#taking place and use it as a “proof” that the union was mistaken and the firing was legal

[haewangsong]

if anyone believes in the bullshit kjh put out i pray for you that you never work in a field in which you'd need help from unions

[sesamestreep]

if dreams were thunder, and lightning was desire

(read on AO3)

(read the whole series here)

SUMMARY: It's one thing to agree to get married for symbolic reasons in the name of political unity. It's another thing entirely to actually be married. [AKA - further adventures in that arranged marriage medieval fantasy AU of Rogue One]

A/N: Here I am, arriving three years late with proverbial Starbucks, to post my now once-yearly attempt at fic! I'm actually posting this as a birthday gift to my forever girl @firstelevens​ who is also responsible for helping me flesh out this idea in the first place.... [checks notes] uh, four years ago. Happy happy birthday and thank you for being the most supportive and wonderful friend in the multiverse, even though I’ve recently become terrible at replying to texts. Further notes are there if you want them if you follow the AO3 link above!

Cassian Andor wakes up to an empty bed, which is not, in and of itself, a startling thing. In fact, there was a time, only a few months ago, when it would have been a much greater surprise to find the other side of his bed occupied. Even now that he is married, waking to find his wife already up and gone is not an uncommon occurrence. The first few times he woke to find her gone, he had been confused, certainly, but he has adjusted to her habits and the sight of her side of the bed empty no longer inspires panic or concern as it had in the beginning.

However, this morning is different. Cassian’s wife is an early riser almost without exception, but she is not normally so far ahead of him that her side of the bed is as cold as it is now when Cassian runs his palm over the linens. Even more startling is the darkness that still lingers outside the window. It’s not yet dawn, then, and she is already awake and about the castle. That is highly unusual.

Perhaps, if Cassian had slept well, he might let these confusing details go. But he never sleeps well the night before he travels and tomorrow—or today, actually, given the hour—he leaves on a scouting mission to the southern provinces. He has slept fitfully most of the night and apparently only got enough actual sleep to let his wife slip out of their chambers unnoticed. He sighs and throws off the bedding, knowing he won’t get any more rest until he knows where Jyn has gone.

In little more than three months of marriage, Cassian cannot say he’s gotten to know his wife well. She is secretive and aloof, as a rule, and he has done all he can to give her the space she seems to yearn for, because he knows that, while she has accepted him as a husband, she did not choose him. Their union is a symbolic one, designed to mollify two disparate factions of the Rebellion as they struggle to rule together. He and Jyn are not royalty or even particularly important people, aside from that. No one is waiting on them for heirs or anything of that sort, and they can spend the rest of their lives as indifferent to each other as they please. 

 Still, Cassian cannot help that he has learned things about his wife, in spite of the careful distance that exists between them. He is a spy, after all. His job is to discover new information, even—or perhaps, especially—when the other party does not wish to give it to him. Jyn is adept at hiding things from others, but even she is not a complete mystery to him. No one is, for one thing, but she has the distinct disadvantage of sharing a bed with him.

 What he knows does not amount to much, truly. Except that he had heard his wife complain more than once, in an undertone to her brother, of how restless and bored she feels cooped up in the stone walls of the castle. That, and the early hour where almost everyone else will still be in bed, suggests to Cassian that he would do well to get dressed and try to find his wife outside.

 His instincts are correct in this case, as he finds her on the southern lawn outside the castle, standing alone and, he imagines, waiting for the sunrise that is beginning to tinge the sky with an orange glow just above the horizon. He takes the opportunity, before she hears him approach, to pause and take in the image of her, alone in the pretty half-light of the early morning.

 She wears no overcoat, which irks him for reasons he does not fully understand. By midday, there is a good chance it will be a balmy spring day, but now, it is still chilly and damp without the sun to warm them. Jyn could catch a cold in this weather and Cassian has never known someone who can be so cautious and so careless at the same time.

 On the other hand, she did go through the trouble of getting fully dressed before heading out, so perhaps Cassian should be thankful. He apparently also got more sleep than he realized, because he hadn’t heard any sound at all while she got her clothes on in the dark of their bedchamber. He half-expected her to still be in her dressing gown, given her lack of concern with convention.

 He wishes he could say she looked tranquil as she surveys the forested land that borders the castle, but, for all he can only just make out her features in the minimal lighting, he can tell she is frowning. He thinks, absently, that she is beautiful nonetheless and then regrets it. He should not be distracted by her looks when he knows she is unhappy.

 The distant call of a bird draws her attention in his direction and he sees the way her eyes widen in alarm when they land upon him before she thinks to hide her reaction. His opportunity to observe her unnoticed is gone, and he has no choice but to cross the distance between them, though he does try to appear unhurried.

 “Good morning, Captain,” she greets him as he comes nearer and he almost stops short.

 It always trips him up when she refers to him by his rank. It’s fine when others do so—that is protocol—but hearing it from his wife always strikes him as odd. He has told her as much, but there are moments when she defers to it still. He believes, though he has no proof of this, that she does it on purpose, that she only uses it when she is in a certain mood. Cassian has yet to ascertain what that mood is—if she is being sarcastic, if she is angry, if it might be her way of showing affection, even—but he knows there is some motive behind it that he does not understand. If he knew, he might be able to respond in some clever way, but as it is, he is at a loss for words.

 “Good morning, my lady,” he says, and perhaps he is cleverer than he gives himself credit for, because Jyn’s frown deepens momentarily before she can stop herself. “You are up early today.”

 “As are you,” she says, her tone suggesting that she heard the question hidden in his statement and she won’t be responding to it.

 Cassian laughs, without meaning to. “I couldn’t find my wife this morning. It was an alarming way to wake up.”

 He expects a terse response from her, saying that she is always awake before him. Instead, Jyn’s eyebrows raise in surprise and her frown eases, just a bit. “You were worried?” She asks, disbelieving.

 “I—of course I was,” he replies. He is always worried, he doesn’t know how she hasn’t noticed yet.

 “About me?”

 “Yes,” he says, puzzled by her need for clarification. “We’re married. It is my duty to worry about you.”

 Jyn  tsks  at that, whether in understanding or disappointment, he’s not sure. “And you are always dutiful,” she says, her tone unreadable still.

 “I try to be,” Cassian says, feeling like he is stuck in a game of wits for which he is unprepared. He is capable and coherent around others, but his wife always has the upper hand on him. It never feels like he has the right answer for her. Even now, she nods before looking away, back at the horizon as it becomes rosier by the moment. 

 “Are you well?” He asks, when the silence starts to stretch out too long. 

 She blinks in confusion when she looks back at him, as if she had forgotten he was there. “I—yes, of course,” she says, and he realizes it was the question that confused her. “Do I not look well?”

 Another question to which there is no right answer, he thinks. “It’s very early to be out of bed,” he says, instead of answering her question.

 “I am always up early.”

 “Not this early.”

 “Have I done something wrong, Captain?”

 “Jyn, I’m not chastising you,” he says, laughing. He’s not amused, not precisely, but if he doesn’t laugh, he’ll probably shout from frustration. This feels safer. “I’m asking if something is troubling you. I want to know that you are alright.”

 His obvious frustration must outweigh her annoyance, because everything about her—her expression, her posture—immediately softens, the fight going out of her instantly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be defensive. I just couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you, not when you’re leaving this morning, but I see that I did anyway.”

 “You didn’t. I...never sleep well before a journey.”

 “Oh?”

 He hesitates to say more, lest he seem like he sought her out just to drop his problems at her feet, but she is watching him with interest and, if he’s not mistaken, concern, so perhaps she would not mind. “All of the details, the logistics of the trip, I go over them, in my head, all night long. I’m practically frantic by morning, most of the time.”

 “I—” Jyn cuts herself off, shaking her head, like she had something to say and thought the better of it. “I have a hard time imagining you in a frantic state,” she says, instead.

 “Well, then,” he says, feeling some strange twinge of pride, “I suppose I am doing my job well.”

 “As a spy, perhaps,” she replies, her tone unreadable.

 “What other job do I have?” He asks, ignoring the fact that he’s not, officially speaking, a spy anymore. His actual title has something to do with “intelligence,” a distinction he’s meant to care about a lot more than he actually does. He’s not spying in the same way that he was during the war, but he’s not delusional enough to tell himself that those aren’t the skills the Republic has kept him around for.

 Jyn gives him a long, searching look. “It hardly matters,” she says, finally, waving a hand and looking off at the horizon again. She’s quiet for a moment before she speaks again. “I’m a miserable excuse for a wife, though, not noticing that you couldn’t sleep.”

