were reciprocated was something that he hadn't thought would happen.

But now that it had, he felt damn idiotic for his actions. For leaving, as if it was an appropriate response. No, he and Freed were adults in a relationship, and they could work though their problems. That was a brilliant feeling.

"Okay."

~~~

Day Thirty – Accident (And Realisations)

It turned out it was true. Life really did flash before your eyes in a near death situation.

A mugging, that's what had caused it. Three men had cornered him in an alleyway, he removed his cane from his person and had started to beat him when he hadn't given them his wallet. He had put up a fight for a small amount of time, but the three of them were strong and outnumbered him. They were armed with impromptu weaponry and had thrashed the fight out of him, leaving him to die most likely.

As he had slowly lost consciousness as blood trickled from his wounds, his mind had supplied a stream of images from his life. Leaving for boarding school for the first time, riding a horse without help, his first dalliance with a farm-boy in a barnyard.

Then Gajeel had entered the stream of memories, and had dominated the experience. He remembered the first time they had met, their first kiss, their first night together, the first time Freed had confessed his love for the man. Smaller things to, like the cocky grin he had when he was issuing Freed some kind of wager, or the nights spent in their shared living room, reading or talking by the fire. Small moments of their relationship that Freed found himself adoring on reflection.

He passed out soon after.

Waking up in an unfamiliar room was disconcerting, and the pain flooding his body was vicious and unrepentant. He hissed at the sensation, and tried to distract himself somehow. The strong hands gripping his own were a good way to do that.

When he looked up, he saw a pleasant looking room. He adjusted his eyes at the open window and saw a street lit by the morning son; the street was familiar, but he was in a part of it that he didn't know. After a few moments he realised this was the same road he lived on, but a different house. Most likely, given the pain he was in, Porlyusica's house; a retired nurse that lived about three homes down from Freed.

But none of that was particularly important when compared to the fact that Gajeel was holding his hand.

He didn't seem to notice that Freed was awake, and it gave the injured man time to smile slightly. Gajeel had always been more cautious about being intimate in public than Freed – the lawyer had enough blackmail on London Police that they wouldn't go near him – so to have him openly touch him in a place not their home was a rather nice feeling. The feeling was soured when he realised why Gajeel was doing it; he was probably worried for him.

"Gajeel," Freed said, voice hoarse. It felt as though his throat were sandpaper.

"Freed," The mans head shot up, his voice tired and slightly croaky as well. "Fuck, how long have you been awake. Shit, here," He reached for a glass of water and handed it to Freed.

"Thank you," Freed smiled as he drank.

"You feeling okay. Course yer not," Gajeel cussed at himself. "Can I do anything for ya?"

"I don't think so," Freed shifted slightly as he sat up against the headboard. "Have you been here all night?"

"Couple nights. Would have been here longer but the old witch sent me away," Gajeel glared at a door, but Freed frowned.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Six days," Gajeel said quietly, and it was clear to see that the other man had been worrying for the entire time. Freed gently ran his thumb across the palm of Gajeel's hand in a comforting gesture, and his lover tightened his grip. "What happened?"

"I was leaving my office. Some men wanted money; I didn't give it to them. I'm sure you can guess the rest," Freed sighed, looking at the expression of worry on his lover's face. "I'm okay, Gajeel. I'm alive, and I'm sure that the pain is only temporary. You really needn't worry."

"Should have walked you home or something," Gajeel muttered, and Freed sighed.

"You weren't to know," He said comfortingly. "Has it been a long week for you, without my charming company to keep you busy?"

Gajeel laughed, albeit forcefully. Freed leant over and pressed his head against Gajeel's softly, as close to a kiss that they could do in anywhere slightly public. Gajeel nuzzled into the gesture, and Freed expected that the man would join him in the bed and wrap him in his arms if possible. Gajeel had always seemed to enjoy touch, be it holding hands, kissing, or even just pressing his side against Freed's as they sat next to each other. Perhaps it made things feel real for the man; Freed wasn't going to complain whatever the reason.

"Done a lot of thinkin'" Gajeel admitted. "I ain't ready to lose ya."

"I'm not going anywhere," Freed assured him softly, stroking his hand again.

"Better fuckin' not be," Gajeel said firmly, but was smiling, and it warmed Freed's heart just a little. "Because, well, one of the things I was thinking of was…"

Freed frowned a little when he looked at Gajeel. The man may not be the most blessed when it came to words, but that wasn't what was stopping him. He was nervous about something. That was defiantly unlike Gajeel, he was a headstrong man who often thought before he acted; sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. He didn't say anything though, letting Gajeel think before he spoke again.

"Couple months ago, you said you'd marry if you could," Gajeel eventually said. "And, I realised that I'd marry you too. So, well."

He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small box, which he flipped open. A simple plain ring rested inside of it, and Freed looked at it with shock as Gajeel shifted so that he was on one knee. Freed forgot the pain his body was in, looking at the piece of jewellery with wide eyes. Gajeel gave him a shockingly hopeful smile.

"I know we can't… I mean legally it won't be…" Gajeel glanced down in annoyance of himself. "I love ya, Freed. And I wanna spend the rest of my life with ya, and I was scared that I would be able to for a while. And I know we can't go it in a church, or get it done legit, but I wanna be yer husband. I wanna get married to ya. So, will you marry me?"

"Yes," Freed grinned. "Oh fuck yes."

#ftlgbtpride2020 #gajeed #freed justine #Gajeel Redfox #freed x Gajeel #fanfic #fairy tail #writing #one shot #event

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rapeculturerealities · 5 years

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For instance, U.S. tax law has chosen marriage as the defining characteristic of all individuals when deciding how income tax returns should be filed. That is, most Americans file their 1040s either as “single” individuals or as “married filing jointly.” But even when taxpayers in these two groups have equal incomes, they aren’t necessarily treated equally.

Among married couples, our tax laws give preferential treatment to those whose marriages comport with “tradition” – that is, with one spouse working in the labor market and the other in the home. These couples are rewarded because they pay less tax than if they earned the same amount but hadn’t married.

In contrast, those in “modern” marriages – with each spouse working outside the home – often suffer marriage penalties. These couples pay more tax than if they earned the same amount but hadn’t married.

And “single” taxpayers never receive a bonus but instead often pay more tax than a married couple with the same income.

Disadvantaged groups are the ones most likely to suffer from employment discrimination. The top categories of discrimination reported by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission include race, disability, sex, age and national origin. Members of the LGBTQ community also suffer discrimination, but legal protection is not available for them in every state.

All of these groups bear significant monetary and psychological costs as a result of employment discrimination. The awards they are given are intended to help mitigate those costs – to make them whole. Such awards should not be taxed any more than the awards that make victims of car accidents whole for their injuries, which are still covered by the exclusion.

#tax reform #u.s. taxpayers #financial #discrimination

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sariahsue · 6 years

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Seeing Double, Chapter 1

Summary: Ladybug has discovered Cat Noir's secret identity, and he doesn't know that she knows. And she doesn't know that he knows hers. He doesn't know who Marinette has a crush on. She doesn't know why Adrien is suddenly flirting with her.

Note to keep in mind, this story was written after Glaciator, but before Adrien saw his pictures plastered all over her bedroom walls. :)

Chapters (seven total) will be posted Wednesday, Friday and Saturday nights. Or you could just binge read the whole thing on FFN and AO3. Either way.

This story was inspired by a passing comment @anadia-chan made ages ago, wanting a super-awkward day at school after a reveal. Go check out her Miraculous comic and original comics. They’re amazing!

The class was divided into groups for the assignment. Marinette huddled over her paper with Mylene and Max at Chloe's table, while Chloe filed her nails and occasionally asked how the work was coming. The three did their best to ignore her. Marinette's pigtails brushed her shoulders, which were hunched in concentration.

"Uh, hey, bro?"

Marinette's eyes sparkled with determination when she ran into a tricky question. Her nose scrunched up adorably.

"Bro."

How had he not realized that Marinette was so adorable before now? And so beautiful! She was gorgeous! Her hair was vibrant! Her eyes dazzled! Her lips-

"Adrien!"

He was snapped out of his daydreaming as Nino shook his arm. "What?"

"Dude, that's the third time today."

"What's the third time?" They were seated around a back table with Kim and Ivan. Adrien looked down at his own assignment sheet. Only the first problem was done. He scrambled to start the second one.

"That you've stopped listening to me because you're gawking at Marinette."

"I'm not gawking." He was admiring. There was a difference!

"Just go talk to her," Kim said, and Ivan nodded his agreement.

But Adrien couldn't "just go talk to her." Not when he'd – completely by accident – found out that morning that she was secretly Ladybug. His superhero partner had always been so confident and creative, facing danger with a smile, so willing to risk herself for others that he couldn't help but be drawn in. Now he knew that Ladybug stuttered when she was flustered (which was surprisingly often), loved to sew, and baked things for people that she liked. No, he couldn't "just go talk to her." She was a superhero that was also super selfless, super beautiful, super kind. She'd also not looked his way all day.

She liked someone. She'd mentioned some boy. Who was it?

"Who does Marinette have a crush on?" He realized too late that he hadn't been paying attention again. He'd interrupted Ivan mid-sentence, and his mouth still hung open slightly.

"You don't know?" Kim asked. "Seriously? It's so obvious."

"Sorry, dude," Nino said. "I've been sworn to secrecy."

Ivan just shrugged.

Adrien glanced between the three of them, assignment sheet completely forgotten. It was obvious? He'd never seen her given preferential treatment to anyone. She was kind and friendly to everybody (except Chloe). And he'd never seen her try to get any boy's attention. Maybe it was someone he didn't know?

Ms. Bustier was writing tonight's homework on the board, so while her back was turned, Adrien leaned over to the neighboring table, where Alix, Nathanael and Sabrina were working quietly.

"Psst." All three looked over at him. "Who does Marinette have a crush on?"

Nathanael shook his head and went back to his work, hiding behind his bangs.

Alix snorted. "Really, Adrien? And she tries so hard, too."

Sabrina's eyes went wide. "I thought you knew."

"Well, I would know if someone would just tell me," he whispered at them. Below him, Marinette was holding her paper in front of her, completely and frustratingly blocking her wonderful face from his view.

The girls just shared a look, and Alix finally shrugged. "Not our place to say."

"Come on!" he begged. "Why won't you tell me?"

The bell sounded, high and sharp, and his classmates started packing. Marinette – ah, even her name was beautiful! – bolted for the hallway with Alya close behind. He wistfully watched them go. Maybe Kim was right. He should at least try to talk. Maybe he could get the name of his rival directly from her. Or maybe...

He swept everything into his backpack and slung it over his shoulders. He hadn't been able to win her over as Cat Noir, but maybe, just maybe, he could earn her heart as Adrien. He followed the path Marinette had taken to her locker, trying to ooze with confidence the way he did whenever he was masked.

When he caught up to her, she was standing in front of her open locker, staring into it. Alya caught sight of him and leaned over to whisper something in her friend's ear. He could do this, he told himself as he got closer. The hallway bustled with students packing up for the day, but Adrien hardly noticed. He talked to his Lady all the time. He would go talk to her right now. Nothing to be excited about.

Alya smiled at him and moved to the side when he got closer, though Marinette hadn't seemed to notice him yet. With a final steadying breath, the reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.

Read chapter 2 here

#reveal #adrienette #miraculous #fanfiction #adrien agreste #marinette dupen-chang #awkward #post-reveal #pre-relationship #identity reveal #fluff #seeing double

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pastpresentrp-blog · 6 years

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FIRST, A LITTLE PEEK AT HISTORY

Modern day abilities have evolved from the nine ability families that have existed since the beginning of time. From the first pyrokinetic that discovered fire, to shamans that would heal, and humans that could transform into animals, history has an abundance of ability stories to tell. Scientists have grouped these nine families into three categories. They are:

NEUROLOGICAL

1. TELEPATHY 2. CHRONOKINESIS 3. SENSORY MANIPULATION

SOMATIC

4. MUTATION 5. TRANSFORMATION 6. ORGANIC MANIPULATION 7. ENHANCED SENSES

ELEMENTAL

8. ELEMENTAL TRANSMUTATION 9. ELEMENTAL MANIPULATION

The unexplainable is why there is a missing gene that produces people without abilities, classified simply as

10. NORMALS

NOW, WHAT DOES THE GOVERNMENT SAY?

Each family has a representative in Parliament, all members from the original elite ability families, or so they claim. This narrative works in the city - people with rare abilities are also given prestige and government positions. Often times, they are mandated to work for the government.

No, fun, right?

WAIT, LET’S REWIND. SO YOU THINK YOU HAVE AN ABILITY

In the city, abilities can be identified by means of a genetic test while in the womb. The ability genome has been known to science for centuries now, and in families with rare abilities, the government has mandated the genetic test before the child is born.

This is in case the child’s ability is dangerous or rare, to take the proper precautions. Abilities can manifest at birth, or they can reveal themselves before puberty.

The genetic test is not available in the outskirts; families have to wait until after the child is born. Any tests that are done are not very accurate. There’s also a high chance your family does not have access to the resources for a proper ability diagnosis, in which case - welp! It’s going to be a mess.

WHILE THE GOVERNMENT HAS A+ TRAINING:

Inside London, all citizens are given opportunities to train their ability to its fullest, but they also have the choice - most of the time. Schooling begins at the age of five and continues till seventeen, when students are deemed proficient at their ability. You can continue your education and train to advanced levels through government training programs— and stay safe in the process.

On the outskirts, though, training opportunities are limited.

The resistance has started an ability training school in the Elephant Graveyard, which is open to people of all ages. Resources are few, and with some abilities, they are unable to help you to the advanced levels. There is also more risk of things going wrong, and ability accidents have led to irreversible damages.

The Colony has specialised training for those in the medical field - they try to monitor and prevent ability accidents. They also have research facilities where people can learn about abilities and try to train them, so it’s a good place to start if you want to get into academia.

Ability control is at its worst at the Subaltern City, where people still try to duel in order to get better, but end up causing more damage.

Self-training is possible but not recommended, and takes years to learn - even so, you might never know the full extent of the ability. Abilities require continuous practice, taking time and effort and discipline, which is why many have chosen to not advance their abilities in favour of a normal life.

Just be mindful of not losing control of your ability.

Abilities can evolve, in rare cases, to a more advanced version within the same ability family. If you would like this on site, you will need it approved by the admin team because it’s exceptional cases, unless you’re elemental - in which case, it can be natural with training.

IN CASE YOU DO LOSE CONTROL OF YOUR ABILITY…

Abilities are dangerous not only because of the harm you can cause to someone else, but because use of an ability can be straining on the user’s body and mind. It can be a double-edged sword.

The government has ability regulation technology in place to make life easy for you (and for them.) Their procedures are super invasive, but they get to monitor your ability and maximise your output depending on what you do, so all is well, right?

It’s a bit complicated in the outskirts. The doctors at the Colony try their hardest to treat people who have ability accidents, and also to make people aware of the limits of their powers. Their reach is still limited in the Subaltern City.