 “I wouldn’t say that.”

 “Of course not,” she says, smiling, though the light of it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You are far too polite.”

 “‘Polite’ is not the first word most people would use to describe me, my lady.”

 “‘Careful,’ then,” she says, pointedly.

 Cassian nods, feeling as if he has lost this round. “That is far more likely.” He pauses before he says anything more, weighing the risk of it, but ultimately decides it might be worth saying. “I did not want to trouble you. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

 “I often am, at odd hours,” she says, and there’s something light and teasing about it now. “And you could stand to trouble me more, Captain. I’ve never heard of such an undemanding husband before.”

 Unable to parse what she means when she suggests he “trouble” her when he cannot sleep—and unwilling to use his imagination, knowing where it will lead him—he decides to address a less mystifying part of her comment. “I’ve told you that you needn’t call me that,” he says.

 “‘Husband?’” She asks, innocently, though he sees a bit of performance in it.

 “No. ‘Captain.’”

 “Well, you still call me ‘my lady.’ Only one of those honorifics is still worth anything, and it surely isn’t mine.”

 “I only call you ‘my lady’ when…”

 “Yes?” Jyn’s features take on the expression of an animal that has backed its prey into a corner, leaving it no options of retreat. 

 Cassian thinks it unwise to point this out, though. He also thinks it unwise to finish what he was about to say, which is that he only calls her ‘my lady’ when he wants to call her ‘my dear’ or something equally sentimental that he’s sure she would not approve of. It feels disingenuous to him, as well. He simply finds his vocabulary for expressing the intimacy of living so closely with another person without encroaching upon the territory of affection rather wanting. He cares for her, of course—why else would he be out of bed and out of doors on a freezing morning if he didn’t?—but there is hardly a chance of love or even affection in a marriage as young and unfamiliar as theirs.

 “When I do not know what else to call you,” he says, instead of the truth. It’s barely even a lie, but it nags at him like one regardless. He has been trying to lie less around his wife, but it’s a difficult habit to break.

 “My name would work well enough,” Jyn replies, her tone caught somewhere between amused and suspicious.

 “So would mine.”

 She hesitates before responding, looking shy, although it is a rare thing from her. “I thought you might like it, being called by your rank.”

 “Not from you,” he says, immediately. “I am called that by enough people. When I’m home, when I’m with you, I am just your husband.”

 He doesn’t realize the way this sounds—sentimental, the very thing he was avoiding—until the words are out of his mouth and Jyn’s face goes blank with astonishment. She recovers quickly, though, looking down at her feet.

 “As you wish, husband,” she says, quietly.

 “Well, you know now why I could not sleep. What has kept you awake?”

 “Bad dreams,” she says, matter-of-factly. “As always.”

 “Always?” Cassian repeats, concerned. He didn’t know she had nightmares. She shifts in her sleep often, he has noticed, always twisting herself into shapes that cannot possibly be comfortable, but he’s never known her to cry or panic enough to wake herself, the way he associates with nightmares.

 “Most nights,” she confirms, looking away to avoid his gaze. 

 She crosses her arms over her chest, although he cannot tell if it’s a defensive gesture or simply because she is cold. He decides to proceed as though it is the latter and begins to slip his arms out of his coat’s sleeves. The rustling of the fabric draws her gaze back to him and her eyes widen with alarm when she realizes what he means to do.

 “Oh, no,” she says, waving a hand to ward him off. “Don’t bother. You will freeze without it.”

 “Is that so?” Cassian asks, ignoring her protests and pulling his jacket off completely.

 “I know how cold you get,” she says, archly. There are things she has learned from sharing a bed with him, too, it appears.

 He doesn’t take the bait to argue with her and instead steps forward until he’s only a single pace away from her and sweeps the jacket over her shoulders. She stands stiffly as he does so, as if she cannot figure out her part in this scene. Or perhaps she worries the slightest gesture will upset the moment they are sharing, though this idea might be romantic nonsense on Cassian’s part. 

 He draws the coat tighter around her body by the lapels and he fidgets with the collar so it will stand up and block the cold wind, since she has no scarf. He wants nothing more in the world than to take her hair that has gotten trapped in the collar and draw it out for her, if only for the excuse it would give him to run his hands through it without the risk of giving himself away. All the while, Jyn watches him with her chin tipped up, her eyes narrowed in obvious but neutral interest. Perhaps he has already given himself away.

 “Do not worry on my account,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. He has finished arranging the coat around her shoulders, but his hands still linger on the lapels, holding it together, not wanting to let go and give up his excuse to be close to her. “If I am any good at my job, I will convince you to come inside before I even feel the cold.”

 “Your job?” Jyn asks, warily. “As a spy?”

 “Yes, and as a husband.”

 “It is your duty as my husband to ensure I do not freeze to death?”

 “Amongst other things.” He means it plainly enough, but in this close proximity, he sees the way Jyn bites her lip and look away at the implication of his words and he feels himself flush with embarrassment. He tries to steer the conversation elsewhere, no matter how artlessly. “I have nightmares too.”

 Jyn’s head snaps up. “You do?”

 “Yes.”

 “About the war?”

 Cassian swallows and words feel more difficult than he anticipated, so he simply nods. It’s probably important that his wife knows these things about him, especially if he wants her to tell him things too. 

 She watches him carefully, as if she’s waiting for a trap but Cassian just gazes steadily back at her, to see if she’ll trust him. After a moment, she sighs and says, more to his chest than to his face, “most of mine are from when I was young.”

 “I have a few of those too.”

 Jyn nods, closing her eyes. Cassian transfers the lapels of the coat into one hand, so that his other one is free to rub her shoulder. He wants her to say more, but he doesn’t want to pressure her. Without warning, she steps further into his embrace, close enough that she’s able to perch her chin on his shoulder. Though her face is turned away from him, the sweetness of the gesture nearly overwhelms him. He places his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, just so she doesn’t think to pull away.

 “I think the trouble is not having much to occupy my time here,” she says, after a moment, and Cassian could collapse with relief at hearing her speak. “I’m not accustomed to idleness. And when I try to sleep, my mind is still awake and it gives me these vivid dreams.”

 He can’t help himself any longer. He smooths a hand over the back of her head, brushing back some strands of hair that have come loose from where she’s tried to tie it at the nape of her neck. He thinks he feels her pull closer. “And what do you dream of?”

 “My brother and I, when we were young, we were always out of doors. We’d have breakfast with my mother and then she’d send us away and we’d spend all day together, collecting rocks and shells from the beaches or scrambling over rocks. We never came home until dinner.”

 “That doesn’t sound like a nightmare to me.”

 “It was lovely,” she says, sounding pained, and he tightens his hold on her. “I had a very idyllic childhood, in most regards. Mostly because my parents didn’t tell me anything that was going on.”

 Cassian laughs, lightly, at that. “That’s what parents are supposed to do.”

 Jyn buries her face in his shoulder, hiding from his gaze. “A lot of good it did me,” she says, and even her tone sounds closed-off.

 “What happens in your dreams?” He asks, quietly. He knows she probably wants to end this conversation and pretend it never happened, but he needs her to know that he’s here, that he’s willing to listen. 

 She takes a deep, shuddering breath, as if to prepare herself. “It’s just me and Bodhi as children, running around wild like always. At first, it feels like a memory, but then it starts to feel…sinister. I don’t really know how to describe it, it’s just this inexplicable dread that washes over me. Sometimes, we can hear people coming, a great mass of them, and we get scared. Other times, there’s some terrible storm moving in, faster than we can run. But we try to get home, anyway. We’re always running to find my mother, to warn her. It always feels so important that we get to her. And the ground falls away beneath our feet. Sometimes, I lose Bodhi; he falls or gets hurt and he’s crying out for my help but I can’t stop, or sometimes, he just disappears and I can’t remember how to get home. And I’m completely alone.”

 After a moment’s silence, Jyn pulls back in his embrace. He doesn’t let her go, but he does give her some space. “Foolish, isn’t it?” She asks, with a false smile. He can hear the unshed tears in her voice and knows she’s trying to make light of it so he doesn’t think her weak.

 “No,” he says, firmly, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “Not at all. But you and your brother survived the war, Jyn. And you’re together. It must be some comfort to you.”

 “Yes, it is. Of course it is. But our parents didn’t survive. And that version of us, the children who used to play on the beach together, they didn’t survive the war, either. Our lives are so different now. I think that’s what the dream is about.”

 “You wish to go home?”

 “I wish to go back,” she says, bearing his personal question with grace. She thinks on it a moment, before sighing in frustration and shaking her head. “If only it was as simple as returning to Lah’mu. But I know that the place will not be the same now as it was then. And I am different too.”

 “Perhaps that’s why something is always wrong in your dream,” Cassian muses. “You long to go back to that time in your life, but you know you don’t belong there anymore. Maybe that’s the source of the tension you feel in the dream.”

 Jyn looks at him, appraisingly, and he worries that he overstepped somehow. However, when she finally speaks, she doesn’t seem offended. “What do you dream of, Captain?”

 “Me?”

 “Yes. You said you have nightmares too.”

 “Oh, yes,” he replies, with considerable effort. He’d forgotten about that admission. “It’s difficult to explain.”

 “Of course,” Jyn says, and her expression shutters immediately. “You’re under no obligation to tell me.”

 Cassian reaches for a stray piece of hair that’s brushing against her collarbone, twisting the errant strand around his finger loosely. “Don’t misunderstand me,” he says, quietly and more plaintively than he meant to. He doesn’t know why he’s so worried about offending her by accident. “I’m not equivocating. I really do not know how to describe them.”

 “Do you even wish to?” She asks, with a sharpness he deserves but is still unprepared for.

 “No,” he answers honestly, which makes her blink in surprise. “I do not wish to tell you anything that will make you think less of me.”

 “You should not worry about that.”

 “Is your opinion of me already so low?” He asks, with every intention of making light of it but the question comes out unfortunately earnest.

 Jyn, for her part, looks bewildered. “No,” she says, immediately. “Quite the opposite. I have a hard time imagining anything you could say that would make me think less of you.”

 He takes a deep breath, looking away from her face and focusing instead on the strand of hair he’s still toying with. “I always dream of people I’ve…lost. People I’ve hurt or abandoned,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “It’s much like what you’ve described, I think. They feel like memories but I know they’re not quite right. And I know there’s nothing I can do to change what happens. So I just have to live through it again. And again. Until I wake up.”

 As he’s speaking, Jyn reaches for him, closing her hand around his wrist where it’s resting against her shoulder. When he feels the weight of her thumb pressing into the space between the bones of his forearm, he releases the lock of her hair, letting it unspool from around his finger. He’d pull his hand back completely, but her grip on him tightens like she’s read his mind. She brings his hand close enough that she can press her lips to the spot where his pulse is now racing wildly. 

 “You ought to have told me sooner,” she says, and she must be able to feel his heartbeat against her lips. The thought makes him warm with both embarrassment and anticipation.

 He swallows with considerable effort. “To what end?” 

 “There are things,” she says, against the soft skin of his inner wrist, “that a wife can do. To help her husband sleep. To take his mind off his worries. I could do those things for you, if you wanted. You need only ask.”

 She makes it sound so simple, as if they had the sort of marriage where they stated their desires plainly to each other, where they asked for what they wanted and then got it. But the asking is the most difficult part, in Cassian’s experience, or maybe the wanting is. They’ve been intimate together in the way Jyn is implying only once, on their wedding night, and, while enjoyable, it hardly left him with a strong sense of what his wife wants or expects from him.

 Now, though, Jyn is offering that to him again. There was no mistaking it. His own need startles him, thrumming in his veins so loudly that he can hardly think. He has weeks of travel ahead of him, weeks of sleeping on the hard ground with only young, raucous soldiers for company. It will be cold and lonely and it will not even occur to him to complain, to dislike it, since it’s all he knows. Or, rather, it was all he knew before he was married. Before Jyn. He would be wise to avail himself of his wife’s offer while he can, enjoy the softness of her before he leaves and knows no softness of any kind for weeks.

 He takes too long considering it, though, for Jyn’s face falls and she pulls back from him, only a little but it feels like a great distance, when they are this close. “Of course, you should feel no obligation to—”

 “I don’t,” he replies, hastily. “I don’t feel any obligation.”

 “I merely thought I should offer,” she says, and her eyes lower to avoid his gaze.

 “No, that’s not what I meant,” Cassian says, closing his eyes in embarrassment. “What I meant to say is…what I feel for you is not obligation.”

 He can feel her looking at him now, the scrutiny in her gaze obvious even with his eyes still closed. “And what do you feel for me, Captain?” She asks, carefully.

  An overwhelming and terrible want , he thinks. A desire so deep he has yet to discover the bottom of it. A dangerous kind of possessiveness, like they belong to one another, even though they’re not the sort of people who belong to anyone, or the sort to hold onto anything they’re given too tightly, because they know the pain of having it taken away.

 He doesn’t say any of that, though. Instead, he makes the mistake of opening his eyes and looking at her and the only logical conclusion to that action is to step forward and kiss her. His hand, the one she’s not still holding captive, curves around her cheek as his mouth covers hers. Her lips part for him without hesitation and their kiss deepens. It’s as good as their wedding night, but this time he’s sharp and clear headed, not hazy and tired from long hours of drinking and celebrating, and he intends to memorize every single detail. The way she wraps her arm around him and her fingers dig into his shoulder blade, desperate for purchase. The sound of surprise she made when their lips first met and how it mellows into a quiet hum of satisfaction, as if she’s been waiting for this.

 When she pulls away from him after a few moments, it takes everything in his power not to whine in complaint. But they’re both breathing heavily and Jyn’s hair is even more disheveled than before, which might be his fault but could also be from the wind that’s doing its best to push them back to their warm bed. He’s beginning to think they should listen, and he’s about to say as much, when Jyn speaks first.

 “You’re cold,” she says, and he’s about to take it the wrong way when she pulls his hand from her face and wraps it up in both of her own to warm it.

 He laughs, more overwhelmed than anything else. “I don’t feel it,” he says, because he was too busy feeling everything else. 

 She levels an arch look at him, either because she’s not impressed with his effort to flatter her or because she’s actually worried he’s going to catch his death like this, kissing her on a hillside in the early morning. He’s going to die somehow, it might as well be like this, he thinks, but he doesn’t try to kiss her again. He has the sense that she has more to say.

 “You can kiss me in our bedroom, you know,” she says, making it worth the wait. 

 His heartbeat races, caught somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. “I can?” He asks, stupidly.

 Jyn searches his face, looking for something. Reassurance, perhaps, or sincerity. Whatever she’s looking for, she must find it, because she nods, slowly, and a smile overtakes her face. “You can kiss me anywhere you like,” she says, and it does his heart rate no favors.

 Cassian steps back, grabbing her hand so he can pull her with him in the direction of the castle. She follows him and, as they walk, he pulls her into his side, burying his face in her neck and planting a kiss there. When she squirms slightly and elbows him in the ribs, he laughs against her skin.

 “You said  anywhere ,” he says, and she laughs too.

 ***

 The next morning, the castle bustles with activity as Cassian leaves his briefing with Draven. Using the former seat of the emperor’s power as the headquarters of the government of the New Republic has always struck him as a smart choice on the part of the rebels, from a symbolic standpoint and in a practical sense of needing the actual work of governing the country to happen somewhere. By its very nature, a castle is almost comically oversized for one person’s needs, even a ruler’s, and so the former rebels had made a much better use of the space than the emperor ever had.

 However, on this particular morning, with his mind already running through logistics of the mission ahead and planning what to say to the soldiers he’s bringing along, Cassian finds the crowded halls and corridors more grating than he normally does. It hadn’t seemed possible to feel this way during the war, when the emperor’s excesses had seemed so absurd and villainous, but Cassian is beginning to wonder if maybe the castle is too small for their purposes. The new government will loathe the idea of expanding, will object to spending money on something so frivolous, but it may be necessary, he thinks, as he bumps into yet another person in the crush of people moving about as he makes his way to the courtyard. The small party of soldiers accompanying him on this mission are gathering there now and they’re meant to depart in less than an hour. It will not set a good tone for the next few weeks if their captain keeps them waiting.

 Much like in the old days—and it is staggering to think of the rebellion as something of the past, he realizes with a lurch—these missions are to gather information on activity across the Republic. However, unlike in the old days, he’s not trying to find the one piece of intelligence he’s certain will win the war for the rebels, which is a welcome change. He’s also, generally speaking, not in constant mortal danger anymore, though there are some areas of the country that the war ravaged worse than others, leaving desperation and crime in its wake. That’s why Draven still sends Cassian on these scouting missions, to see what corners of the nation still need aid or resources. Peacetime has been far from perfect for everyone, but even with the things he’s seen, Cassian can’t deny most people, himself included, are better off.