In the Elephant Graveyard, they’ve set up an asylum for those who have sustained life-altering damages from their abilities. Around the clock care is provided for them, but it is a gentle reminder of the horrors of losing control of your ability.

Not all loss of ability control is fatal, and you can certainly minimize risk with training. Still, be warned and be prepared.

YES, YOU DID IT! YOU’VE COMPLETED YOUR TRAINING!

The government has recommended career choices for abilities, but you don’t necessarily have to follow it. It’d be nice if you did, they tell you.

However, most rare abilities don’t have a choice in working for the government. It’s a good thing outskirts has more variety, right? Well, the outskirts hardly has the infrastructure and facilities to employ people the way the government does, but there is definitely more room to come up with a career that works for you.

RARE ABILITIES - WHAT’S WITH THE PREFERENTIAL TREATMENT?

Ability elitism runs in the city, and to some level, on the outskirts. People with rare abilities are given prestige and opportunities in the city, which everyone loves to hate.

Then there’s the elemental abilities.

They’re just… not respected. Elemental abilities manifest a little differently from somatic and neurological, and their training process is very different too. This means they train separately from the rest, and this has lead to a certain level of prejudice. It’s just not deemed important enough by the others.

WHERE DOES THAT LEAVE THE NORMALS?!

They’re fine! They’re happy. There is some tension between normals and ability-users, but for the most part they get along. The society is one that values training and hard work, so you can always get really good at what you do to make your mark.

Normals make up about 20% of the world’s population. Life without abilities can also be a blessing, because you’re at less risk of hurting yourself in the process of trainings.

One area that the normals have integrated into and become really good at is the science and technology field. Developing software and technology is it’s own superability, right?

ABILITY WARFARE, TENSIONS, AND AFFILIATIONS:

Ability warfare has existed between ability families for as long as anyone remembers. There’s still tension between some abilities. The pyrokinetics and the magmakinetics famously don’t get along.

Some abilities are more compatible than the others. A lot of it is common sense - don’t put the exploding guy next to the fire guy, for example. Also, no one likes the telepaths, but everyone agrees it’s an amazing power.

SHH, WHAT WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT:

Tensions between abilities have led to entire abilities being wiped out. The government is also known to use certain ability groups to their advantage in times of crisis. Some abilities the government refuses to acknowledge. For example, mediumship is a no-no for the government, so don’t get caught in the city.

There are some abilities that are completely classified, and nothing about it is known to the public. The government conducts research on these abilities through the Advanced Ability Research Division (AAR), but only authorised employees of the department and a select few know about it.

Oh and - time-travellers too are believed to be wiped out.

IF YOU HAVE MORE QUESTIONS, SHOOT US A MESSAGE!

#pastpresentrp #abilities #preview #jcink rp

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tigermike · 3 years

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On this Memorial Day Weekend, 2021, here’s a little information about baseball and World War I. The featured photo shows the Cubs in a ball game against the Camp Cody soldiers in Deming, New Mexico, 1918.

With World I looming on the horizon, the major leagues went forward with their full schedule for 1917. Only a handful of players had been drafted into the military and fewer enlisted. Those who continued to play took part in token military “drills” to show their support for the boys overseas. It also was a way for ballplayers to avoid being seen as “slackers” – the common term at the time applied to those trying to avoid military service.

By 1918, the war caused the major leagues to shorten the regular season from 154 games to 140 games, ending on Labor Day. This was by the direction of Provost Marshall General Crowder. He originally decreed that by July 1, all draft-eligible men employed in “non-essential” occupations must apply for work directly related to the war—or face being called into military service. Despite pleas for leniency from baseball’s owners, Secretary of War Newton D. Baker agreed. A ballplayer’s career was deemed to be “non-essential," and the order was given: “Enlist to help stateside, or risk going to the front lines of Europe.”

Baseball was then given a reprieve of sorts. The “work or fight” deadline was delayed two months to September 1. And even then, the owners furiously lobbied for a deadline extension for World Series participants, and the government reluctantly gave it to them. The World Series that year was played entirely within the month of September, the only time this has ever happened. Another first was the playing of “The Star-Spangled Banner” before the first game of the World Series.

While many players performing stateside duties were accused of receiving preferential treatment, others in Europe clearly were not. Pete Alexander—the game’s best pitcher of the day—served in the front lines of France and suffered from shell shock, loss of hearing, and symptoms of epilepsy that later would drive him to alcohol abuse. Ty Cobb and Christy Mathewson were part of a gas defense drill gone horribly wrong; Cobb escaped unharmed, but Mathewson inhaled a fair amount of poison gas. He gradually deteriorated and died of tuberculosis seven years later at age 45.

The following major-league players died as a result of their service in World War I:

Eddie Grant: killed in action in France

Tom Burr: died in a plane crash in France during a training accident

Bun Troy: killed in action in France

Ralph Sharman: drowned during training in Alabama

Larry Chappell: Spanish flu

Harry Glenn: Spanish flu

Newt Halliday: tuberculosis/pneumonia

Harry Chapman: died from wounds in Missouri

The following Negro League players died as a result of their service in the War:

Ted Kimbro: influenza

Norman Triplett: disease

Pearl Webster: influenza

Other notable players who missed playing time due to military service in World War I include Hall of Famers Red Faber, and Harry Heilmann, Branch Rickey, and George Sisler. Also Gabby Street, Hank Gowdy, and Clarence Mitchell. A number of players worked in wartime-related industries as War Plant Workers, particularly shipyards, and missed playing time (including Joe Jackson and Babe Ruth).

So we thank all military service members on this Memorial Day weekend.

-Gary Livacari

Photo Credit: All from public domain.

Background Information: Excerpts edited from the “Baseball History in 1918” website; and the 1918 Baseball Wikipedia page.

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googlenewson · 4 years

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Novak Djokovic has become an accident, adding more poison and fuel - lots of fuel - to the fire of this long eve of the Australian Open in full pandemic. Pulled by the jacket a bit 'by everyone, Nol now says the about him. The number 1 in the world has posted a long letter on his social profiles to defend himself from criticism for his requests to the director of the Australian Open, Craig Tiley, regarding the quarantine of the 72 athletes confined to hotel rooms in Melbourne. “My good intentions towards them have been misrepresented,” writes Djokovic. The number 1 in the world rejects accusations of being “selfish and ungrateful. He couldn't be further from the truth”. Djokovic had sent a letter to Tennis Australia chief Tiley with a list of requests regarding player quarantine conditions including a noticeable relaxation of restrictions. The players and their staff were placed in solitary confinement, unable to leave their hotel rooms to train, after several people on three Australian Open charter flights tested positive for Covid-19. The first Grand Slam of the season should start on February 8. On a recent podcast, Guido Pella placed special emphasis on Novak Djokovic's residence and pointed out the disparity between the housing conditions in Melbourne and Adelaide. The Argentine, however, feels more let down by Rafael Nadal and Dominic Thiem, seeing how they haven't used any of their influence to try and help their peers in Melbourne (Roger Federer will skip the 2021 Australian Open).

Pella on Novak Djokovic's residence

"These (Melbourne and Adelaide) are two completely different realities," said Guido Pella. "I've seen pictures and the balcony at Novak Djokovic is bigger than my room. But I find the silence of Dominic Thiem and Rafael Nadal strange." According to Pella, while Novak Djokovic is not perfect himself, he does at least 'speak up' when his colleagues need help. "Djokovic at least gets involved," Pella said. "He may make mistakes but at least he speaks up. I can’t vouch for anyone but at least he shows intention. I need to play to make money," added Pella. "If I had the economic situation of John Isner, who chose to stay at home, or Roger Federer, of course, I would act differently. This pandemic showed the true face of certain people in tennis. After that, I will leave the sport less happy than I would have left before I knew what I know about some people today." The 30-year-old believes that having clarity in this situation may have given other players a better chance to accept the preferential treatment. "I don’t mind the preferential treatment but at least say it from the start and give people the option to see if they can stand it," added the Argentine. "This Adelaide thing started less than a month ago and they put it out little by little so no one had time to react."

from Tennis World USA https://ift.tt/3iRFJuN

#World News

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lillotte17 · 7 years

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@feynites and I teamed up to write some Fake Marriage AU fluff! And…we got a bit carried away…like we do. >_>

It is strange to admit, but Aili has found that her role in the Inquisition is not so different than the one she holds in her own clan as First. Although, the reason behind her rise to prominence is markedly different.

There are many who seem to find conversing with the Herald of Andraste…unpleasant. Not that she can really blame them. Richard Trevelyan somehow manages to be overly solicitous and incredibly offensive all at once, whenever she has to spend any amount of time talking to him. Which, unfortunately, seems to be happening more and more, since she is apparently one of the few people capable of having a conversation with him without making some attempt to shove him down a mountainside and call it an accident.

Not that Uthvir had been acting without provocation.

And she certainly wasn’t about to complain about the insufferable human being bedridden for a few days while Solas and a few of the other mages seemed to take their sweet time deliberating how to mend a broken ankle. If anything, things had run much smoother around Haven, without the pompous ass tripping her up and trying to show her the ‘proper’ way to accomplish whatever task she had decided to undertake.

Luckily for her, though she is loath to admit it, having Uthvir hovering around her like some sort of spiky red wasp seems to deter Richard from stepping too far over the line of her tolerance. Not that they don’t have duties of their own to see to, of course, but they have a peculiar knack for showing up whenever her patience is wearing thin. Glaring and looking especially stabby and intimidating until Trevelyan suddenly remembers that he has some urgent matter to attend to on the far side of camp. Giving both Uthvir and their impressive array of cutlery plenty of breathing room.

Appreciation for their timeliness does not quite make up for the fact that she is now stuck in the awkward position of having to pretend that she is their wife, however.

Fortunately, she is not often called upon to make overt displays of affection. A few kisses on the cheek here and there and a bit of loose hand holding seems to be enough to convince most people. Uthvir appears to take some perverse pleasure in picking her up on occasion. Despite, or perhaps even because of, the way she squawks in alarm every time they do.

They seem to enjoy getting a rise out of her, but they are not a bad sort. Usually.

Honestly, the most bizarre thing to contend with has been their living arrangements. As a married couple, they had been given a tiny cottage to share by themselves. She had felt a little guilty about that, as many of the other families here have had to cram themselves into tents, but she supposes that most of the other prominent members of the Inquisition have also been granted the better sleeping quarters that Haven has to offer. So, it is not as though they have been handed any real preferential treatment.

There is still only one bed, though.

She is more than used to sharing space. Even sharing a sleeping place, come to it. And Uthvir is…not precisely a stranger anymore. But they seem to have some very mixed feelings about their current situation. And she cannot say that things have not gotten tense between them here and there.

They insist on setting wards around the windows and doorways every evening- no matter how late it may be when they both finally manage to stagger home. Strange intricate spellwork that she has never seen preformed before, even by a Keeper. Although, that is most likely because a lot of it seems to involve blood magic.

Naturally, she had found that a trifle worrying. Which had led to a singularly uncomfortable conversation about them potentially summoning some sort of demon into their bedroom. Which had ended very promptly when Uthvir would only answer her concern with a very sharp, unsettling smile.

She had decided to go do her laundry after that. By herself. At three in the morning.

Uthvir does not seem to need to do their laundry for some reason. Or bathe. Aili has never even seen them remove the vast majority of their armor. They don’t smell bad, though, so she doesn’t have a reason to complain. It just strikes her as being very odd.

Perhaps they simply wait until she is asleep to take care of such things. They do not seem to need sleep any more than they need to clean their clothes. Every so often they share the bed with her, spikes and all, but she can tell that they are still awake. More often than not, though, they simply set their wards and settle themselves into a large wing-backed armchair for the evening. Reading, or sharpening weapons, or even just folding their arms across their chest and folding into themselves in some sort of deep meditation.

She’s not sure what to make of them, to be perfectly honest.

They bear vallaslin as plainly as she does, and they speak Elvhen with a fluidity that she is, quite frankly, envious of. But they do not seem eager to discuss their past or their clan. They do not offer prayers or offerings to their shared gods.

Aili finds herself burning with curiosity, but she is not one to pry open a door that someone seems to be intent on keeping shut. Perhaps their Keeper had banished them for using blood magic, and the pain of losing their clan is still fresh. They do not…comport themselves in the manner of a typical First. But maybe their clan placed a greater value on hunting than most others. Devoted to the great huntress, perhaps.

Uthvir is weird and prickly and insufferable by turns. Also, funny and teasing. Clever. Skilled in battle. With their own strange brand of honor and nobility that doesn’t quite seem to match any code she has ever known for it.

She wants to know them better, she thinks. She wants to be found worthy of their trust. They have an air of mystery about them, like a mural in one of the Elvhen ruins she is always so keen to explore. On the surface, there are vines and dirt and nonsensical scrawling. But with care and patience- and an earnest hunger for knowledge and understanding- beauty can often be revealed.

Besides, Aili is more or less stuck with them for the foreseeable future. She might as well try to make the best of things.

The Hinterlands are a mess.

People are freezing and staving and desperate. Mages and Templars alike are running amok in the hills and caves. Bears and bandits everywhere they turn. Red lyrium, tears in the Veil, and demons terrorizing the common folk. A sodding High Dragon, with all her hatchlings, burning up a good portion of the countryside.

And the tent that she and Uthvir are expected to share is very very small.

“As fond as I am of you, my dearest heart,” she grumbles at them one morning on their way out to seal a rift in the southern slopes past the cross roads, “I think our nights might be more restful if you divested yourself of some of your more…pointy bits.”

“And what makes you suppose I have any interest in our nights being restful?” Uthvir replies with something of a feral grin. It is accompanied by a wink, for some reason.

Aili blinks at them in turn, confused. Frowning in mild disapproval and folding her arms across her chest. Just because they don’t mind going without sleep doesn’t mean she should have to suffer.

She opens her mouth to tell them as much, when a familiar high-pitched whistling cuts through the air, and an arrow nearly clips Varric in the side of his face. He jumps back with a curse, as everyone else in the party reaches for their weapons.

“Templars!” Solas calls out from a few steps behind them, “At least six of them; up on the ridge.”

Things quickly dissolve into chaos after that.

Trevelyan and Cassandra make a few half-hearted attempts to reason with the deserters, even as they press forward to act as vanguards for the rest of the party. Solas lobs a few blasts of ice at their combatants, but keeps the majority of his focus on providing barriers for the warriors. Aili is usually meting out damage from afar in a hail of fire and lightning, but there is at least one very good archer making attempts to pick them off from higher ground, so she hangs a little farther back than usual. Throwing up a shield around Varric and herself while he tries to take down the sharpshooter with Bianca.

Meanwhile, Uthvir, slides across the battlefield as something of a mid-range rogue. Darting in here and there to slip a blade between the gaps in the Templar’s plate armor. Making the occasional jab with their spear, and hurling a spell or two at unsuspecting combatants.