 He’s so lost in his thoughts of the mission as he makes his way to the rendezvous point he arranged with the party that Bodhi must have had to call his name a half a dozen times before Cassian finally heard him. By the time he turns around, Bodhi is practically at his elbow, which is both impressive and guilt-inducing, from the way Cassian can see him leaning heavily on his cane. He does his best not to wince, because Bodhi doesn’t enjoy being fretted over, and slows down so his brother-in-law can more easily keep pace with him instead.

 “Captain,” Bodhi exclaims, managing to only sound slightly out of breath, “I’m glad I caught you!”

 “Coming to see me off, Captain Rook?” Cassian asks, pointedly.

 Bodhi looks properly chastened. “Sorry, Cassian. I’m still not used to it.”

 “Calling me by my first name or being a captain yourself?”

 “Either,” he says, and Cassian understands. Bodhi was only promoted to Captain after his heroics in the Battle of Eadu and it was only a few months later that the treaty was signed. He’s only ever been a captain in peacetime. “I just don’t fully think of you as my sister’s husband yet.”

 That does make Cassian wince and he isn’t quick enough to hide it from Bodhi, whose eyes immediately widen in alarm. “Not like that!” he practically shouts. “I mean, it’s nothing to do with you! I just can’t believe Jyn has a husband at all. In my head, she’s still six years old and telling me what to do all the time.”

 “To be fair, she does still tell you what to do,” Cassian replies. “No change in your rank will ever change that.”

 Bodhi laughs. “You’re certainly right about that.” After a brief pause, he adds, “Where is my sister, anyway? Isn’t she coming to see you off?”

 “Oh, well, she’s—no.” He clears his throat. “We’ve already said our goodbyes.”

 Bodhi nods absently, seemingly satisfied with this answer and mercifully doesn’t ask for any further details. Cassian is not sure his nonchalant facade would hold up under questioning and the exact nature of the goodbye he and his wife shared this morning would soon be extremely obvious to her brother. It’s better for everyone if they somehow avoid that outcome altogether.

 His relief is short-lived, however, when Bodhi suddenly asks, “And did she…uh…did she get a chance to, well…?”

 They arrive at the training yard before Bodhi arrives at his actual question. Cassian pauses in the archway that leads into the yard and turns to face him. “What is it?” He asks, dreading the answer.

 “Well, I was just wondering if my sister got a chance to speak with you?”

 “Bodhi, your sister and I are married. We speak with one another quite often as a result. You will need to be more specific.”

 Bodhi makes a face that suggests he would much rather do anything else. “I thought she might have mentioned the incident with Senator Jebel?” he says, voice stuck between a statement and a question.

 Cassian blinks, searching his memory for anything relevant. “Incident?” He finally asks, when nothing comes to mind. He doesn’t like the sound of that.

 “‘Incident’ might be too strong a word,” Bodhi admits apologetically. 

 “Here’s an idea: why don’t you tell me what happened and I’ll decide what the correct word for it is?” 

 “It’s just—if Jyn didn’t tell you about it, then it clearly didn’t bother her very much. I certainly don’t want to insert myself into the middle of your marriage!”

 Cassian doesn’t point out that it’s a little late for that sentiment and instead asks, as calmly as he can manage, “What happened, Bodhi?”

 “Well, it was just—” He pauses as a few people pass between them to exit into the yard, shifting his weight uncomfortably while trying to maintain his grip on his cane. When they’re gone, he continues, “Jyn and I were walking together the other day when we came across Lieutenant Tuesso walking with Senator Jebel. And, well, Kay was saying something to her about passing along some information for your upcoming scouting mission and—actually, Jyn told him to tell it to you himself because she’s not your secretary—”

 Cassian smiles at that, able to picture it so clearly. Kay is perhaps his oldest friend and the person he trusts most in the field, but he and Jyn get along like oil and water. Still, if Kay had truly objected to Cassian’s marriage, he would have done everything in his power to stop it, but he’d only asked if Cassian was sure before giving his blessing. Well, it was more like his resignation, but coming from Kay, they’re basically the same thing. Cassian likes to imagine that Jyn’s fiery temper and sharp wit secretly amuse Kay but he’s simply too stubborn to admit it.

 “But that’s not the point,” Bodhi says, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “The point is: Kay was talking about your trip and Senator Jebel asked why you were being sent off on a mission so close to your wedding, to which Jyn replied that it had been three months and that it wasn't  terribly close. And then the Senator said she must have been very confident in…well, winning you over, if she was comfortable sending you off on your own so soon.”

 “‘Winning me over’? What does that even mean?”

 Bodhi looks uncomfortable. “You know, as a wife?” He says, sounding pained. When Cassian just stares at him blankly, he sighs and adds, begrudgingly, “Senator Jebel may have implied that a man of your rank might use a mission like this to…avail themselves of the sexual talents of women other than their wives, you know, during their travels. Unless, of course, the wife in question had already proved herself irreplaceable in that regard.”

 Cassian knows that Bodhi has expressed himself clearly and put all of his words in the right order, and yet he still cannot comprehend a single thing he’s just heard. They stare at each other in silence—his baffled, Bodhi’s embarrassed—for a long time before anything clicks into place in Cassian’s mind.

 “He said this  to Jyn?” He asks, finally. It’s hard to speak around all of the dread pooling at the base of this throat.

 Bodhi cringes. “Well, he really said it to me and Kay. He was talking over Jyn’s head, which sounds better but, as you can imagine, made it much worse.”

 “And what did she have to say to all this?”

 “I made sure to drag her away as quickly as possible and Kay distracted the Senator with just as much haste!” 

 “Bodhi,” Cassian says on an exhale. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, feeling the early signs of a headache coming on. “What did Jyn say?”

 His shoulders sag in defeat. “She only said that she had no concerns on that front,” Bodhi says, plainly unsure if he’s helping or hurting at this point. “And then I made our excuses and got her away from him as soon as I could, I promise!”

 “I believe you,” Cassian replies, holding up a hand in acknowledgement. “And I appreciate your efforts to take care of your sister.”

 “I thought perhaps her feelings had been hurt by Senator Jebel’s comments, but since she has not mentioned the incident to you, perhaps she dismissed them as quickly as they deserved.”

 “Perhaps,” Cassian says, for Bodhi’s benefit, but his mind is on his wife’s behavior this morning; all of her talk of the ways a wife could comfort her husband, how solicitous of his troubles she’d been, how vulnerable she’d seemed herself, even the kisses they’d shared and the way she’d allowed him to take her to bed. How different it all looked in this new light. Of course she wouldn’t mention the conversation with the Senator to him—to do so would be, in Jyn’s mind, to admit to a weakness, that she cared at all what others thought of their marriage or, worse, that she cared what Cassian thought of her as a wife—but it wouldn’t stop her from taking it as advice. 

 So she’d seduced him, and quite adeptly at that. He hadn’t even realized it was happening. He might have known better, under other circumstances, but he’d naively thought that being married to someone meant that you didn’t have to concern yourself with seduction. If his wife wanted to sleep with him, it seemed to him that all she had to do was show interest in such a thing or, heaven forbid, simply say so, and she could have her way. To play such games about it seems counterproductive to him, but given how easily he was manipulated on this occasion, Cassian might not be the person to ask.

 “I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn,” Bodhi says, anxiously, at which point Cassian realizes he has been staring off into space for a long moment.

 “Of course not,” he says immediately. “I appreciate your telling me.”

 “You won’t tell Jyn I mentioned it, will you?”

 “No. Like you said, if it had bothered her, she would have told me herself.” It isn’t true, not in the slightest, but Cassian can see that Bodhi needs to hear it. “Besides, now I can use my spare time on this trip to plan my revenge on Senator Jebel.”

 “Revenge?” Bodhi asks, wide-eyed with concern. It’s sometimes hard to believe someone as tenderhearted as he is fought in the war, let alone survived it. 

 Cassian waves a hand dismissively. “I’m not thinking of challenging him to a duel, Bodhi. Relax. But there are a great many ways a man of my position can make his life…uncomfortable and I shall enjoy thinking of as many of them as possible.”

 “I am once again reminded how glad I am to be on your good side, Cassian,” Bodhi says, faintly. “And that you’re looking out for my sister.”

 Cassian has never felt less capable of doing any such thing, not when Jyn is still keeping secrets from him and treating him as an opponent, but he nods anyway. His wife would likely roll her eyes at the sentiment, but he cannot stand by knowing that someone made her feel small even for a moment. He gets a savage sort of thrill out of the idea that she shall have his protection, whether she wants it or not. 

 “I am glad to be of service,” he says, vaguely. “But I’m afraid I must give the soldiers their orders now if we’re to be off on time.”

 “Of course. Safe travels.” Bodhi offers his hand for Cassian to shake and then claps him on the shoulder as he takes his leave.

 Cassian is certain that he relays Draven’s orders to the soldiers assembled in the yard as soon as he’s done speaking with Bodhi but he can’t actually remember a single thing he said by the time he’s securing the saddle on his own horse. His only excuse is that his mind is obviously elsewhere. Even though he knows he should focus on the mission ahead, he can’t stop thinking about Jyn. 

 As though he’s conjured her, she suddenly appears in the courtyard, with Kay and Senator Mothma in tow. The latter two are deep in conversation about something, while his wife doesn’t seem to be participating at all if the mild, far-off look on her face is any indication. It’s not surprising to see them all together; he’s sure that the Senator is the one who approved their scouting mission for General Draven and that he asked Kay to appraise her of the mission’s status because he’d rather not do it himself. And Jyn and Senator Mothma are often in each other’s company. Jyn often jokes that the Senator has claimed her as an unofficial assistant but Cassian suspects it’s just because she doesn’t want to admit that they are friends. 

 Before he can think better of it, Cassian calls out to Jyn, despite the fact that she’s on the other side of the courtyard still. It doesn’t occur to him until afterwards that shouting to get someone’s attention in a crowded area is probably bad manners, especially if that person is a lady. She looks startled to hear her name and the soldiers scattered throughout the area look up in shock at hearing him raise his voice at all. When her eyes meet his across the yard, Jyn’s neutral, distant expression shutters, turning into something more wary and focused. Cassian tilts his chin very slightly to beckon her over, not risking a bigger gesture lest the assembled soldiers think they’re about to witness something salacious. He’s determined they won’t, and Jyn catches his meaning anyway, even from a distance, and begins to make her way over.

 He means to use the long moment it will take her to reach him to plan what he will say, how he will broach this delicate subject with her without implicating her brother in divulging the information to him, but he’s too distracted by the sight of her. She’s dressed plainly enough, not being one for embellishment, but her dress is a deep burgundy that suits and fits her well and she’s gingerly holding the skirt to keep the hem from dragging along the dirty ground. He only has to think on her clothing for a moment before his mind supplies the image of her this morning, as he was preparing to leave, just in her nightshirt, only deigning to get out of their bed to give him one last kiss goodbye. It was the only time he can remember being tempted to stay in bed rather than get on with his work. By the time she arrives, his face is warm with the sort of embarrassment he thought he’d grow out of once he was married.

 “Yes, my lord?” She asks, and he’d tell her again to do away with such pointless formality if he couldn’t see the bright glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She’s trying to be funny.

 He still has no idea what to say to her. His mind remains a complete blank, while his pulse is running wild. There is no way to tell her she should have trusted him enough to tell him about the incident with Senator Jebel, or that he knows the intimate moment they shared this morning was more inspired by that than by any genuine passion on her part, without giving away that he’s been listening to gossip. To admit that would only succeed in raising her defenses and causing an argument.

 She didn’t trust him. That’s the heart of the matter and what is bothering him the most. Or perhaps it is that, for once in his life, he acted without suspicion or subterfuge and now he looks like a fool. Without realizing it, he’d begun to trust her but apparently the feeling is not mutual. It is only once this thought articulates itself in his mind that he catches himself; he’s embarrassed. She’s injured nothing but his sense of pride—that he always knows when someone is lying to him, that he’s always the man in the room with the most information. 

 But what, really, is the cost? So what if she outsmarted him? It’s not life or death, this. He wishes she had felt safe enough to be honest with him, but he can hardly blame her that she didn’t. In the grand scheme of things, they hardly know each other and three months is not long enough to change a lifetime of mistrust in others, especially if one is accustomed to it as a means of survival. He still doesn’t know much about her past before they met, but if it was anything like his, he understands why opening up to him might prove difficult. 

 And maybe some of it was real—the dream she told him about, the reasons she has difficulty sleeping. Maybe she needed the ulterior motive of seducing him to make sure he doesn’t stray as an excuse to tell him the truth. And what does it tell her if he gets angry? How does it look if he holds it against her for being as secretive and wary as he always is himself? How can he ever expect her to trust him with anything if he lets his ego get in the way now? And perhaps more importantly, what does it really cost him to let her be right? 

 If she did what he thinks she did, it was an act of desperation, to ensure that she had some control over the life she was unceremoniously shoved into three months ago. She was afraid of the idea of him leaving on this trip and forgetting the vows he’d made as soon as she was out of sight. He can see now all the ways that her own ego is tied up in this—not wanting to be seen as an inadequate wife, wanting to prove Jebel wrong after he’d been so crass and unkind to her, and perhaps even worrying that Cassian felt the same way, that he had any complaints of their marriage—but he can also see further, to the core of the matter, where it’s just Jyn being afraid and alone. How can he punish her for that, when all he wants is for her to feel safe with him? 

 It costs him nothing to let her be right, then; to let her believe that he’s blissfully unaware of any hidden reason for her behavior or any conflict and just play the role of the devoted, smitten husband. It’s not as if he planned to be unfaithful to her while he was away, and giving her some assurance on that matter without revealing what he knows should be easy enough. Let her believe that her machinations paid off and she’s won her husband over with her feminine wiles. There’s no harm in that. When he thinks of it that way, it’s barely even a lie.

 “Cassian,” she says now, eyes full of concern at his silently staring at her. “Is everything alright?”

 He comes back to the present moment when her hand comes to rest on his arm. “Yes, everything is fine,” he says, weakly. “I apologize. There were probably less dramatic ways to get your attention.”

 “No matter. I appreciate the efficiency of your method, I must say.”

 “Still, I do not wish to embarrass you.” When he sees she means to shrug at that, he adds, “under any circumstances.”

 She blinks at him, surprised, so some of his implied meaning must come through. “You do not embarrass me,” she replies, warily.

 “I am glad to hear it.”

 “Is that why you called me over?” She asks.

 “No, I was—well, I realized I had forgotten to ask you if…well, if there was anything you needed.”

 “Me?”

 He nods, probably a touch too emphatically. He’s normally better at this, but Jyn has always caught him off guard. “Yes, I’m going to be traveling for the next few weeks and you can get almost anything from the markets in the southern provinces, so if there was anything you needed, I could bring it back for you.”

 She stares at him as though he’s spoken in a language she’s never heard before. “I don’t believe I need anything at the present,” she says, finally, after considering her words for a long time.

 “It doesn’t have to be something you need,” he says. “Something you want would suffice. Didn’t you lose your gloves recently?”

 “No, I found them. I had left them in Senator Mothma’s chambers after she and I returned from a walk.”

 “Still, I could get you nicer gloves.”

 “It wouldn’t make much difference. I’d still forget them everywhere.”

 “I could get you several pairs of gloves.”

 “Cassian, what is this about?”

 He covers her hand, still lingering on his arm, with his own, chafing her knuckles with his thumb. “Keeping your hands warm,” he says innocently.

 She laughs incredulously. “You are not going away for the sole purpose of buying me presents. You will be busy with work. I imagine you will hardly have time to even think of me.”

 “No, I’m afraid the real difficulty will be thinking of anything else,” Cassian says, his own pulse thundering behind his ears. It’s not the nerves of telling a lie and fearing getting caught, he realizes, but the panic of finally telling someone the long-guarded truth.

 Jyn looks down at her feet, scuffing the toe of her shoe back and forth in the gravel. “You don’t need to say such things. I do not require flattery to sustain me.”

 “Well, whether you’re flattered or not is incidental. What matters is that it’s true.”

 “Is that why you said it?”

 “Yes. I know the truth and I have a complicated relationship, sometimes by necessity, but I try to be honest with you, as much as I can be. And I can only hope that I get a little better at it with each try. It’s not much, I know, but—”

 “It’s worth more than you think,” she says carefully. 

 “I’m glad you feel that way.” He doesn’t say the rest of what he’s thinking— you can be honest with me too  or  I wish we could know each other better —because it feels like asking too much or risking betraying Bodhi’s confidence, so he leaves it at that. 

 Behind him, one of the lieutenants whistles for everyone’s attention. “Everyone is here and accounted for, Captain,” he adds, to Cassian. “We’re ready when you are.”

 Cassian nods to him before looking back at Jyn just at the moment the wind picks up and loosens several strands of her hair from where it’s pulled back. He attempts to brush them back into place, while she watches him with amusement.