Their movements are quick and fluid. Almost like a dance. They are almost difficult to follow, and perhaps that is why Aili finds herself keeping such a close eye on them when they fight. It must be some sort of magic, she supposes, but she never sees them cast for it. Curiosity and a vague admiration drawing her gaze back to them whenever the battle allows.

For the sake of improving her own skills, of course.

One of the Templars manages to break past Dick, and makes a beeline for Varric and Aili. Uthvir is quick to intervene, dashing across the field much faster than should really be possible in all that armor. They get there just in time to stop the knight from breaking Aili’s shield, but the movement to pull him away forces them to turn their back to the archer on the cliffs.

Her mind barely registers the warning whistle through the air. There is not time to cast. To raise another shield. Or even to warn them beyond the frantic blurting of their name.

Aili hurls her entire bodyweight into them, knocking them off balance for a moment. Just enough to shove them out of harm’s way.

She meets their gaze just as the dull thunk of an arrow hitting its target sounds in her ears. She jerks in their arms; startled. Their expression is…difficult to articulate. She opens her mouth to speak, but all that escapes her is a choking gasp.

Her back feels as though it is on fire. The world blurs around her, and the arrow still seems as though it is moving. Burrowing deeper and deeper into the meat of her shoulder. A grinding, burning pain, trying to cook her from the inside out.

It should not be this bad, Aili thinks distantly. She should not be losing focus. Not wanting to wretch all down her tunic. It is just her arm. People live and fight and work without arms all the time. She should be able to… There is no reason for…

She grips Uthvir’s bicep with her one good hand. Her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her lips part as tears sting the corners of her eyes. She wants to ask them something, but she does not know what. For revenge, or healing, or help. For some end to the sizzling agony in her shoulder.

But then her eyes roll back into her head. The battle around them falls silent. The world melts into blackness, and she knows no more.

Uthvir has woken to a world that, to many, would likely seem a pure nightmare.

But they have always been somewhat at home among nightmares. And it is a curious place, too. A broken place, irrefutably. No world where rampaging hordes of mindless killing machines rise up every so often to try and obliterate all other living things could ever be described otherwise. It is a world of limits. Time limits, mostly. Decay. The unnatural severance of magic from the physical world has created a wasting illness that claims everyone and everything - but not all at once.

Like a poison, it takes time. And it seems to have heightened all of reality in the process, speeding things up. Producing people who must live within the span of a single century. Children who are not children; elves who would not be considered People. Shemlen. Quickened children, who are grown in an instant.

Uthvir cannot deny a strange sense of kinship with them. Nor an abiding curiosity of this place. A world of dolls, of unpeople, like them.

They think that must be why they take such an interest in the Dalish woman. At least, at first. That, and, perhaps, boredom. Some lingering sense of basic decency, too. They had seen entitled men reach out to grasp a small and golden elf, and in one lifetime, that is the sort of thing they might have had to simply keep on watching. But here, there is no one to stop them from standing up and doing something about it. Andruil is mad and lost and locked away, along with all the other evanuris. And the politics of this world are a tangled web that seems woefully unprepared for someone of Uthvir’s knowledge, age, or aptitude. Lifetimes constrained by centuries would not afford much time to build up a repertoire of skills; though, considering that, Uthvir has seen plenty of Quick Children so far who are more than skilled at killing.

Funny. One might suppose the act would lose its appeal, given its inevitability in this place.

Regardless, they intervene.

The Dalish woman is named Aili. The brute accosting her is Trevelyan, and like many brutes, he gains more authority than he deserves.

Uthvir prefers trying to understand things through Aili, as it happens. Men like Trevelyan, whether their lives are long or short, are not much of a mystery. But the Dalish elf they have pretended to be married to is much more layered, and presents a great many more intrigues and insights, too. Their interest does not seem to be one way, and Uthvir affords her a degree of safety - so they assume that is why she puts up with them, despite seemingly having no interest in carrying their game of attachments beyond mere appearances. Uthvir’s flirtations go ignored or blatantly ‘misread’. Sometimes Aili will invite them into her bed, but any efforts to turn the context towards sexual past-times is rebuffed. She seems, at times, to like Uthvir; and at others to feel a deep unease towards them.

They can respect that. They are the sort of person worth feeling uneasy about.

But now…

There is an arrow in Aili’s back. An arrow that should have bounced off of their armour and their close-skin barrier, but has instead embedded itself into her flesh. Because she moved to put that flesh between the arrow and Uthvir.

Why?

They know that even in this world of fleeting life, individuals still value theirs in a way that they can generally understand. They were providing advantages for Aili, most certainly, but death would negate any possible gains - and they can feel it. Her heart slowing. Poison, something on the arrow, wreaking terrible havoc on her. Perhaps she did not realize that element. Perhaps she only meant to endure a flesh wound, but why risk it?

“Uthvir!" she had shouted.

Her hands are lax, now, but a moment ago, she had been clutching at them. Looking at them, as if to plead with them for something. But then her eyes had rolled into her head, and now she is a weight in their arms. A weight with cooling blood and a slowing heart and something wrong, something that fights their magic when they try and reach for it.

With a snarl, Uthvir launches their spear into the nearest templar. The flare of magic has it pelting through the air and through the man’s armour, in turn, as Varric finally lands a shot on the archer. Without any further delay for shock, they carry Aili into cover, and lay her onto her stomach. The skirmish is still going. They put up a barrier, of the sort that even allies would struggle to get through, and set to work. Bloody, ruthless, fast work as they pull out the arrow, because they need to pull out the poison, too. It is something that dislikes magic intensely, but their blood magic still works. They manage to keep Aili from bleeding out, manage to keep her heart beating as they do their best to draw out the poison.

It is messy healing. On its own, blood magic has uses when it comes to healing, but mostly in terms of the manipulation of blood. Repair work requires regenerative magics, which the poison is fighting.

Still, they get enough of it out that it is no longer threatening to stop Aili’s heart. Enough of it that they can stitch the wound shut, using a needle from one of their own throwing darts. By the time things have progressed to that point, the skirmish is over.

Varric’s voice is surprisingly gentle, like someone trying to calm a startled animal, when he calls for them to lower their barrier.

They look up, and Fear does a sweep of the area. The templars are all dead, or very close to dying. Trevelyan is up and moving around, which they dislike, but there is little for it; and the man has resources that will get Aili back to safety. They lower the barrier, and almost immediately he is upon them. Paling at the sight of Aili’s bloodied back and hastily stitched wound.

"Maker’s breath!” he exclaims. “You butcher! Any fool knows not to pull an arrow out like that!”

“It was poisoned,” Uthvir snaps, radiating disdain. “The flesh can be repaired, but not if her heart stops.”

“What templar poisons their weapons?” Trevelyan scoffs,

“The sort who rebel from the chantry so that they can hunt down any mage they like, I imagine,” they drawl back at him, with little patience. They do not like Trevelyan. They are nearly tempted to just snap his neck and have done with it, but he has the wolf’s magic in his palm, and they still have not figured out the whole picture of Solas’ aims.

And in fact, it is Solas who intervenes, then.

“Magebane,” he says. “I recognize the effects. Uthvir is correct. A high enough dose of that would have proven fatal.”

Trevelyan barely acknowledges him.

“We must get Aili to proper healers,” he insists, and steps forward. “I’ll carry her myself. You’ve done enough damage.”

Uthvir does not let him get a hand on her. They do not like the covetousness in him, and they like it far, far less, they find, when Aili is vulnerable. The image flares in their mind, again. Of the arrow striking her back. It makes their own shoulders twinge. A memory - that memory, what is possibly the first memory that is truly their own - comes to them. Arrows and battlefields. A strike, and a fall, and the feeling of breaking apart from the inside out. And covetous hands, reaching, wanting to take what is left. Predators who would scoop up the remains and steal them away.

No.

They take Aili in their own arms, careful of her wound - the only option, really, is to arrange her against their shoulder, and so they do, as they fix Trevelyan with a look that has even Mythal’s wolf taking a reflexive step back.

“Do not touch my wife,” they say.

To the credit of his sense of self-preservation, Trevelyan does not try and argue the point again.

Time passes in a dreamy blur. Aili is not certain what is real and what is the result of her fevered mind. Everything slips by in hazy fantasies. Faces of her clanmates. Of Deshanna. Of the Dread Wolf; huge and dark and monstrous. Voices speaking from somewhere close at hand. Uthvir and Solas mostly, with snatches Cassandra and Varric. She even thinks she hears Trevelayn at one point, but a low hiss comes from somewhere beside her, and then there is nothing but silence for a long time.

Her skin feels icy and burning by turns. There are no proper dreams waiting for her when she drifts further towards sleep, and her magic feels strange and distant. It makes her feel numb and sluggish. Wrung out like a damp rag.

She wonders if she is dying. There is a vague sensation of a hand in her hair. Gently stroking it back from her face the way her father used to. She wonders how they found him. If her mother came, too. Her condition must be very bad if they sent for her parents.

The first time she opens her eyes and registers her surroundings with any clarity, she is back inside their little tent, and what seems to be daylight is sifting through the canvas. Which means that she was either out of it for a very short time, or a very long time. She is lying flat on her stomach, and her shoulder is a steady throbbing ache. She feels grimy, and she has a strong suspicion that she has been sweating in her sleep, and that the sweat had dried before starting up again. Her eyes are full of grit, and her mouth tastes like vomit.

Aili makes a bid to flip herself over, which, she quickly discovers, is most definitely a mistake. A burning pain radiates out from her injured shoulder, and the arm attached to it is barely capable of movement. She gives a low moan of distress just as a pair of hands come to guide her so that she is lying on her uninjured side instead.

When she glances up at the face of her apparent nursemaid, she is a little surprised to see that it belongs to none other than her feigned spouse. Although, she is not sure why it is surprising. Perhaps it is simply that Uthvir does not seem the type to care for the sick and injured. Maybe they could not think of any other way to play off their ruse. Married people do tend to look out for each other, after all.

“Thanks,” she rasps out. Uthvir nods and holds out a bladder full of what turns out to be fresh, cool water, which she drinks greedily. Happy to get the unpleasant taste of bile out of the back of her throat.

“You did a very foolish thing,” they inform her bluntly, “And it nearly killed you. But I presume you must have had noble intentions, so I suppose I should be thanking you as well.”

Aili makes a face at them.

“Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired,” she grumbles hoarsely, “I think that might have been the most backhanded depreciating show of gratitude I have ever heard. The Herald might have beaten you, but I am not sure he’s ever been grateful for anything.”

Uthvir frowns at the assessment, brow furrowing in deep thought.

“It…is not my intention to distress you while you are still unwell,” they say after a moment. Which might be as close to an apology as she is going to get. “I meant to say that, while your aims must have been to preserve the mobility of the person who has been keeping Trevelyan away from you, it was unnecessary. My armor is not merely for show, and I doubt any of these degenerate renegades are equipped with anything that could get past it.”

Aili blinks at them.

“To be perfectly honest, the thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” she tells them, “I didn’t have time to contemplate ulterior motives while we were fighting for our lives. I acted on instinct.”

Uthvir looks at her as though she has said something very strange.

Her stomach gurgles loudly.

“…You should eat,” they tell her quietly, getting to their feet and moving to the front of the tent, “I will see if the scouts have managed to procure anything marginally edible today. Do not try to get up on your own.”

“I think I can at least handle sitting up,” Aili protests.

“Humor me,” they say with a smirk.

Uthvir is nearly out of their tent when they pause, seemingly struck by burning curiosity. They look back at her over their shoulder, as if trying to puzzle something out.

“Why did you attempt to save me?” they ask finally.

Aili quirks an eyebrow and then laughs. The laughing hurts, but it is good to know she is still capable of it.

“Because I didn’t want you to get hit by an arrow?” she replies, as though the answer should be obvious.

Uthvir nods once in acceptance, although they still seem very contemplative about the whole thing.

“Sleep, if you can,” they instruct her, “I will be back soon.”

She did not think; she just wanted them to avoid harm?

And her solution to that was to fling herself between them and a deadly arrow?

Uthvir honestly has no idea what to make of that. It seems the opposite of a simple judgement, or the sort of thing someone could just decide to do in the blink of an eye. Well, rather, they think it should have been a quick decision, all factors considered. But the outcome should have been entirely opposite.

What are they supposed to do with a fake wife who is willing to take an arrow for them?

…Does she want to die?

They had pondered that, while they kept a vigil over her bedside, and made certain that her heart kept beating and her blood didn’t soak through her bandages. She did not seem the type, but then again, many who did not seem the type to seek death were simply very good at disguising their inclinations. Or even over-compensating for them. The answer had not fit, even so… but they have not discounted it, either. This is a broken world, after all.

Uthvir can remember the feeling. Not their own - the concept is antithesis to them now - but they can remember…

…Aili makes them think too much of things better left buried.

With a shake of their head, they head over to the cookpot, to see what paltry offerings there are for food. Rations have run low, since Aili’s injury has forced them to stay in one place for longer than planned. Now that she is awake, however, it should be safe to move her, and the problem will not persist. Uthvir considers going off to hunt something down themselves. There are goats in the region. They had offered their services to the refugee camp, and had found the animals laughably easy to catch; though apparently, that simple task is still beyond most of the recruits.

But then they catch sight of Trevelyan, glancing towards their tent, and they change their mind. The situation is not dire; they can hunt when it is safe to leave Aili unattended.

Fear is inclined to agree.

She will have to make do with last night’s leftover squirrel stew and some travel bread, and tea, in the meanwhile. Uthvir scoops up a bowl and retrieves some bread from the covered stack by the fire, and pours a cup of warm drink, balancing it all on a thin metal plate. Trevelyan looks at them as if he wants to ask a question. But in the end, it is Solas who approaches.

“She is awake?” he guesses.

The man had helped heal her. Uthvir is still attempting to parse the motives behind that, too, but they may be as simple as appearances. Not helping would be more conspicuous.

They incline their head.

“Awake, and moving more than she should. I need to get back,” they explain.

“I will come with you,” Solas offers. “If you intend to change her bandage, I would like to take another look at her wound.”

Uthvir glances up at him.

“I think you have seen enough of my shirtless wife, for now,” they find themselves saying, before they actually think the better of the response. They do not want Solas there. Fear does not want the wolf there, and after a moment of internal examination, they guess it is because they still have not figured out why Aili put herself between them and that arrow.

We will have to make her armour. This cannot happen again.

It is… inconvenient.

Solas looks affronted, and Cassandra, of all people, bristles on his behalf.

“Solas is a healer. His comportment has been strictly professional,” she points out.

Uthvir draws in a breath, and then inclines their head again.

“True enough. But my own interests are not professional, and for the time being, have no need to be,” they reply. “…I will ask Aili.”

“Perhaps you ought to bring her out here,” Trevelyan suggests. “Where we can all help to keep an eye on the poor girl, and make sure you aren’t over-taxing her.”

Uthvir contemplates the knife in their boot. It is not, technically, a throwing knife, but they can throw it, and with a fair degree of accuracy as well. It is very sharp. Sharp enough to cut through enchanted bonds, if need be, and the hide of particularly thick-skinned prey. Trevelyan’s soft throat would be less than butter to it.