 “It seems I must be going,” he says.

 “So it does,” she replies. She appears to struggle with something, turning it over in her mind for a moment before she leans in and kisses him. His hand is still buried in her hair, trying to keep it from blowing about in the breeze again, and it helps him to keep her close. He’d normally be reticent to have such a display in front of his fellow soldiers—he doesn’t want to give them inspiration for gossip or a reason to tease him mercilessly if he has to spend the next several weeks in their company—but he’ll have to make an exception this time. It feels like a coded message from Jyn, that she trusts him, that he’s done well as her husband, at least in this moment. She’s not one to say so directly, and that’s fine. He’s willing to learn to speak her language, especially if it means kissing her like this more often.

 However, common sense prevails eventually and he’s forced to pull back from her before they embarrass themselves in front of all the gathered soldiers. He runs his thumb over her cheek just once, feeling the chill of the morning there more than in his own body. “Goodbye, Jyn,” he says, quietly so only she can hear, and kisses her knuckles lightly for good measure.

 “Take care of yourself,” she says, in a rush. Like she’s tried to keep it to herself but couldn’t manage it. “I expect you home in one piece or there will be hell to pay.”

 “Of course, my dear,” he says as he steps up into the saddle. 

 “Don’t worry, ma’am,” the lieutenant beside Cassian chimes in, looking amused. “We will make sure nothing happens to your husband. You have my word.”

 Cassian shakes his head at the young man, who looks even more shamelessly delighted, but Jyn is pleased by this, he can tell. 

 “Good,” she replies, nodding at him. “You don’t know me very well, sir, but I will tell you this: you would not like to be on my bad side.”

 The lieutenant laughs. “No, ma’am, I would not. I’ll lead the party out, if you’d like, sir,” he adds to Cassian.

 “Thank you,” Cassian replies. When the group has started to move out from the courtyard, he turns his attention back to Jyn and reaches his hand out to her.

 She takes it, and plants a kiss on his knuckles. “My thoughts go with you,” she says.

 “And mine stay here with you.”

 The answering smile he receives stays with him as he follows the rest of the party out of the courtyard, as he lies on the cold ground of their camp that night, even as the mission turns long and tedious. It lasts until he can replace it in his memory with the smile he gets when he returns home again and sweeps her into his arms once more.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Alrighty, so this is my brief rambling about my two OCs, and I just wrote this piece since information has been/and mostly still is, in my brain and not on paper. (Also, you can probably see for which I have a clearer plan)

Solara Equinox

Height: 175 cm

Preferred magic type: Solar (often mistaken for fire)

Nationality: Thean

Birthday: July 23rd

Age: 29

Love interest:                Fuegoleon

Likes:                           

Warmth, relaxing after a long day, kind and genuine people

Dislikes:                       

The cold, indecisiveness, indifference, being rushed

Main fighting style:      

An attack mage, but has a couple of support spells as well (She has a binding spell “Gravity of the Sun” that can concentrate the gravity around the target, binding them to that spot without the ability to move)

Personality:                  

She has two modes: get things done, being efficient as hell, or then loitering about and enjoying the quiet. Of course, she does only “loiter about” when she has time, but she does enjoy laying in the bed, sunlight warming her skin without a care in the world.

She definitely radiates an aura of warmth when she smiled, being open and supportive, but if she’s observing the situation, her stare can make people anxious. She’s not giving off a malicious impression, but more of the “does not miss a thing and will silently judge you” kind of vibe. And, even though she wouldn’t admit judging people, she does. But she does recognize that people have a right to live their lives as they see fit, within the confines of the law of course. She doesn’t need to agree with the life decision of every single person and that is fine.

But if somebody asks for her advice, she’s glad to give it. As long as you have a genuine wish to improve, then she doesn’t see a reason to turn that person away.

She is strong willed, but will listen to reason. In the way “convince me otherwise. You can’t? Alright, then step aside and watch me.”

Colours worn/used most often:                       

Deep red, black and gold

 Selena Equinox

Height: 168 cm

Preferred magic type: Lunar (often mistaken for water)

Nationality: Thean

Birthday: July 22nd

Age: 29

Love interest:   Nozel

Likes:               

Quiet evenings, warm tea, reading, listening to rain falling outside during summer

Dislikes:          

Recklessness, rudeness (yes, Nozel has been scolded behind closed doors)

Fighting style:   

Mostly a support mage, but uses her spells as offense as well so she can be easily mistaken for an attack mage. But she will argue against, saying that if she was an attack mage, she couldn’t go head to head with her sister. (Eg, she can cast a large water barrier for defence, but would that wall of water fall on you… ouch.)

Personality:      

Inventive and curious, but also reserved. She’s kind and compassionate, and feels bad for Noelle for a while (before Noelle starts to find herself) and actually “adopted” her as her sister in the early stages of Nozel’s and her relationship.

 She is a quiet observer, who doesn’t speak unless she has something to say, but will not turn down an opportunity to help, if her help is needed.

Her personality is much like the moon, she lingers around, staying a little mysterious, but has a big impact from the distance. She does appreciate being given credit for her work, but most definitely won’t demand for it. What matter her the most is the outcome.

  She also has pretty effective healing magic “Healing waters” in which strands of water reach for the patient, radiating silvery light (like that of the moon), healing wounds.

 Selena is opinionated, but will not hold on her perceptions if they are proven wrong. Rather she has a researcher -type of mentality, where she’s open to new points of views, but can be quick to dismiss theories that seem absurd to her. In this case, you need to present her fool proof evidence to support your case, or she won’t budge.

Colours:          

 Blues, silver and black.

 Both Solara and Selena were born to a noble house in a distant, island, land of Thea, who have teleportation arcs to the main land where also Clover Kingdom is. (Note: Solara would have been born first, but as there were complications with Selena, they needed to be birthed via surgery. Selena was taken out of their mother first, because there was severe concern for her health, thus the order of birth that took place, was Selena first and then Solara. However, Theans admitted the title of “first born” on Solara because of the natural birth order that would’ve been.)  Their mother and father were the only children of their respective houses, so their parents marriage was a union of two families, merging into one.

These families had celestial thematic associated with the heavenly bodies, so despite being twins, their vast differences make sense. And the youngest of the family, Aurora, has been called a perfect representation of the powers merging. She has Twilight magic, which is more or less a combination of Solara’s and Selena’s abilities, and her appearance is also a harmonious combination of the two blood lines.

Thea is a matriarchal kingdom, where women have a similar status as men in other countries. The ruler is a Queen, who does have a King, but the power is held by the Queen. And they have an abnormality among their people, that being that 60% of their citizens are non-magic users. This has caused the society to revolve as much around technology as around magic, because it’d be idiotic to not utilise the capabilities of all of their people. One of the (8) noble families is composed of entirely non-magic users, who are largely involved in creating non-magical inventions.

The Queen has encouraged members of the noble families to explore the outer world to see how it works and the practises they have, because you can learn that way and improve your own country. But the Queen is very strict about what kind of information is released about Thea, because she doesn’t want anyone to attack and disturb their peaceful living (I mean who would?). So, all nobles are given a set of instructions and guidelines on what kind of information they can disclose at their own discretion, which also depends on their security rating.

Theans have connections to different magical creatures due to their isolation and peaceful living, but also due to their curiosity of the unknown and the outside world. They also have ally countries and enjoy different kinds of partnerships with them. However, they define “ally country” with a set of rules and laws that must be adhered by both parties in question, and a contract that must be signed. This allows the ally country to claim a “yearly favour” from Thea, which is a self-sustained country, without an additional cost. What Theans most often gain from this relationship is companionship and the possibility to immerse themselves further into the customs and practises of that given country. Also, there is only a fixed amount of slots for these countries, because the Queen is suspicious and doesn’t want to spread too many rumours of Thea in fear of an attack.

Thea is also an ancient kingdom, which has amounted to a lot of “forgotten knowledge” as well as some families becoming experts in some specific creatures and animals, such as devils. But disclosing this kind of information is considered controversial with any other country other than an ally country and would there be a need to take actions, direct actions by Theans is encouraged rather than giving off information. This does create a lot of problems and has created some discussion among the members of the noble houses, but has remained to this date.

[somnilogical]

<<Over the past year, however, Google has appeared to clamp down. It has gradually scaled back opportunities for employees to grill their bosses and imposed a set of workplace guidelines that forbid “a raging debate over politics or the latest news story.” It has tried to prevent workers from discussing their labor rights with outsiders at a Google facility and even hired a consulting firm that specializes in blocking unions. Then, in November, came the firing of the four activists. The escalation sent tremors through the Google campus in Mountain View, Calif., and its offices in cities like New York and Seattle, prompting many employees — whether or not they had openly supported the activists — to wonder if the company’s culture of friendly debate was now gone for good.

(A Google spokeswoman would not confirm the names of the people fired on Nov. 25. “We dismissed four individuals who were engaged in intentional and often repeated violations of our longstanding data-security policies,” the spokeswoman said. “No one has been dismissed for raising concerns or debating the company’s activities.” Without naming Berland, Google disputed that investigators pressured him.)>>

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/02/18/magazine/google-revolt.html

<<“Of the five people that were fired, three of us are trans women,” Spiers said. “That is either an unbelievable coincidence or Google is targeting the most vulnerable.”

“Trans Googlers make up a very small percentage of Googlers,” she added. “They make up a slightly larger percentage of organizers, but not 60%.”>>

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/dec/17/fifth-google-worker-activist-fired-in-a-month-says-company-is-targeting-the-vulnerable

i too am transfem and would "violate longstanding data-security policies" if my organization were being unjust. i wouldnt say that unless it were already obvious by what bits ive leaked to people about my life, because otherwise i could suppress this information and whistleblow more.

if you were an evil corp at this point youd probably try to avoid hiring any trans women in the first place because given this happens to you, its likely done by a transfem. not that this saved CFAR, who never hired a trans woman, from having a bunch of transfems whistleblow on them despite not being employees.

from what ive read from transfem google employees who are or were involved in activism, the degredation of google's culture. their complicity with ICE and weapons manufacturing mirrors CFAR's with OpenAI and DeepMind; authoritarianism and expulsion of transfems who object to this among a myriad of wrongs. to protect the territory of injustice and complicity with organizations like ICE, google needs to import "a consulting firm that specializes in blocking unions", CFAR needs to violate their whistleblower policy. if you once protect injustice, justice is ever after your enemy. morality isnt some modular thing such that you can be comitted to protecting injustice and not have this choice spiral into also invoking and protecting systems that protect injustice and invoking further things to protect those, recursively. all the way down to doing really dumb and obvious unjust things like transmisogyny (lots of future posts), changing your fundraiser after its clear its losing money, announcing that this year you got way below your donation target and claim to have no idea why.

well *i* know the compact generator for all of these things, and that makes me strong. unlike MIRI/CFAR who like the CDC rely on gaslighting the populace for myopic gains. i also wore a particle mask during the time that the CDC claimed that they were useless to preventing spread of disease, so it was really important to give them to doctors and nurses.

after so much gaslighting, *i* have built up general capabilities at arbitraging the difference between what agents claim and the truth. people who say:

<<Edit: This is a type of post that should have been vetted with someone for infohazards and harms before being posted, and (Further edit) I think it should have been removed by the authors., though censorship is obviously counterproductive at this point.

Infohazards are a real thing, as is the Unilateralists’s curse. (Edit to add: No, infohazards and unilateralist’s curse are not about existential or global catastrophic risk. Read the papers.) And right now, overall, reduced trust in CDC will almost certainly kill people. Yes, their currently political leadership is crappy, and blameworthy for a number of bad decisions—but it doesn’t change the fact that undermining them now is a very bad idea.

Yes, the CDC has screwed up many times, but publicly blaming them for things that were non-obvious (like failing to delay sending out lab kits for further testing,) or that they screwed up, and everyone paying attention including them now realizes they got wrong (like being slow to allow outside testing,) in the middle of a pandemic seems like exactly the kind of consequence-blind action that lesswrongers should know better than to engage in.

Disclaimer: I know lots of people at CDC, including some in infectious diseases, and have friends there. They are human, and get things wrong under pressure—and perhaps there are people who would do better, but that’s not the question at hand.>>

https://www.greaterwrong.com/posts/h4vWsBBjASgiQ2pn6/credibility-of-the-cdc-on-sars-cov-2/comment/uDYbgf3QtEQirbsJk

havent. its easy to see how peoples minds are warped when its someone elses glowy thing, when its someone elses friends working for an institution that that someone else routed their hopes through.

its easier to recognize betrayal and see knowledge beyond the veil when its happening to someone else, instead of you.

until you build up general skills for recognizing it, this sort of betrayal isnt infinitely powerful. and like how you might expect that smart people who live for predation would do anti-inductive smart predatory things, but they end up converging on child sex rings; institutions that betray you, because justice is their enemy will start doing dumb unjust things like banning two people from speaking about their irl experiences with anna salamon, saying their first-hand accounts werent evidence and then citing anna salamon's first-hand account of the meeting as evidence. when i objected that this was a fucked up self-serving ontology of "evidence" they acted like i was objecting to "beliefs flow from evidence" and they acted as if what i was saying was obscure and beyond their ability to comprehend. their "incomprehension" was fake, downstream of a fear to dynamically compute things in front of other people that might end up outside the orthodoxy. the result of which is they display a blue screen of death and say “i just dont understand and aaa dont explain this to me!!!”. and then people agree that it "seems like it could be an infohazard" because when your goal is the preservation of the matrix, everything that tears it down looks like hazardous information.

or a cfar employee, in response to claims that anna's transmisogyny influences CFAR's hiring choices, claiming that anna salamon, head of CFAR, is not involved in CFAR's hiring. until i post proof from another CFAR employee pursuing personal vengeance against the org for hiring their rapist where its tangentially mentioned and they suddenly "realize" that anna salamon, head of CFAR, is involved in CFAR's hiring process.

or a thousand other injustices that have burned themselves into my brain during my months of talking with people under the assumption that they were simply mistaken in their path to saving the world. when they were actually un-mistaken in their path to having babies and a low chance of personal death. hoping and expecting someone else will take heroic responsibility for the planet.

like when you drill down to the base of injustice, it bottoms out in dumb and petty injustice. like the structure doesnt go infinitely high and complex, if you go down to the base level, you just need a bit of courage to not flinch away from what you see even if it seems that it means the ruin of something you ran your hopes and dreams through.

--

"isnt this a little... extreme?" i hear some people ask. ""dont protect regions of injustice?" that sounds like the end product of obsessive compulsive fixation on virtue at the expense of practicality."

well, assuming the algorithm seeding this response is a systemic reasoning tool, it should forkbomb when you consider if youd output ""dont protect regions of untruth?" that sounds like the end product of obsessive compulsive fixation on virtue at the expense of practicality." in response to eliezers essay. the principle behind both is the same such that if you hold by one you should hold by the other.

all of these things have parallels. if you want to see what is happening with MIRI/CFAR, theres a lot of mutual information with whats happening with Google.

[lifeofateenageauthor]

A Higher Plane

Chapter 1

Second To Midnight

“Look, I don’t actually want to be your friend.” Blake could not fathom how that was hard to understand. 

“Blake, please listen to me.” Her voice was clingy, desperate even. It revolted him in the same way it had when his step-dad had insisted that they sit down and watch NASCAR together. A pitiful excuse for bonding time was what it boiled down to in the end. “No. The protest is tomorrow. I don’t care if you show up. You can do whatever the fuck you want.” It wasn't like his feelings had mattered when it turned out she had been in a relationship the entire time.

“I just think we should talk.” 

“I don’t care what you think.” The whining was too much, he couldn't take it.

“I know it was my fault. But neither of us really tried to salvage it.”

“If it’s not clear to you, I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want you again. Ever.”

“Blake, please.”

“No, I’m done being some late night hook up. It’s not what I want.” “It’s not what I want either.” Like hell it isn't, Blake thought. 

“We talked about this. I’m moving back to Paris. I’ve sold my LA apartment. We’re done, Winona.”

“Please.”

“No, Winona. I’m done. Stop calling me.”

His heart was crossed, his veins felt tangled as he struggled to calm his racing pulse. Protestors were already on the streets, and he had yet to finish his briefing with the other organisers. They stood around, a lot less tense than they probably should have been. Susanna, with her dark, gleaming skin that contradicted her being an Angeleno born and raised in downtown LA where less than one in ten people were african american, handed them each a megaphone. He strengthened his grip on the object; they needed to be strong. Lest the campaign come crashing to the floor under the weight of the protestors’ expectations and the resistance of the oppressors.

As an offer to the people who haven’t already done it, they set up a station with the Bail Fund Project, where protestors queue up to have the BFP’s phone number written on their arm in case they got arrested. Blake wrote the number on the arm of a young, trans woman, mechanically dragging the sharpie across her skin, as though he couldn’t feel the veins that led blood to every cell and made her human. He had decided that it shouldn’t be personal, he had promised himself that the moment he had seen the amount of people who had signed up for the protest. To make it personal would be to lose the overview. And if he lost the overview, that was it.