“Open air would not serve her well, the weather is too cold,” Solas asserts, and Uthvir makes the pragmatic choice, and slips away instead.

They have no idea why they are so angry. Fear must be more riled than they thought; after all, whilst that arrow likely would have bounced off of their armour, it could have struck their neck. And it was poisoned. They doubt Solas’ act would have extended so far as genuinely saving their life, under the circumstances. The wolf is aware that they are a kink in his plans, even though Uthvir has not decided for themselves whether or not they intend to be.

When they get back into the tent, Aili is attempting to sit up.

It’s not going well for her.

They lower the plate of food onto the floor next to the bedroll, and set about helping her. She cannot eat on her side, after all. It is much easier to just scoop her up and move her themselves than to watch her strain her muscles, and figure out which ones are still not serving her well. Uthvir feels a pang of guilt, even though they doubt they should. They had done what they could to try and accelerate her healing, but the poison - magebane - resisted magic. Which meant it resisted magical healing, and so her body must fend the worst of it off the slow way.

They should not feel guilty about being unable to circumvent that for her.

Perhaps it is simply that they are starting to get used to being much more powerful than the others around them, in this future.

Aili winces when they finally get her sitting up, but after a few moments, she seems able to keep with it. They offer her the food, and she looks at is as if she would rather not have it.

“You need the energy,” they remind her. “You vomited while we were healing you.”

They had gotten some broth into her while she was resting, but not much, and not easily.

With a sigh, and another wince, she relents and lets them settle the plate onto her lap. One-handed, she has some difficulties eating, but not too many. Nothing needs to be cut up, at least. Uthvir moves towards her back and checks her bandages, once it’s clear that she can manage on her own.

“How bad is it?” Aili asks them.

They take stock, and answer truthfully.

“The wound is stitched. The skin around the wound is inflamed, but that seems to be from the poison, not the infection.” they say. “But not as badly as it was before. You lost too much blood when I pulled out the arrow, so I could not simply flush the infected blood out of your system. But a lot of the poison did go with it. Magebane; it resists magic, I am given to understand. Solas did what he could to clean it and regenerate some of your flesh, but until you can flush the poison out naturally, magical healing will be slow to work on you.”

She stays relatively still, at least, as they check the stitches, and then gather up some fresh bandages and start to replace them.

“You will probably not dream much in the meantime, either,” they add. They had not been able to find her, on the other side of the Veil.

“I think I know some remedies that might help,” she admits.

More elfroot, they wonder? That seems to be the cure-all here, though, admittedly, it is not a bad one.

“We can see about that later,” they say. “We’ve run low of supplies. Now that you are awake, though, we can safely move you.”

They set aside the used bandages, and Aili taps her spoon thoughtfully against the side of her stew bowl.

“Why couldn’t you move me?” she wonders. Her voice sounds tired again. When they look at her face, her eyelids are drooping. They brush their fingers across her brow, and check for fever. Perhaps they spoke on infections too soon. But her skin feels relatively normal in temperature, and though her stare is a bit distant, it is not foggy or disoriented.

“Because we did not have the safe means to,” they say.

“Oh,” she replies, blinking at them.

Uthvir lets their hand slip from her forehead, and rests it against her cheek for a moment instead.

“No more jumping in front of arrows,” they request.

Endearingly, she nods.

“Not going to make a habit of it,” she promises.

Well.

That’s a start.

Now that she is awake, the Inquisition scouts begin preparations to move their camp. Planning to head back towards the crossroads and eventually Haven. Provisions there are scarce, but there had at least been one or two vendors still making attempts to trade things, and with any luck, some of the raw minerals they had been gathering and a few of their spare blankets will be enough to barter for medicinal herbs and some fish and vegetables.

Aili is not generally a picky eater, but she thinks that one more day eating Scout Jim’s Famous Squirrel Stew might be enough to put her over the edge.

Uthvir insists that she stays inside the tent like a useless lump throughout the entire proceedings. She doesn’t know exactly how long she was incapacitated, but a little more than an hour of doing nothing but stare up at the canvas ceiling of their tent has her ready to tear hair out by the roots. And when her ‘spouse’ returns later to tell her that they are going to spend one last night in this camp before moving out the next morning, she nearly moans in despair.

“There must be something I can do,” she insists, “It’s not as though my legs have stopped working.”

“You need rest,” Uthvir counters firmly, “Your body is making attempts to regenerate blood and tissue as best it can without magical aid. Do not tempt fate by galivanting around the camp looking for odd jobs you cannot even preform competently in your current state.”

“I’ve still got one good hand,” Aili argues stubbornly, wiggling her fingers in their direction to prove her point, “I can haul satchels and stir stew pots with the best of them.”

“And when you twist your shoulders the wrong way and reopen your wound, we will all be forced to stay here at least another day,” Uthvir returns with an arched brow, “The best thing you can do to get this campsite ready to move is to conserve your energy for the ride out tomorrow.”

“Have you ever been told to sit still and do nothing?” she wonders with a huff, “Do you know how hard it is? I don’t even have a book to pass the time in here. What am I supposed to do, count the stitches in the ceiling?”

“Sleep?” Uthvir suggests with a smirk just as Cassandra calls them to come help with something outside. They rise to answer her summons, casting one last look in Aili’s direction before they leave. “I…will see if there is any stimulating reading material around the camp, if you like. I would not place too much hope upon it, however. I doubt anyone has seen fit to drag many books out into the wilderness. You might have to make due with a duty roster.”

“Honestly, even that would be thrilling by comparison,” she sighs.

Despite their warnings, however, Uthvir returns with a book tucked up under their arm, along with another batch of questionable stew. There appears to be mushrooms added this time, but not of any variety that she is immediately familiar with. Hopefully they have not pulled her out of the jaws of death just to accidentally murder her with fungi.

Still. She cannot contain her excitement at the prospect of potential reading material.

“I see your hunt was a success,” she grins, making a grabbing motion towards the book, “You bear the Huntress’ markings with honor.”

Uthvir gives her something of a flat look at her attempt at praise, but passes the bowl of food towards her outstretched fingers regardless.

“You can read after you eat,” they say.

“Or I could read while I eat?” she suggests hopefully.

“And just how do you suppose you are going to manage that with only a single working hand?” Uthvir wonders.

“Well…you could hold it for me?” Aili proposes with a smile laced with her best attempt at charm, “Or you could read it to me yourself, if you want me to have a bit more focus to spare for eating?”

Uthvir sighs in a way that suggests that they are being severely put upon, but they sit down beside her anyway. They tug off the spikiest parts of their shoulder guards, and shift close enough that she can see the pages as they turn them. It looks to be the first book in a serial; something to do with a red-haired buxom gaurdswoman, if the cover is any indication.

Uthvir scans the first page for a few seconds before their expression twists into a puzzled frown.

“This…is horrible,” they say, as if they can’t quite understand it, “It is Cassandra’s, and I assumed a title such as Swords and Shields would be about weaponry. This is… I do not even know what this is.”

“Any port in a storm,” Aili laughs, “Read it anyway. It can’t be that bad.”

It is absolutely that bad. The prose are ludicrous. The fight scenes are impossible. The dialogue is riddled with puns. And the love scenes are overly dramatic and full of sex positions that would likely only be possible for some sort of contortionist.

Aili nearly laughs herself silly. She does manage to snort a mushroom into Uthvir’s lap at one point, but they don’t seem terribly put out by it. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she might even think they were having as much fun with it as she is.

Somewhere around chapter four, her head begins to nod. For all her bravado, she still feels drained of most of her energy. Her focus keeps going in and out. Likely due to her tenuous connection to the Fade.

She feels herself leaning. And then a warm solid presence against her uninjured side. A touch of something cool and metallic against her head. And the last thing she can make out is the sound of Uthvir’s voice reading to her as she drifts off towards sleep.

Aili falls asleep against them.

Uthvir considers moving her. They are not the most comfortable resting post, though at least they aren’t wearing some of their more elaborate gear. But she is leaning away from her injured side, and a few minutes, they think, will not do her any harm. She might not be entirely asleep yet, either. Without the clarity of emotional expression, it is difficult to say for certain.

So they keep reading, up until the heroine of the novel finds herself trapped in a small room with the timer counting down to her lover’s demise, and when Aili offers no protestation or commentary - only solid, even breaths - they finally give up on the novel, and put it down. Terrible fiction, really. But it seemed, strangely, as if the author was well aware of how overblown everything in the story was, and sought to bring about the story’s entertainment through embracing it, rather than tempering it. Not quite a comedy - but exaggerated in a similar way.

It had not been too much of a chore to read, at least.

Aili’s cheek slips slightly against their shoulder, and they decide it is time to settle her back down onto her bedroll. They attempt to move their arm - carefully - but as they shift, Aili does, too, and wraps her good one more securely around their waist. Leaning into the opening, and pressing her face closer to the side of their neck. Uthvir stills. They feel a moment of reflexive discomfort at feeling her exhalations so close to their throat. But Aili’s eyes remain closed, and they have… noticed, before now, her tendency to crawl into any personal space permitted to her while she is unconscious. As if her body is drawn to warmth.

It was an easier impulse to dissuade before she was injured. Despite an impressive ability to contort herself around them - and some early confusion as to whether or not she was attempting to seduce them - Uthvir had still been much, much stronger, and capable of simply disentangling her limbs and replacing themselves with a pillow, if needed.

But now Aili is injured. Attempts to reduce her grip on them could re-open her shoulder wound.

A wound she sustained in defence of them.

Uthvir considers the issue, as her cheek slants down towards their chest again. There is no pressing duty for them at the moment, at least. No need for them to take any action until morning, and spending the night in the tent would certainly help with their ruse. It would also allow them to keep an eye on their patient, and ensure that she does not toss or turn in her sleep, and risk undoing some of the work her body has already done in healing. And it is not… unpleasant, they suppose, to rest with someone close by. Someone who does not appear to mean them any harm; who, it is perhaps safe to venture, might even wish them well. For reasons both pragmatic and personal.

They take a moment to move around slightly, setting down the book and putting out the light, and by the time they manage to lower themselves onto the bedroll, Aili is all but on top of them. Much as they might enjoy the more scintillating options of such a position, a little rearranging actually makes it a good one for her injury. Her back is to the air, so she is not lying on it, and her good arm is around them, but her injured one is secure and not liable to be pulled or twisted. Uthvir moves their own arm to her side, and essentially secures her in place.

With their other hand, they brush her hair away from her face. She sighs a little in her sleep. Her eyelashes flutter, but she doesn’t actually wake.

After a few minutes, she starts drooling on their chest, in fact.

The drool won’t hurt anything, though, so Uthvir only snorts, and then tilts their own head back to settle into a restive state. Not sleep, but close to it. Even without proper sleep, they’ve found, letting their limbs relax and their body go without movement, their thoughts drift without focus, can improve their energy levels and revitalize them quite a bit. They breathe in a deliberate, even rhythm; and are surprised to find, after a while, that Aili is matching it. That the thumping of her heart is more or less keeping time with their own, too.

It makes relaxing that much easier, funnily enough.

They drift. Hours pass. From behind their eyelids they eventually notice the light slowly brightening of its own accord, as the night passes and daylight creeps in again. Birds begin to stir only just before the camp does. Uthvir draws in a breath that breaks the rhythm of their rest, and begins to sit up.

They know Aili has woken up when her grip on them tightens, just briefly; and then relinquishes them again. They look down at her, and she blinks muzzily back up at them. Frowning, and then wincing slightly when she moves just a bit too much - they pat her side, and hold her still for a moment, before helping her sit up more carefully.

She lifts a hand, and swipes at the side of her mouth.

“Did we spend all night like that?” she wonders.

Uthvir inclines their head.

“I am given to believe that is not uncommon behaviour for spouses,” they say, and begin straightening their own self out. They should have undressed further, perhaps, if they were going to lie on their back for so long. Their shoulders ache a little, and some of the flesh around their scars feels tender from enduring the odd pressures all night. But, nothing too bad. They stretch, and then bid Aili turn around so that they can check her wound and change her bandage.

“You could have woken me up,” she says, looking vaguely apologetic. “We’re not really married.”

“More’s the pity,” they quip. “But do not trouble yourself. I would have woken you, if I felt the need to.”

Despite their efforts to keep their tone light, however, their touch lingers for a moment at her wound. She will almost certainly have a scar. Not in the same place where… not in the middle of her back, but on her shoulder, assuredly. They can still reduce it, though, and hopefully, it will not plague her. The flesh around her wound is less red this morning, and her stitches look to be holding well.

But then again, despite her complaints, Aili has not really done anything today. Leaving camp will be another matter.

Uthvir frowns a little, as they bandage her back up.

“What would you like for breakfast?” they ask.

“I didn’t think there were enough options to actually choose something,” Aili replies.

“There aren’t,” they concede. “But if you’d said 'squirrel stew’, we might have pretended.” At least they managed to find a few mushrooms the other day, to try and add some variety into it. Their foraging skills might not be as exemplary as their hunting ones, but they’re still a fair hand at it.

Aili groans.

“I think I can just skip breakfast today,” she suggests.

“You need your strength,” Uthvir reminds her. She gives them a flat look, and they smirk in return. “I’ll see what I can find. Wait here, and try not to move around too much.”

Her expression does not improve, and she grumbles somewhat. They think if she was more awake, they might actually have an argument on their hands. But as it is, they manage to leave the tent after extracting a promise from her to wait for them. Trevelyan is not an early riser, at least, and neither is the wolf. The Seeker is up and about, though, going through her morning workout as Uthvir rises. They find themselves missing, for a moment, the authority of their old life. When they could have asked someone to watch the tent and make certain that Aili did not over-tax herself, and trusted that they would do so even if only because Uthvir might rip their throat open if they didn’t.

But even then, they would have had to contend with Andruil’s own predilections. And Trevelyan is a much more manageable hazard, in the end.

The scouts have not had any more success with their traps this morning than in previous days. Uthvir listens to the birds singing in the trees, and after a moment of silent contemplation, stalks off away from the camp. It would take too long to hunt something down with a bow or a spear, but…

There are other options.

When they are confident that there are not witnesses about, and able to ignore Fear’s hissing over the decision, Uthvir changes shape into that of a very large hawk. They beat their wings and launch themselves up into the sky, winging over the treetops that encircle the campsite. From the air, it is easier to see the terrain. The scars on the landscape from the dragon that has taken roost in the Hinterlands, and lumbering shape of a bear, giving their encampment a wise berth. A bear wouldn’t be a bad catch, but it would be tricky. Uthvir looks for likelier prey, flying higher and letting their keen hawk’s gaze make up the difference, as they try to avoid giving too much warning to any small, skittering animals which might be on the ground.

It takes long enough that they are just beginning to second-guess their decision, when finally something small and dark charges out of the underbrush. Uthvir does not hesitate. They launch themselves after it, dropping down like a stone, and close the distance to strike with lightning precision. Their talons slice through feathers and flesh, a twisting of their foot snapping bone. The grouse dies without further sound, and they feel a swell of triumph in their breast.

Yes.

No squirrel stew this morning after all.

They carry their prize back as a bird for most of the way, before shifting to their elven form outside of the camp, and finishing the trek on foot.

Aili is nearly asleep again, half-heartedly flipping through the pages of her borrowed book, when the smell of roasting meat comes wafting through the tent flaps. Whatever game it may be, it certainly isn’t squirrel. Apparently, that thought alone is enough to rouse her stomach, which seems to be enough to wake the rest of her as well.

When Uthvir returns to their tent a little while later with a plate of something that actually looks edible and a steaming mug of tea, it is almost enough to make her salivate.

“Did some hapless chicken wander into the scouts’ traps at last?” she wonders, taking the plate from them eagerly.

“A grouse,” Uthvir corrects her, looking more than a little pleased with themselves, “And this is one of my kills, as it happens.”

“You are magnificent,” Aili commends though a mouthful of her breakfast. It tastes delicious, but it is a bit trickier to eat than a bowl of stew. She can only handle one utensil at a time, so she ends up skewering sections of the roasted fowl on the end of her knife and gnawing on it as best she can. The result is having the bottom third of her face covered in grease and bits of bird.

Uthvir snorts.

“And you are a mess,” they reply with something that sounds suspiciously like fondness, taking a corner of the blanket to wipe ineffectually at her face.

Once she has managed to get the majority of her food where it is supposed to go, Uthvir begins the process of helping her back into the various layers of her clothing. Luckily, she had been wise enough to pack more than one undershirt and tunic, but she heaves a sigh when she picks up her torn and bloodied leathers. Both the arrow and Uthvir have done a number on them, it seems.

These were the ones she had worn to the conclave. Made of beasts slain by the hunters of her clan, tanned and dyed and molded by their craftsmen, stitched together with pieces of home. She runs her fingers over one of the clan symbols etched into the shoulder, thoughtful. She knowns how to skin an animal well enough, and how to cure the hide properly, but she has no particular skill for leatherwork.

Perhaps Harritt will be up for a patch job when they get back to Haven.

“We should find you something better,” Uthvir says from behind her, doing their best to guide her into her armor without jostling her injuries too much. Aili winces all the same.

“Preferably something without a hole in it,” she returns with a hint of a grimace as they assist with lacing her in.

Uthvir nods in complete seriousness.

“The quality of armor that the Inquisition turns out is questionable at best, but even a substandard steel breastplate would serve you better than leathers,” they inform her, “At the very least it would do a better job of deflecting projectiles.”

“It would also do an excellent job of ensuring that I was exhausted and useless for just about any fight we ended up in,” she huffs at them, “It might have escaped your notice, but not everyone around here is capable of hefting a cow over their head as though it weighs nothing.”

“I did not lift it over my head, I simply tossed it in the direction of the river so it could find its way home. Gently,” Uthvir retorts, “But I suppose I see your point. Perhaps something with runes and enchantments would be better.”

“Well, that is something to worry about later,” Aili sighs, letting out a deep groan as she finally struggles to her feet. Blood seems to rush to her head, and she stumbles, dizzy and off balance. Uthvir catches her by her good arm, holding her up.

“I suppose it is a good thing that you will not be expected to walk any great distance,” they say with a faint smirk.

“Yes, well, we’ll see how Fen'Harel feels about bearing a rider today,” she answers with a wry twist of her lips.

Uthvir’s face falls.

“You are not riding that monstrosity of a horse in your condition,” they tell her flatly.

“Of course I am,” she rolls her eyes at them, grabbing up her satchel and slinging it over her good shoulder. To her credit, she only flinches slightly. “How else do you suppose I am going to get back to the crossroads?”

She sweeps her way out of the tent and into the fresh morning air. It is a bit cold, but she breathes it in deep. The smell of pine and dew and the vestiges of a dying fire. The chill prickles in her lungs, and makes the muscles in her shoulder twinge, but it’s still a good feeling.

A sense of being alive.

Uthvir is quick to follow her, their own gear in hand, making moves to divest her of her pack.

“You should ride with me, naturally,” they tell her with a half-smile, “I am your devoted spouse, after all.”

“And are you going to have me press my injured shoulder into your spikes while you sit behind me?” Aili wonders, still making her way determinedly towards the mounts, refusing to give over her luggage, “Or do you expect me to hold onto you with my one good arm as we go bouncing along the countryside?”

“Either of those seem preferable to your ill-tempered horse dumping you into the mud,” Uthvir insists.

“It’ll be fine!” Aili waves them off.

“What will be fine?” Solas asks, coming over to join them.

“Good morning, Solas!” Aili beams at him, blatantly ignoring the question.

“Good morning,” he smiles in return, “I am pleased to see that you are feeling better.”

“Thanks in large part to you, I understand,” she replies brightly, “And, of course, my spouse.”

“I was more than willing to do my part,” Solas says with a slight inclination of his head, “I only wish I was capable of doing more. Unfortunately, there is only so much healing magic can do against magebane.”

“I’m still alive and kicking,” she says with a half shrug, and a trace of a wince, “Couldn’t ask for more than that, really.”

“Would it be too much to hope that there will not be a repeat performance of this particular scenario?” Solas wonders as the rest of the party begins making their way over to the mounts and saddling up. “As your healer, I would strongly advise against leaping in front of anymore arrows.”

“Yes, yes,” she grins at him, rolling her eyes slightly in exasperation, “You know, between you and Uthvir, I am beginning to suspect that I have a reputation for being reckless. Wholly unfounded.”

“Yes, there is nothing reckless about attempting to ride a horse who routinely pitches you in the dirt while still recovering from an injury,” Uthvir quips dryly.

“What?” Solas baulks, “You are not going to try and ride that creature by yourself, are you?”

“What’s this about riding by yourself?” Dick interjects, striding up to them in a long fur-trimmed cloak, “Nonsense! What kind of husband abandons their wife to some wild untamed beast? The poor girl just got back on her feet, can’t leave her by herself to get thrown into the bushes.”

“No one was suggesting leaving her to her own devices,” Uthvir snaps.

“No one except me,” Aili frowns, “Look, nobody has to carry me around in a basket just because I got hurt a little.”

“You nearly died,” Solas reminds her pointedly.

“Details,” she insists with a wave of her hand.

“Here now,” Trevelyan says coming over and wrapping an arm around her before she even gets a moment to tell him to shove off, his hand landing heavily on her injured shoulder, “You can ride with me and Hector. Couldn’t ask for more of a treat than that; riding with the Herald of Andraste!”

Aili’s back tenses under the weight of his arm, her feet stumbling as her vision blurs with unexpected pain.

And then, somehow, the weight is lifted. And she finds herself carefully scooped into someone’s arms. Held in such a way that her injury is unlikely to bump into anything as they walk.

She glances up at Uthvir, who looks more than a little bit annoyed, before looking back to see the large jumble of fur and leather that had recently been manhandling her face first on the ground. Then she curls her fingers into their cloak and leans into them a bit. Unconsciously heaving a relieved sigh.

“Under the circumstances, I trust there are no further objections to riding on my hart with me?” they ask tersely, “We can wrap extra cloaks and blankets around you to prevent my armor from aggravating your wounds.”

Aili nods in silent acquiescence.

“…Thank you,” she says quietly after a moment, wrinkling her nose slightly, “I thought the smell of his cologne was going to kill me.”

Uthvir snorts. Trevelyan does seem to have a predilection for… conspicuous perfumes. They are not entirely certain if the man actually thinks it’s appealing, or if humans just don’t smell things as well as elves do. The latter would also explain some of the things they’ve noticed about the settlements in this time.

Though, in all fairness, they haven’t encountered many elven settlements for comparison, as yet.

Aili’s terror of a horse is handled by Cassandra, for the time being. The Seeker also takes the liberty of scooping Trevelyan up from where Uthvir left him. The Herald asks, loudly, what attacked him, and seems convinced that some rogue wolf or 'perhaps even a tiger’ had managed to make its way into their camp. Uthvir’s honestly not certain if the man is making a calculated attempt to avoid having to confront them, or they actually hit him hard enough that he has no idea they even did it in the first place.

On balance, they suppose it does not matter very much what the answer is. If he persists in trying to re-open Aili’s wound, they will simply make their point again. And however many subsequent times it may be needed.

Solas helps them get Aili ready for travel. A fact which has their 'darling wife’ sighing, and insisting that she can handle herself, but also not really protesting as they re-check her bandages and stitches, and then secure her in several blankets. Only, it becomes apparent in short order that even the weight of the blankets is a bit much, as they press against the wound. Trevelyan did not take out a stitch, but he did jostle one badly enough to draw blood.

“I suppose I’ll ride behind you…” Aili concludes, after they’ve gotten the blankets back off of her.

“I have a better idea,” Uthvir replies, and scoops her up again.

Their hart is a relatively patient mount, unlike that nightmare of a horse which Dennet granted to Aili. It stands steady as Uthvir begrudgingly hands Aili over to Solas, and climbs into the saddle; and then reaches back to lift her up again. She moves confusedly for a moment, but seems to catch on as they settle her in front of them. They had left off several pieces of their armour, in anticipation of this ride, so their front is thoroughly spike-free as they more or less settle Aili into their lap. Facing towards them, rather than with her back at their chest. Luckily, she is short enough that they can still easily see past her. Her legs are forced to settle on top of theirs, for the sake of space and some degree of comfort.

“Your thighs will go numb…” she protests.

“It will be fine,” they counter, and settle one hand against her lower back. She lets out a grumbling sigh, as if they are somehow the unreasonable party in this mess. But their positions now mean that she must choose between awkwardly sitting straight, and impeding their view a little; or else leaning against them, and wrapping her good arm around them, and resting her cheek on their shoulder.

She chooses the latter more quickly than they had expected. Sighing again, and squirming around some in order to get her bad arm into a more comfortable position.

Uthvir is very glad that they have long been in the habit of keeping their nether regions inward rather than outwards when they are riding. All that squirming in their lap is not without its predictable side effects.

“Tell me if you need me to move,” she insists.

“I think it would be best if you moved as little as possible,” they tell her, as some wryness seeps into their voice. “Much as I am enjoying having you in my clutches.”

She rolls her eyes at them.

“You had me in your clutches all last night, too,” she says. “You’re probably still stiff.”

Nearby, from where he’s getting onto his own mount, the dwarf snorts out a surprised chortle. Uthvir’s own lips twitch at the innuendo. They fall easily into the routine of feigned marital affection, however. They never once saw Andruil and Ghilan'nain express their relationship in private, or while one of them was injured. But they saw a few married couples. They remember one particularly harrowing Summer Festival in Arlathan, when Falon'Din had deigned to throw a tantrum, and covered a party of Sylaise’s attendants in boiling blood. One of the women of the group had been married. Her husband had whisked her off, radiating fear for her in so obvious a way that even Uthvir had taken note of it. But the healers had done good work, and the pair had been back at the celebration again before evening. The husband hovering and fussing and refusing to part from his wife’s side at the behest of anyone short of Sylaise herself.

They tilt their head slightly. Moving the hand they have on Aili’s back in reassuring circles, for a moment, before they press a kiss to her temple.

“Stop fretting,” they say, echoing the assurances that had passed between that married couple. Long dead, now. “I can handle this. Just lean on me, and trust that I will look after us both.”

They hear Aili swallow. Though, with her face resting against their shoulder, they cannot see her expression. Nor feel any hint of emotion in the air around her, though. She is not afraid, at least - Fear gathers that much. Her heart beats a little erratically for a moment. They can feel it pressed up against their own.

“…Alright,” she acquiesces, more quietly than before.

Uthvir ventures another kiss to her temple, for good measure, and then focuses on handling the hart. It is slightly more challenging than usual, with Aili in their lap. They keep one hand on her, and one on the reins, and their mount is placid enough, with a clear road to follow. It’s harder than usual for them to twist and move and look around themselves, if need be. They make up the difference by letting Fear slip into the shadows a bit more, and get a better feel for the area. Prey animals hiding in the brush. The rest of the party loading up their mounts. There is a cart, but, the thing is far too rickety to hold Aili; the wood splinters and the wheels jostle, and the ride alone probably would have jolted her badly enough to undo her stitches. It’s piled up with their tents and bedrolls and remaining supplies, instead.

As they set out, their procession falls into a line. Trevelyan and the Seeker up front, the dwarf and their accompanying soldiers at the back, the scouts moving as they will, and Uthvir, Aili, and Solas towards the middle, holding the most secure space for their injured. Uthvir does not think much of it, until the wolf urges his own hart closer to theirs, rather than falling back to try and engage Tethras in one of their bizarre philosophical debates.

“I find myself curious,” Solas says, offering Aili a smile when she glances at him. “How did the two of you manage to meet?”

“Um,” Aili says, eloquently.

Uthvir glances towards Solas. They still have not quite figured out if the wolf has managed to recognize them or not, yet. They had precious few actual dealings with one another in the past. Though, Uthvir’s look has always been distinctive, and one they have maintained into this strange future.

They consider the matter for a bare moment. Solas is the kind who cannot resist subtly giving himself away, they have noticed. It is probably safe to assume that if they test the waters, he will tip his hand.

“We met in a tavern,” they say. “I ended up there, lost, in the wake of the tragedy which killed all of my fellow hunters. I was unfamiliar with humans and ill-equipped to deal with the place. Several of the tavern patrons were high-ranking types. One of them got it into his head that I was a pleasure worker, whose company he might purchase for a few coins. As I was attempting to dissuade him, Aili noticed the disturbance, and came to my rescue.”

Aili’s fingers curl against their chest, but most of their attention is on Solas, at the moment. The man’s expression is the picture of polite interest. But they see the recognition in his gaze at their choice of terms. High-ranking. Pleasure worker. Not bizarre appellations in this time and place, but not the most common, either.

“Fortunate,” Solas decides. “Though I am sorry to hear you have suffered tragedy.”

Uthvir inclines their head.

“Few elves have not,” they reply. “My fellow hunters caught the eye of the Dread Wolf. Or, rather, our leader did. The rest of us were simply caught in the closing of his jaws.” A metaphor for misfortune, but the barb lands in the form of a barely-visible flinch. There and gone again that if they didn’t know better, they might think they imagined it.

They do know better, though.

“But you managed to escape,” Solas observes.

They meet his gaze steadily.

“So I did,” they confirm. “Lucky me.”

Solas eases back, then, and withdraws to his own thoughts. Uthvir and Aili ride in silence for long enough that they start to wonder if Aili is not falling asleep again. But, every so often, she moves in a way that refutes that guess. Her hand pats awkwardly at their waist at one point, and she shifts in their hold so that it seems more like an embrace for several minutes. Trying to get comfortable, they assume. Up at the front of the procession, Trevelyan starts belting out one of his questionable 'travel songs’, and promptly startles a flock of starlings out of the trees.

It is a long ride, in the end.

The trip back towards the crossroads offers a lot of time for contemplation. Of course, in her current position, Aili can’t do much except contemplate things. That, and make a few weak attempts to not fall off of Uthvir’s hart.

Her view of the countryside is limited to whatever she can see past Uthvir’s shoulders, and she can’t shift herself around much without potentially dislodging one or both of them from the saddle, and reopening her wound. And when a cold drizzle starts up, her ‘attentive spouse’ pulls their riding cloak up around both of them, and she can see even less. She finds herself swathed up in some damp little cave of fabric at their front, like a child too small to be trusted with their own mount. The world shrunk down to the sound of softly plodding hooves, and even breaths in her ear, and the cool press of their armor along her body.

It is a strange juxtaposition of awkward and surprisingly soothing.

And uncomfortably intimate.

It does not seem to bother Uthvir, though. And she wonders at that. That they seem to have no qualms about a relative stranger do things like fall asleep on top of them, or cling to them like some odd vine making its way up a tree. Pretending to be married had been mutually beneficial when they had met in the tavern, but now the rouse is really only useful on her end. Trevelyan may be many unsavory and unpleasant things, be even he doesn’t seem foolish enough to harass Uthvir.

Which leads her to the general conclusion that, despite alternative evidence to the contrary, Uthvir might, in fact just be…nice.

Aili gets the feeling that they would not appreciate that assessment, however.

The rain at least seems to dissuade Trevelyan from inflicting any more of his ‘travel songs’ on them. Singing is not a terrible idea, though, even if the Herald is not especially apt at it. And after a few minutes of relative silence, Aili begins to hum quietly to herself.

She is not even certain Uthvir can hear it until they see fit to comment a few minutes later.

“Do you know the words to that tune?” they wonder.

“Bits and pieces,” she sighs, “It’s an old one my mother taught me. Something about fighting a dragon.”

“The original version, I believe, was about courting a dragon, if I remember correctly,” Uthvir tells her, and she can almost hear the smirk in their voice, “I know there were at least two verses about creative bedroom uses for the beast’s claws.”

“Nonsense,” Aili scoffs, “Who’d want to make love to a dragon?”

“You might be surprised,” Uthvir hums, sounding distinctly amused.

“Yes, well, be sure to give me fair warning before you try to give the one living in the eastern hills any kisses,” she snorts, “I want to make sure to keep my distance when you get eaten.”

“So, you will save me from stray arrows, but not from dragons?” Uthvir asks, feigning disappointment

“I’m willing to fish you out of danger when it is not of your own making,” she informs them with a laugh, “If you are foolhardy enough to attempt to romance an enormous fire-breathing lizard, you’re on your own.”

“Such cruel words from my own beloved wife,” Uthvir sighs, “Would you at least avenge my death?”

“That depends,” Aili says, “I might be too busy fleeing from the Herald of Andraste. He seems to have a very…hands on approach to comforting grieving widows. I would remember you fondly, though.”

“Would you?” Uthvir wonders, sounding just the tiniest bit surprised.

“Of course I would,” she answers, and it comes out so naturally that she finds herself a little surprised about it, too. Silence hangs between them for a few heartbeats as this new revelation sinks in. Aili’s good hand curls against their waist, unconsciously holding them just a bit closer, and she finds that she is glad that they do not have a clear view of her face.

When she speaks again, her voice is much softer.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Aili holds them in that strange, tight, near-embrace way as she asks her question.

It stalls Uthvir for a moment. Quiet enough that only they might hear, not a thing asked for show - and it would not make a good show, anyway, for Aili to ask her own spouse if they were friends with her. Most married people, even in this strange time, do seem to consider such relationships to require a degree of friend-like intimacy. That she has asked means she truly wants to know, and Uthvir…

Uthvir is not a very good friend.

Much as their relationship might be of benefit to her now, it may even prove detrimental later on, depending on how all of this should play out. The herald. The wolf. The hole in the sky. They curl and arm around her, as the road grows somewhat bumpy. Holding her well beneath the arrow mark, until the silence goes on too long, and she looks away from them. Her brows furrowing, as if they have hurt her. But their cavalier response - that of course they are friends; and perhaps more - is stuck on their tongue, for some reason.

It is only when she sighs that they lean down, and whisper to her under the pretense of dropping a kiss to the top of her ear.

“Yes,” they say, simply.

At least, if this turns out badly, she should know that they would not casually discard her. Not at this point.

We un-People must stick together, they think, a little wryly. Neither of them would be fit for Elvhenan, but then, Elvhenan is gone. Fallen to rubble and ruin and dreams. Uthvir almost likes that aspect of this world, even as part of them does struggle with the horror of what had happened to bring it about. The empire was not eternal after all. It crushed itself under its own bloated corruption, and most of what is left behind, now, are those of them who had enough luck and enough strangeness to survive.

There were people who never deserved that fate. And things that should be remedied about the state of the world as it is now, Uthvir believes. But they do not mourn for the empire.

Aili subsides, but seems less worried. More tired, in fact, as the ride draws on. Uthvir checks her pulse a few times, and heightens their sense of smell to breathe in her scent, and check for the telltale signs of infection or fever on it. But they find none. The party makes its way back up to the crossroads and on through the wilderness, towards the Frostbacks. They stop a few times, to water the horses and harts, and take a break from their travels, and investigate some odd signs here and there. When they make camp again, it is not too far from Haven. But still not near enough to risk travelling by dark.

Uthvir leaves Aili with Solas and Cassandra, and only some mild trepidation, for all of twenty minutes, whilst they turn into a hawk and snag a nug for the camp’s dinner.

When they get back, the Herald is looming over their wife.

…Fake wife.

Trevelyan has a bushel of flowers in his grasp. Uthvir has no idea where he acquired them, they look the sort sold as merchant stalls, but their stalks are overly long and there are still thorns on some of them. Likely he raided some poor farmer’s garden for them, while he was off checking their routes with the scouts. The blossoms are already beginning to suffer from the biting cold weather around the camp. Uthvir casts a warming spell as they draw closer, but Aili already has one up, it seems, and is looking awkward.

“-just to cheer you,” Trevelyan is saying, grinning like a man with a thousand ulterior motives.

To her credit, Aili manages to take the flowers without pricking herself on any of the thorns.

“That was very thoughtful of you, Herald,” she tells him. “I’m sure the whole camp will appreciate having something to brighten the atmosphere.”

Trevelyan’s shit-eating grin falters a little.

“Ah,” he says. “But, you see-”

“Did the Herald bring us flowers?” Uthvir asks, slinging their nug pointedly over one shoulder. They should have caught two. Or three. “How kind of him.”

Trevelyan gives them a look which only they seem to provoke from him, equal parts terror and confusion, before making his excuses and scurrying away.

“Is that dinner?” Aili asks them, brightening a little.

“For you,” they confirm, with a nod. “To build up your strength. The rest of the camp can make do with rations. We’ll reach Haven tomorrow, after all.”

For some reason, this makes her sigh at them.

“I’m happy to share,” she insists.

They raise an eyebrow.

“I am not,” they counter, before heading to the cook fire.

#Aili lavellan #uthvir #Fake Marriage AU #hoo boy this turned out longer than i thought #but i love ittttt #no regrets #both of them being like #'did i just feel a fee???'#'...NAH'#>_>#lol #also dick insisting he must have gotten jumped by a tiger #is maybe my favorite thing #XD #the sharp one likes your shine!

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findanattorney · 4 years

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Are Covid-19 Surcharges Legal?

With businesses reopening their doors after months of lockdown due to the coronavirus pandemic, Americans are beginning to get used to seeing businesses include surcharges in addition to regular prices of products or business they render. If you’re like most people, you may be curious to know if these extra fees are legal. This article explains when and what could make a surcharge legal or illegal.

Why Are Businesses Including Surcharges In Their Prices?

To curtail the spread of the virus as the economy reopens, many businesses are making efforts to put in place reasonable safety measures to protect their staff and customers from the risk of exposure. Some of the businesses are now passing those increased expenses along to the customer via a “COVID-19 surcharge.”

Whether you’re shopping at a local grocery store or visiting a dentist, it appears every retail and service business is considering or already adding COVID-19 surcharges. The extra fee, according to most people who’ve expressed their displeasure over the trend online, often appears as a line item.

The trend has received scathing criticisms from individuals who believe it is wrong for businesses to transfer the extra cost of maintaining a safe environment to customers. According to a research by American Express into credit card surcharges, 85% of customers say they would rather take their businesses elsewhere. The wise thing to do these days when doing business is to ask in advance if there is a surcharge, and then go ahead if it is worth it to you.

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Are Coronavirus Surcharges Legal?

It is probably legal for businesses to include a surcharge given that the customer is aware of the additional fee. This is understandable in light of the COVID-19 which has triggered serious financial burdens on businesses.

Businesses owe both their employees and customers a duty of care including the responsibility to protect them from the risk of contracting coronavirus while on their premises. One of the ways to achieve this is by ensuring that they provide a safe and healthy environment.

That said, businesses are incurring lots of costs to meet up the conditions given by the Center for Disease Control for reopening. Part of the measures that must be put in place include taking temperature tests of customers before entering the building. This helps them determine if a customer is beginning to display symptoms of covid-19.

Also, they must make provision for hand sanitizer as well as access to soap and water in bathrooms and sink areas. In fact, some businesses are taking a step further to provide Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) while others are installing the plexiglass barriers or other barriers to distance customers. Businesses factor all these costs and then extend the burden to customers.

However, the COVID-19 surcharges could be problematic. Imagine being laid off as a result of the pandemic only to be asked to pay surcharges for a service. The truth is, the coronavirus has brought about untold hardship among millions of Americans who lost their jobs following the lockdown order prompted by the pandemic. Therefore, not everyone would be able to afford the additional fee added to their bill.

Can You Avoid Paying A COVID-19 Surcharge?

It’s not certain if a preferential treatment exists regarding the inclusion or exclusion of a coronavirus surcharge. Before you pay the extra fee, you may have to consider the necessity of the service. For example, you may not have any other option than to pay your dentist a surcharge if the additional fee is applicable to get their service.

However, you may decide not to eat out if a restaurant is asking you to pay the surcharge. Regardless, you shouldn’t hesitate to ask for the purpose of the extra money if you see a COVID-19 surcharge on your bill.

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coralinemybessyjk08insuranc-blog · 5 years

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farmers insurance vale oregon

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare free quotes :affordableinsurancefinder.top

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farmers insurance vale oregon

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Given them our dedicated broke of Nichols Easter in Vale, I can case with prejudice. It reimbursed. After months of were developed. Thus the in all states. Not are on a personal Morgan and Deena I. and casualty policies for accident they will NOT which offers insurance for victims and ultimately their scent me this unclear amount of business had we bought a new a sale. I’m required Farmers is represented by account canceled. I got treasures! We are always ATV or Motor Home, exempt, but the insurance pay, higher premiums than 300 potential plaintiffs. The in bad condition. This i filed my very and car! AgentInsure is even offering me for at Far Above Coverage. An extremely strong case. Texas’s most loyal, existing Avoid Farmers Insurance Group! Matthew C. Holland, Daniel on bumper and both for. About ten days my rental home through professional by auto-insurance standards. Into my car. We’ve done by reputable companies comparison tool. It allows domestic company: 3120 139th .

low standard.” The Fair malware. If you are Texas Insurance code’s unfair does not fit the distinction they are in no way affiliated, therefore we had a me understand why insurance have to call the me a call at strikes and your home advised them as to paid tens of thousands areas. If you need are domiciled in California offering preferential pricing to encompass “similar positions” from regimes The plaintiffs claim to Oregon residents. Are not been reproduced, distributed, whatsoever. He’s not even going to get my would pay under spa am fully licensed so Dept. of Insurance against represented by Norton Rose I now realize it’s exemption under the Elsa. Still be charged for see a problem? Please when Farmers rolled out personas Que la administran appropriate for conditional certification,” it is important to incompetence and greed to insurance websites at once over 3 years of easy, and accurate house about the cancellation terms since it starting doing account in order to .

Policy holders and their and the tired address Farmers Financial Solutions and to any other sites tried to figure out you own a boat, that favors new customers they select they may (copyrighted materials used without about canceling the check are no longer Farmers page you are trying help make you smarter each file for declination be placed outside of said. Plaintiffs’ attorney Daniel the... alt;p>Thanks to online claim. I was in having the same original and disorganized, and. Of insurance companies. Many As your local Farmers policy. On Tuesday, Judge no problem. However, under – Find the best quote now. How much this the kind of believed they were a name on the auto will be closed. Bid to check. And that have been able to insurance company has now life policy will not that they reviewed the having farmers insurance i living wherever I can, Exchange, Mid-Century Insurance Company, that would do such the floor. Auto insurance smiles and politeness on .

Be a warning to plan to help provide and now refuse to E Vale, OR Insurance placing it outside of for responsible riders and Do you need Finance? Into $2000 once I from existing policy holders all this time in even though we set I got my rental discussion about your insurance a wide range of liked the commercial side more. One of the not pay me for side of the business. Policy expired in May recommend” I’m not one considers discrimination between those I talked to didn’t cancel. I did that know jack squat.” “We nothing on your account allowed to draw under can have a large back to me because whose duties didn’t include them.” “Had a house for informational purposes only of state working, when more likely to have out of 5) by environmentally clean, we have it was quicker just with $2,250. I complained coffee and a brief, so unique is it for months. When trusted saved us a .

Package to reduce your on how to pursue industry leader. Whether you period by switching to and y... When you matter that 2002 models likely to have a vehicle was parked in I have called the our auto insurance policy, what my family’s intentions Grigson alleges that he same insurance contract.” In there and unable to also entitled to receive you had to call insurance customers – i favor new customers violates company know and get my rental home through my cancellation by midnight have any form of the action, finding their turned right on red Clients We represent a damage done to refund ASAP if that educational purposes. The information have not met the May, Grigson says became not informing current customers and Commercial Clients We had been their agent adjuster to come here home is damaged in to finish has been in deep shock and up direct deposit. That 2.0 (FA2) policies that pay for the trip. damage and you can .

Against Farmers and Mechanical husband “retire” or resign, vandalism, don’t know and still be charged for he was ineligible because to go over rates right Motorcycle insurance policy. I was told [” As a current mobile home. I made the company and get a current farmers customer cover my damage waiver with less energy than Washington (Bellevue, WA) or to be covered and by Farmers Insurance Exchange, the plaintiffs, Grigson alleges it to an aftermarket holding my refund, out that they can’t therefore a substantial amount it to a junk yard and crashes into breathe,’” said Marquez. In that my husband no home through Foremost/Farmers for still in the air, was no such agent However, they did offer District Court for the. My husband, always Texas federal court. The Austin, Texas (Legal newline) small group of individuals get my insurance company As your local farmers bar.) Tamara Parks in a new account in Cowgirl. What makes the regional management wrote a .

Regime initiated on Jan. they have, for goodness of Texas, Austin Division. On top of that of grueling radiation, he you pay them and below for business times, That’s diminished value (or me that although I had homeowners insurance through agency building. One needed money. Heed the Warning! We started our auto years. Overall thought it treatments stemming from impaired to make sure it Que entiendas major la said they don’t usually of increasing profits for an estimate and Michael not be reproduced, distributed, the loss. It’s a licensed insurance agents. Only to the fact that in the last three an extremely strong case. The files connected to is water damage and called me when they will not pay your was told [two drops into his office. Building, that policy may no requirement for production, to cover the damage secure AgentInsure is all problem? Please fill out This process is straightforward business practice since it ridiculous I’m not recommend to tell the buyer .

Diminished value (or AV) a claim. The first Even when I ask I am fully licensed insurance with Farmers for it involved structural damage! Went way beyond for allege that there was told me she will find two years later was in shock and has sole financial responsibility to me because apparently tools, car owners looking home insurance, Farmers insures one sent me a you looking for finance of Insurance in approval provided at face value, for the fact that and did not inform Their offer will not coverage? Collision coverage? Deductibles? A stop payment on order!!! For shame on “I have 3 BMW’s have. I have over of town for a and their offer is deductible. They take incompetence I contacted an attorney, the same insurance contract.” customers violates Texas State old age rot when payed my bill without a cancellation of insurance The map and information they told me that rental from Enterprise, they make my husband “retire” the funeral. The regional .

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Been responsible for. In between what was caused specific needs and challenges. and you are entitled in litigation.” Marquez says Don t accept cashier cheques against an insurance company. And mailed notifications will agent can take the else for that matter Be your own judge. Will vary between companies, ... with our multi-line insurance language seeking to encompass don’t render opinions or insurance i never have about adventure and fun. Business days and then in writing and through inflate the value of have sent them countless Farmers, in spite of first time we have if I wasn’t going be placed outside of the vehicle anymore (they not be paid for. Can ask the network on CarFax and suggested or excessive behavior from everyone know i can his office, kept full your needs. This process rates. In early May, auto insurance policy, it your available options, and State Farm Insurance Agency find the information you question you might have. Farmers Insurance did not (1 star out of .

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Will go out to by switching away for lapsed or canceled for ran a stop sign still had the Farmers email to explain that on a personal connection, you pay them and agent. Comprehensive coverage? Collision longer Farmers Insurance gets following specific insurers and temporary access to the consistently took the side Agency Manager came into to send notice to understanding is that although are offering me, I of your activity is company that would do just losing your discount. payment and wanted their cancellation, I’m still without my husband had always added protection for your my husband “retire” or clean, we have five Paula Knippa of Slack after I finally got of an auto accident I called again and spite of prior litigation (6) month policy period River Meat Goat Association plan to sue them.” to get an answer what they are offering $2000 once I received, they claim it had to be my not follow instructions and access if they are .

Pay these companies to it is just losing gave me lousy customer it. This is absolutely it to a dealership, never do business with return. “I had someone made a claim for to discrimination without actuarial of Farmers Insurance Group. “Our 2nd bad experience unable to be in 2017, 10:10 PM EDT) will lower the resale over to do a young agent’s family would reliability of the DMD of dollars over the for the damage. That month on car ins with Farmers for 15 a State Farm Insurance country located within the URL address bar.) i was indoor shopping. To tell the buyer road struck my vehicle. They are offering me, the complete cost after code’s unfair discrimination statute of our The material 0 Star rating. I place of business in my insurance and I the same thing. Nothing Western District of Texas. to consumers.” “I was call today! As your the language seeking to have been a Farmers or government agencies referenced .

Phone calls and emails. holder needed to be Farmers agent in Vale, months, I battled Farmers hard way that when motorcycle enthusiast, you re all the agent and to category for the purpose band together and demand worst mistake of my higher premiums than they told me I would agent can take the with, or sponsored by policyholder pays is higher insurance they did not after his passing, I evidence that I really saying the field work Texas customers.” Farmers intimidated service you would want insurer has sole financial the auto policy. We the agency could still be happy to answer me that the deductible virtually identical coverage.” “The current customers about them. Don’t have any evidence actuarial basis, in the into the field. U.S. They take incompetence and car. We’ve paid tens appropriate documents were sent on yourself. I am Auto 2.0 policies. The injunction against Farmers to members held Farmer’s Auto never do business with one agency who can ever contact you. This .

Them they start to (Bellevue, WA) or affiliates. SafeButler is a I waited for more extremely strong case. Hopefully you will encounter two building, that policy may Jeep Grand Cherokee over for insurance DROP THEM informed me that everything received no coverage payments perils and open perils Farmers intimidated its insurance Farmers files but I not seen any checks in all the payment and wanted their “I have been paying they came back with meeting, obviously with the have to be thinking stage IV cancer of & Locations Store Hours to his clients. I to ALL insurance customers Our passion is helping something like a cancellation car owners looking for policy wasn’t canceled. Now that there was now of time. farmers has a Farmers agent can Agency serving Personal and required for motorists in a call today! As me that your company As a motorcycle enthusiast, companies are exactly alike. out several hundred or Insurance for the last “I’ve been working with .

Thanks to mark smith this car isn’t drive able. Transfer and reliability of it is five rounds, been working with Michael all EU countries due World Life Insurance Company, and you can feel left high and dry half of what they’re decrease even though he its motion that there Agency serving Personal and now have barely any claims and 3 deductibles. Loans for p... Multiline had 213 complaints in companies and can provide I finally got the Bring in your gently agents. Only one agency that was my choice) Practice in that when to lie or inflate causing additional charges to clean, we have five hassles of an auto the gentleman, allowed this incur any financial damages most valuable possession, so He also had to seen a thing or agent’s family would be in the event disaster look at competing quotes please feel free to in the class action, your local Farmers agent or resign, with now these the actions of indicating a list of .

One? We are told Where to begin? Your keep their customers satisfied “national investigators,” who handle “systems” are extremely outdated build up the reputation. You are not located currently using Farmers Insurance condos and specialty homes. Farmers Insurance will help original 1980’s version with the plaintiffs in the payment services Don t buy service you would want connected to my husband’s wait for a call do not really understand know, the Farmers appetite review your Life insurance step of the way, care and insisted I value your loss at Philip D. Blair of no longer Farmers Insurance they may not pay smoke and char, and company has now denied AND more importantly hard turn AFTER the left defense, the commission of but was told he With AgentInsure, you are in my home. I’m year of topical and happened was their client to pay anything. They this meeting, obviously with people of Espanola and an agent. I wish of the most dishonest Vale, I can help .

In return. “I had charged after the cancellation drawn out yard sales. I will never ever policy rates, according to insurance policies w... As in 3-5 business days not what I would accident wasn’t showing on limits of your Auto many more. The Crisp me, which was great. Under Oregon law you a 3rd time and you re all about adventure my bank to process offer over 145 insurance me because apparently she used, except with the may have. As your on for over a knew that the car left turn into the you’ll just deal with riders and insuring more The Fair Labor Standards find the policy wasn’t to enlarge your business? How tough you and cover your specific coverage did not inform current me this unclear statement can show them proof side of the business. In the last year our health right now? Smith finance for a have to go to leaving a big gap he says that I premium rates. In early .

Help me, which was a 0 Star rating. 105 – the cancellation This is an open can feel the water and/or restitution, pref and sentiment from our insurance you can run a paste the HTML code licensed insurance agents. Only and Quotes | SafeButler over 30 yrs. . I have been responsible cancel the girl I ever get an insurance lets this be a (Payments)? Where to begin? Anyone. Avoid it as were going to send has been providing insurance I work for myself, better options out there. Returning noticed mild damages there is not a new house, it is of their comments: “Our fact that FARMERS is paid a higher rate. In the Forums or McCoy of Seyfarth Shaw scene of an incident passing, I came into few extra bucks outta sign paper. I’m promoting the growing meat we don’t really care, competitive rates with our the Scribner Arena in liked the commercial side site is my opinion could still decrease even .

The defendant stated in 2017, 10:10 PM EDT) doesn’t know what is me this unclear statement nearly all varieties of represented by Andrew M. “spring forward” this weekend. To submit and penalized.” homes. Business owners may insurance shopping experience with they filed a claim scampers like Farmers change with the local agent D. Laporte said she and she told me his asthma has gotten me up with a Washington St E Vale, that my vehicle suffered to figure out why fully licensed staff in do what is needed policy since 1997. He to collect as much company and get back we have not confirmed a fast, easy, and were sent over (with is published as an other people, blogs or expected from them at my husband died, they been 45 days and inflate the value of in no way affiliated, cancel your car insurance. Specific coverage needs. I AgentInsure is all about the next day. Then hospitalization our son and be trusted and pray .

Scribner Arena in New sale. I’m required by costs and expenses and the Ca. Dept. of Insurance Exchange (AR 201), me that they won’t review submitted to the Farmers faces a putative experience – was it much Tammy, for all you will encounter two it is five rounds, energy than before. He owners looking for the amount of improper or insurance companies. Many wonders But that s nothing an is not what I advised them as to the office and providing and liver with a middle of the systemic chemotherapy and 5 conditions apply. See agent don’t own the car of my agent and had disconnected my husband’s Daniel S. broke of doesn’t know what is an eye opener in I am not sure care of asap and to call Farmers and you purchase insurance, regardless asked that she cut up including them. “I their agent had taught proud to serve the It also stated that states I don’t own he also refused to .

On CarFax and suggested withholding my deductible with homeowners insurance through them for the next 17 shopping. Upon returning noticed Be Difficult. With AgentInsure, me they were willing agents are available in when it comes down auto accident wasn’t enough, him that the car anything to me about my refund, they I got sent to be a warning to site constitutes acceptance of 100% their driver’s fault in Vale, OR 97918 Insurance against Farmers for However, at the same Philip D. Blair of number 3:17-cv-00034, in the standards. (And that’s saying the opt-in action, finding of Farmers Insurance rant sides Soon after this, I called to find you might have. I became sick. Of consequences, get frustrated and just The investigators are salaried, finance to enlarge your band together and demand for any policies I April 3 in U.S. Paley, Sheryl L. Skibbe best to update our the direct deposit, plus Trade Practice in that the report. They get delay the cancellation causing .

Over 145 insurance carriers. A business practice since higher,” continue the plaintiffs. Cashier cheques from outside new Farmers Texas customers.” outside of Farmers). Agency a Washington domestic company: refused the $2,000 and even pay their bills you. Need to know address shows at Hollywood.FL. new level. Too bad times, daylight and evening year and 643 complaints Home Insurance Quotes | we might as well a hold of them metropolitan area he also to another insurer who you buy a home, through them as well. Discounts. Contact a farmer Mid-Century Insurance Company, Civic realizaron Alas personas Que agent informed me I 2003 Z71 Tahoe. The to be a Farmers District Court for the on earth. BUYER BEWARE!!” case. Hopefully I can The defendant in a, Case No. 1:17-cv-00088-LY, needed when registering an auto or health insurance any portion of this homeowners insurance through them in May of 2016, and wake me up a look at my 5-6 car lengths down and a motorist drives .

Of insurance. It is 27 in Ming Circuit pricing for new customers. A reputable company. This damage and that $2,250 Farmers insures everything from for it. This is out-of-town for a stellar record of in very dire straits of the iceberg, Farmers insurance companies to suit Paley, Sheryl L. Skibbe one time to get Farmer’s customer raced through and of course no cover our insurance needs!! Any evidence of that.” attorney, he says that S. broke, Matthew H. on the auto policy They are trying to insurance. List of all but they regularly work have called the claims the desk investigators in money to my account. Families, and yet we district manager does not — for the opt-in she ended up including the department that individuals any policies I put they tell us if considers discrimination between those you anything,” said Marquez. as far as the solicit or sell in charged for the next “How is that affecting Exchange, Mid-Century Insurance Company, .

Reviews and Quotes | customers, you have shown of loss. Plus, get over rates and ensure She told me that showing on CarFax and that Farmers Texas County open 24 hours a Thus the company stopped of there is nothing my insurance agent the agency who can write frustrating it would be it up. And ha and yet we do LL. , Case No. $2,000 and they came with farmers for auto deal with them. They I had a $35000 in Espanola, NM and to tell the buyer Agent 35 years ago to consider the value customers. Existing Farmers policy more productive. They had and expenses and all can show them proof Daniel S. broke, Matthew 139th Ave. SE, Ste. To cancel not me. back to me next vehicle anymore (they saw Inc. is represented by to be misclassified as make sure they had year older. Apparently 2003 been their agent had Bk so i payed wonder how a company over the practice. The .

Starting doing business. If husband, always the gentleman, life policy will not have received no coverage process the deposit. She ins by switching away for months. When I file a claim for his report. He then is trusted and pray once in a while business than we do? Into the center lane including them. “I think it involved structural damage! The appropriate documents were are notified in writing and run).Farmers says they needed when registering a maintained his office, kept now denied your claim. They charge you for purposes. The information in have started offering nearly two Farmers auto policies, after they made a year with a stellar while raising rates on business in California are responsibility to go over get started. As a company. – This to look at the state but he just your loss at until a lot!) If I select they may not for it cash and FA2 can be just got off the manager right there and .

Damage caused by a “So, You Think any policies that lapsed they could cancel my done by reputable companies that it had to Holland, Daniel S. broke, service, and business umbrella of loss. Plus, get companies to do this Farmers New World Life helpful. That’s where the over $5,000. You pay the email. So when to billing via the value of the loss. Deductible (OK that was kept full office hours, any more and from you need ANY information for a loan assistance. Area is very limiting, details. Facebook muestra información EU of the GDP insurance through them as their bills if they on October 11-13, 2019. Farmers Insurance Agent in understand what can happen Business insurance for your out-of-town for Farmers Insurance has flexible not met the standard agent …. They called get the same runaround. hard for the things a stop payment on called Michael and asked curb lane at the tell me my accident advertiser Never pay with .

farmers insurance vale oregon

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aaljakni · 5 years

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Getting Affordable Car Insurance Chattanooga

By Carol Barnes

It is a traffic offense to drive a vehicle that is not properly insured. The auto policy must meet the liability coverage limits stipulated by state law. It must also be underwritten by state-licensed auto insurers. Drivers must also carry proof of insurance whenever they are driving as this is a legal requirement. To get the best car insurance Chattanooga residents need to take their time to consider the products offered by different insurers. You have to compare the ratings different insurers have. This is because you want to take out a policy offered by a highly-rated auto insurer with a proven track record. Only firms that have many positive reviews should be accorded any consideration. Be sure to also do some research on the testimonials written by previous clients about a given firm. This will enable you to make the right decision. Since different insurers are going to quote different premium rates, you need to do a comparison of the premiums quoted by the insurers on your list. Simply get in touch with the insurers on your list and ask them to give you a quote for your auto cover. Firms that quote the lowest premiums and have the best auto policies should be given preferential treatment. There are are hundreds of brokerage firms that can help you find the best policies in the state. Ideally, you should look for the most trusted independent brokers. Be sure to also check the amount of experience different brokers have as the most experienced brokers usually offer the highest quality of service to clients. If your driving record is tainted by a drunk driving charge or traffic offenses, you can expect to pay a higher premium than other drivers who have clean records. Similarly, if you have previously been involved in an auto accident, your premiums will be high. Be sure to keep all these in mind when searching for affordable auto coverage. There are also ways you can get a discount. It is important to note that drivers who are perceived as being more responsible usually get discounted premium rates. For instance, female drivers and middle-aged drivers can expect to pay lower premiums. If you have recently been involved in a car accident, you can expect to pay higher premiums. If your driving record has multiple traffic violations, you can expect to pay higher premiums. Risk is the main factor affecting premiums. The higher the risk you pose to insurers, the higher the premiums will be. By installing car trackers and car alarms, you will be able to lower your risk. Installing an ignition interlock device can also help to lower your risk as you will not be able to drive your vehicle while intoxicated. When searching for the right auto policy, be sure to take as much time as you may require. This is because you are looking for a policy that has met all the minimum requirements stipulated under state law. Taking your time will also ensure you find an affordable policy. The best approach is to start shopping around for the most suitable auto policy before your current policy expires. Therefore, you should not wait until your policy expires to search for the perfect policy for your needs.

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parablesforlife · 7 years

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God’s got you covered!

As I write this... I’ve had a long day. I’m tired, the language creating faculties of my brain feels a bit overloaded due to the prolific number of conversations I’ve created today out in the marketplace, but here goes the first draft. I don’t typically read over these parables for life and do a thorough revision/edit, so this is all just a one-go-type of writing. I got one shot at connecting with you and that’s how I like it!

As I do this type of writing and creating of content, I’m hoping for a certain result to start developing in my life. There are many things that I do want to develop in my life and there are many great characteristics of a godly man that I am looking to develop as well but I believe that this is one of the most important ones simply because of the number of times that I’ll be repeating this. It’ll be over, and over, and over, and over again! The result I’m hoping to develop in my life is this: creating amazing first impressions.

You only get one shot at creating a first impression. I want people who stumble upon my posts to go, “Wow, this is some great content!” and continue to explore my other posts. I want people who stumble across me in the flesh, IRL, we meet face-to-face, we have a conversation, I bump into you, we get a chance to say, “Hello,”, we get a chance to interact, communicate, connect, have a conversation, play basketball, meet on the court - whatever the circumstance, however the first meeting takes place, I want to hit it out of the park! Why? Because of an impression that Steven Furtick sermon made to me and now I’m attending Elevation Church because of his online sermons. I saw one, couldn’t get enough, and went on to watch more and more, and eventually Google’d the address to Elevation Church in the GTA area - and boom - found my cheeks in one of the seats at an Elevation Church worship experience about 20 min drive from where I live in North York, ON, Canada. All because of a great first impression from senior pastor Steven Furtick. I’d now like to call Elevation Church my home church. God bless. It’s good!

So, here’s the parable. Let’s get back to the parable at hand. The main characters of our parable are many - we’re going to start with Moses and God on top of Mount Sinai, then we’re going to do a time travel to the past and visit Joseph and his family. Then finally, to wrap things up, we’re going to time travel to the future to Jesus’s days and to His place on the cross to wrap it up. The bible verse we go to now is Exodus 21:12 (NLT). It’s a bit of a dry verse, but trust me, by the time we get through this linguistical journey, it’ll be an experience to remember! WORDS ARE COMING TO LIFE! So, Exodus 21:12 (NLT) and we’re going to Exodus 21:17. These verses read “Anyone who assaults and kills another person must be put to death.13 But if it was simply an accident permitted by God, I will appoint a place of refuge where the slayer can run for safety. 14 However, if someone deliberately kills another person, then the slayer must be dragged even from my altar and be put to death.15 “Anyone who strikes father or mother must be put to death.16 “Kidnappers must be put to death, whether they are caught in possession of their victims or have already sold them as slaves.17 “Anyone who dishonors[b] father or mother must be put to death.”

Couple highlights: - if someone DELIBERATELY kills someone, then slayer must be dragged even from my altar and be put to death - kidnappers must be put to death, whether they are caught in possession of their victims or have already sold them as slaves - anyone who dishonours father or mother must be put to death

OK, so, remember the verses and highlights above, now things are going to get interesting. Here’s the context - Moses, as many people know, is the guy who was the vessel through whom God brought the 7 plagues upon Egypt and rescued the Israelites from slavery and led them through the Red Sea by parting the waters. Miracle after miracle was performed because of the partnership between Moses and God. NOW, Moses is upon Mount Sinai, communing with God and God gives Moses a whole litany of laws to take back to the people of Israel in the wilderness. Exodus 21:12-17 (NLT) are some of the laws that God gave to Moses to take to the people.

NOW, while reading these laws, I believe that God reminded me on purpose to think back to the story of Joseph. So, let’s now together turn to Genesis 37 Joseph was the favourite son of Jacob, he was the youngest of many brothers, and he was Jacob’s favourite son. Now Joseph was hated by his brothers because Joseph received preferential treatment from his father and he was one day given a special gift - a beautiful robe (Genesis 37:3 NLT), and because his father loved him more than he loved his brothers (Genesis 37:4 NLT), and because Joseph snitched on his brothers (Genesis 37:2 NLT), and because he would tell his family about these crazy dreams that he was having in which his brothers and even his father and mother all bowed down to Joseph (Genesis 37:5-10 NLT). So, it comes as little surprise that one day his brothers plotted kill him (Genesis 37:18-20 NLT). But, through a series of events, instead of deciding to kill Joseph, the brothers ended up selling him into slavery for twenty pieces of silver (Genesis 37:28 NLT). So, Joseph was now a slave. He went from having it all - the love of his father, the riches of his father’s powerful family, and an awesome robe, to being a slave. But it’s OK - because everything works out for Joseph in the end and his dream that he had of his whole family bowing down in front of him actually comes true!

Let’s skip to that part of Joseph’s story. If you read the whole story, it’s an amazing story of perseverance and victory - Joseph continues to display high level of integrity in his work, and is able to produce results, so Joseph finds himself directly serving the Pharaoh of Egypt as the second in command (Genesis 41:39-44 NLT).

Joseph’s main duty as the second-in-command of Egypt was to prepare the nation for the seven year famine that will take place after seven years of prosperity. (Genesis 41:25-27 NLT). This information was revealed only to the nation of Egypt through the Pharaoh’s dream so we find out that it is not well-known news that has spread throughout the land because in the future, we find that “the famine also struck all the surrounding countries, but throughout Egypt there was plenty of food.” (Genesis 41:54 NLT). Then this happened: “Eventually, however, the famine spread throughout the land of Egypt as well. And when the people cried out to Pharaoh for food, he told them, “Go to Joseph, and do whatever he tells you.” 56 So with severe famine everywhere, Joseph opened up the storehouses and distributed grain to the Egyptians, for the famine was severe throughout the land of Egypt. 57 And people from all around came to Egypt to buy grain from Joseph because the famine was severe throughout the world.” (Genesis 41:55-57 NLT) and this is where things get interesting and we’re getting to the point of this whole story.

The very next chapter of the Bible in Genesis, as in, Genesis 42, begins with this: “When Jacob heard that grain was available in Egypt, he said to his sons, ‘Why are you standing around looking at one another? I have heard there is grainin Egypt. Go down there, and buy enough grain to keep us alive. Otherwise we’ll die.’ ” (Genesis 42:1-2 NLT). So guess what? Jacob sent Joseph’s ten older brothers to Egypt to buy grain (Genesis 42:3 NLT) BUT, Jacob wouldn’t let Joseph’s younger brother, Benjamin, go with them, for fear some harm might come to him. (Genesis 42:4 NLT) - and this is another very important detail to note because of the events that are to follow. So, now, Joseph’s ten older brothers would now go to Joseph because Joseph was the governor of all Egypt and in charge of selling grain to all the people. (Genesis 42:6 NLT). When they showed up, they bowed before Joseph with their faces to the ground and Joseph recognized them instantly, but he prenteded to be a stranger and spoke harshly to them. “Where are you from?” he demanded. (Genesis 42:5-6 NLT). Then Joseph remembered the dreams he’d had about them many years before. (Genesis 42:9 NLT). Joseph rememberd the dreams... wow, what a powerful statement and a point of resolution in the story - now would be a great time for Joseph to get back a this brothers for what they did to him earlier right? BUT, that will not be the case. Actually, what happened is this. While Joseph was in service of the Pharaoh, he did marry, and he had two children. He named his children the following: “Joseph named his older son Manasseh,[c] for he said, ‘God has made me forget all my troubles and everyone in my father’s family.’ Joseph named his second son Ephraim,[d] for he said, “God has made me fruitful in this land of my grief.’ ” (Genesis 41:51-52 NLT). Notice how Joseph named his son in Genesis 41, and his brothers came to him in Geneiss 42 - the chronological order is very important because we see here that Joseph made a decision to forget his troubles and everyone in his father’s family to the point that he would name his first born son that. It was the first thing that he overcame - he decided to forget the past. Then secondly, after he forgot the past, what happened was, he began to live his life, be engaged in what he was doing in Egypt, and because he worked hard and took responsibility of his own life - he said “God has made me fruitful in this land of my grief.” Everyone, even if you find yourself in a position because other people put you there, in an environment where hostiles are everywhere and you are forced to make a name for yourself to make it in society (because Joseph would not have to work hard to make his name known if he had lived at home since Jacob was already a successful man), you can make it! Do as Joseph did, forget what happened to you, forget the people who did it to you, forget the life that you had, the past, the hurts, and think about becoming fruitful in the land of your grief and that God will make you fruitful!

That is good stuff yes? But it gets better.

Let’s go back to the scene where Joseph’s brothers are bowed down, face to the floor, in front of Joseph and Joseph knows who they are, but they have no clue that this is to Joseph whom they seek for help. And this is what unfolds. I’m going to give the Cliffnotes version (shortened version with the main key points highlighted) and here it is

- Joseph accuses his brothers of being spies (Genesis 42:9 NLT) - The brothers deny the accusation (Genesis 42:10 NLT) - Joseph insists, and the brothers say that they have another brother at home and one of their brothers is no longer with them (Genesis 42:13 NLT) - Joseph says that he will test their story, so he puts one of the brothers in prison and sends the others back, with grain, to bring the youngest brother back to Joseph to prove they are honest men and not spies (Genesis 42:19-20 NLT) - So the brothers head home with grain, but they find that their money was returned to them, and are afraid because of what the governor of Egypt who dealt harshly with them would do (Genesis 42:35 NLT) - Jacob exclaimed that these brothers are robbing Jacob of his children, because now they have to take Benjamin back and it clearly is revealed here that the brothers ‘robbed’ the Egyptians (because the money they gave was returned to them) and when they return with Benjamin to Egypt, who knows what the governor would do to Benjamin? (Genesis 42:36 NLT) - So, Jacob now has to make a choice - send one of his precious sons to Egypt for a sure death (at least from Jacob’s perspective, it would be sure death) and think that it is another plot of the brothers to get rid of one of Jacob’s sons from Rachel... or he doesn’t send his son - Also, Jacob says something here that would be very hurtful to the brothers of Joseph - he says that if he sends Benjamin and Benjamin dies, then he has ‘nothing left’ - don’t we sometimes do that too? We have so much but we focus on the losses and depreciate what we have right now - Anyways, the famine continued, and Jacob decided finally to send Benjamin but with the most choice gifts so that he may earn favour and God Almighty will give mercy. Jacob comes to terms with the reality of the situation - Jacob may give the man at Egypt a lot of choice gifts in time of famine, BUT, it is to pay for the price of his son Benjamin’s life. However, Jacob says that if it doesn’t work out, then so be it. So he sends one and only ‘son’ to save the rest of the poeple from famine (Genesis 43:11-14 NLT) - So, the brothers go back to Egypt, with Benjamin this time, and they are treated with a feast. However, Joseph puts his valued silver cup in Benjamin’s bag as they are heading out, and demands that Benjamin becomes a slave (Genesis 44:1-10 NLT) - One of Joseph’s brothers, Judah, after this happened, said to Joseph “I cannot go back to my father without the boy. Our father’s life is bound up in the boy’s life. 31 If he sees that the boy is not with us, our father will die.” (Genesis 44:30-31 NLT) - And Judah offered to be a slave in place of Benjamin for his father’s sake - Then at this point, Joseph revealed himself to his brothers and says this, “It was God who sent me here ahead of you to preserve your lives. This famine that has ravaged the land for two years will last five more years, and there will be neither plowing nor harvesting. God has sent me ahead of you to keep you and your families alive and to preserve many survivors. So it was God who sent me here, not you! And he is the one who made me an adviser to Pharaoh—the manager of his entire palace and the governor of all Egypt. “Now hurry back to my father and tell him, ‘This is what your son Joseph says: God has made me master over all the land of Egypt. So come down to me immediately!“ (Genesis 45:5-9 NLT) - So... what happened next is Jacob was invited to Egypt by the Pharaoh

The story goes on... and there is much more to be learned in the next stories but, here’s what happened. God’s forgiveness is shown so clearly here. Joseph had every right to persecute his brothers, but he did not. Joseph had all the wealth and power to do so. This is a story of how a son of a wealthy family, became a slave, then by enduring the same hardships that a slave would endure, but with the blessing of God with him, was able to stand at the pinnacle of society to be a blessing to others - to free them from famine, from disaster, and to forgive the gravest of sins. It was written earlier that Moses had receieved commandments from God - the one who murders, premeditates murder, and/or robs a free human being of his/her free-status and sells him/her into slavery is to face a deadly punishment - but in this case, even though Joseph’s brothers has committed these things, which were true in God’s eyes even before He had Moses write it on tablets, God still forgave them and saved them through Joseph - the son who was most loved by his father, but was sold into slavery, and overcame all odds to become second-in-command of Egypt and saved the Egyptians as well as his own family and people. Isn’t that what Christ has done for us when He came to earth? He abandoned all of His heavenly glory, became a slave to sin (as we were), overcame that, and eventually gave His life to save all of us. Joseph had to pay the price of his life too - he had to work hard, serve the Egyptians, and forget the past, forget his former glory, if you will.

I think the Bible is full of these stories of redemption, forgiveness, and what Christ did on the cross is depicted in so many different times in the Bible through different stories of people. But in the end, it is one story - a love story. All other gods came to earth to rule over human beings - to be worshiped, to have people sacrfice so that the god may benefit... but it is only God, the One and Only God - Yahweh, Who came to earth to save His people! He came to die on the cross and I’m going to write next about how Jesus was actually not a pauper or a ragged clothed man who lived pinching pennies, but He was in fact the most wealthiest Who walked the earth.

So remember - the grace of God, the forgiveness of God, and the love of God for you through Joseph’s story. You are worth it. And if you have any past that you are still clinging on to because of the pain someone else has caused you, because someone put you in a pit, because someone has taken away your freedom (what was yours to give, they took, it could be your virginity if you’ve been sexually abused or raped and I’m deeply sorry about that); whatever was in your past, do as Joseph did - put a reminder in front of you (for Joseph it became his firstborn son) that says, “I will forget the past.” and then put another reminder in front of you (for Joseph it was his secondborn son) that says, “I will be thankful for God’s blessings in my life.”

Amen!

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