The police were there already, cocooned in bullet proof vests, helmets and shin guards, unlike the last ‘Higher Plane’ protest. Their trucks and cars barricaded the sides of the road, leading to an empty CVS parking lot the police had turned into a beehive of activity, officers watching them with peeled eyes, the National Guard flexing their semi-automatic weapons waiting to impose the curfew they had set for three in the afternoon.

Blake was in charge of the middle-right section. As they started moving, he fell into place amongst the signs and fists being thrown into the air. The crowd was at least double the size of the previous protest last week. His eyes scanned the crowd continuously, like a metal detector at the airport. Susanna’s voice drifted back to them, her strong words infiltrating the crowd, like ribbons of courage being transmitted through airwaves. “Despite our differences, we are strong! Despite our differences, we are united!”

She had always had more of a bond with people of colour, even though he had always gotten top marks in history. On the other hand, he appealed more to the queer community; evident from the outpoor of positivity on his social media. That’s why they worked well together; people tended to trust their own, but if you could suddenly convince that group that a certain other group was worth allying with, they could stand stronger and taller. Especially when it came to the overlap, people like Winona who was a queer woman of colour. Ugh shit, stop thinking about her. Like the trade unions that allowed this type of police behaviour to be the norm, that when you collect enough people with the same goal, your collective bargaining power skyrockets and you’re more likely to get what you want. 

With every step he took, he could feel the government rulings crumble into every crack in the pavement. He was surrounded by diversity. The collelliosion of the us’es had succeeded. The collision he had created. Men and women. Black and white. Gay and straight. LGBT. Black Lives Matter. The Women’s Movement. He watched them stand up for each other and it was glorious. Their movement was glowing. These personal stories were their Higher Plane. Higher than political divides and cultural differences. Finally, this was their success, and he felt drunk on it. Their protesting chants and yells morphed into euphoria and carried him with fumes, soft like clouds. 

Dusk was still hours away from setting in as he watched the protestors around him slowly disperse, unnecessarily rushed by the police. About halfway through the march he had realised that he could no longer hear Susanna in front of him, and similarly he came back to find that she was not in their organiser’s tent for the debriefing. He asked around, but all just shrugged, suggesting that she had probably gone home and forgot to tell them. 

The traffic light turned green and he accelerated, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. A shrill, siren cut through the air and he quickly looked forward, left, right and checked his mirrors. Seeing no police or ambulance, he continued his purposeful cruise. The last thing he wanted to do was tap the break. He had places to be and deals to make to change the world. His phone rang, the opening chords to Sam Tsui’s “Second To Midnight” filling the silence of the car. He realised he had forgotten to turn on the radio. As soon as he tapped the answering icon on his dashboard, Susanna exclaimed,  “Blake?!”

“Yes?” he answered absentmindedly, browsing through dinner options. 

“Fuck, Blake, they shot someone!” Her pitch was hysterical, like a horn at a football match. It took him a good second of staring out of the windshield blankly before he realised what she had said.

“What?”

“The police shot a black protester.”

“Shit.” He could almost taste it on his tongue, the tear gas they had used. “Do you know who?”

“I think her name was Scott. Yeah, Winona Scott.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” At her response, he went quiet like the night, his mind thundering. “Blake are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m here.”

“They took her to LAC and USC medical center.”

“Is she going to make it?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I’m heading there now.”

“I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.” Too late, he realised he might have sounded too eager.

“Blake, that's really kind, but it’s okay. You don’t need to be there.”

“It’s the right thing.” I need to be there.

“Okay, I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“No worries, I called around to the others too.”

The waiting room was cold, there definitely wasn’t any heating in the floor, but Blake’s sweaty back stuck to the cheap plastic chairs anyway. He had been greeted by Winona’s mother, who had understandably been in tears. He had asked what the doctors had said. She had said she didn’t know anything yet. So much for good news. His knee bounced, a stress mechanism out of his control.

“Winona Scott?” A doctor called.

“Yes?” Mrs Scott got up to follow the doctor down a hallway and Blake felt his heart pick up as he watched them walk away.

The doctor was somber as he led her into a small, sparse room. “Please, come with me. Sit down.” He motioned to a chair that seemed only marginally more comfortable than those in the waiting room. “Mrs Scott, your daughter was in critical condition coming in. He passed away during the operation. My condolences. The bullet had graced both the heart and the aorta. There was nothing we could do.”

Blake knew it wasn’t good the moment he saw the way Mrs Scott walked back with her chin tucked towards her chest. “What did the doctor say?” His words were feeble.

“She’s dead. My daughter’s dead.”

“Blake.” Susanna approached him with the cup of black coffee he had asked for. He couldn’t fathom getting out of his seat. Maybe if he sat here long enough the doctor would come back and say they had been mistaken, that Winona was okay. She placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to look at her. “A man called Jakob Webber just called. Do you know him?”

“No. Why did he call?” He chose not to look at her, favouring the straight outlines of the floor tiles that intersected so neatly.

“He’s an independent activist in Pontoise in France.”

“In France?” If this movement was something he wanted to take home with him, he wasn’t sure. And handing it to another person was drastic. “Yeah. He wanted to organise a rally under our campaign name. I told him I’d get back to him. What should I tell him?”

“Tell him no.”

“Are you sure?”

“A woman just died. I’m sure.”

“Okay, I’ll call him.”

[supertrainstationh]

Glenn Beck is a joke.

Not even three months ago he was ranting and raving at Cpac saying Bernie Sanders and Black Lives Matter were dangerous radicals that were conspiring to carry out genocidal acts on US soil, or something to that very direct effect.

Beck has a repeated history of “changing sides” and swearing that what he said in the past was a mistake, because he has some complex where he always wants to be seen as some sort of underdog, where being on the side that’s presently “in power” isn’t enough for him as he need to be fighting against something to feel valid.

I’m not some random lib who saw a compilation of out of context Glenn Beck footage online long after the fact of his Fox TV show ending, I watched his Fox News show every day since before his program even really took off in popularity.

I started watching because a conservative economist who I actually LIKED and was genuinely interested in, who I’ve purchased books by, who I actually paid to be a member of his now defunct organization, someone who’s probably far more traditionally conservative than Beck himself, and probably more radically anti-socialist than most Republicans today, was scheduled to be on his show, only to be bumped at the last minute, likely for being too opposed to the interest of Fox in general.

So while the guy I actually wanted to see never appeared on Beck’s show, I found Beck himself interesting as well, and early on I found him to be kind of impressive in that some of the points he made or positions he had weren’t typical of Fox News in that he was actually making some objection to Bush era foreign policy that lots of people on Fox wouldn’t dare utter at the time.

So I watched this guy, every day, for a WHILE, and i didn’t agree with all or most of what he said, I genuinely liked him, and it was a very gradual process of me NOT liking him anymore, as I just watched as he honed in on anti-Obama frustration among conservatives and became more and more extreme and unhinged.

Its one thing to fail to use “unifying language” on his Fox News show.

What Beck did on his show went LIGHTYEARS beyond “non-unifying langauge”.

Highlights on material featured on his TV show included:

routinely vilifying black community groups, and actually ACCUSING people he was at odds with of being “community organizers”, using that term alone as an implication of wrongdoing or conspiratorial activity.

accusing black community groups of holding “fake protests” by bussing people to the site of demonstrations, though he later promoted Tea Party demonstrations such as the Tea Party Express bus tour that LITERALLY served to transport almost entirely white groups of conservatives to anti-healthcare reform rallies. 

targeted community groups that were helping black people find housing and register to vote by promoting a fake news story that one of these groups was running a child prostitution ring, leading to that group (ACORN) being defunded by the government and forced to disband, though a number of conservatives still blamed ACORN for “rigging” the 2012 election in favor of Obama in spite of the group having been completely dissolved.

Peddling a conspiracy theory that Obama was going to sell large swaths of US land to China to pay the national debt.

briefly promoting a fake news story that Obama was building concentration camps to put conservatives in, before making a rapid U-turn and debunking the “fema camp photos” as North Korean prison camp photos with a FEMA logo pasted on them to create a hoax.

Saying that Obama is a racist and that he “has a deep-seated hatred for white people or the white culture”, though this wasn’t on his own show, but during an appearance on another Fox show.

Airing footage of children in a black private school saying that Obama inspired them to become doctors and lawyers, and insisting that this footage were proof that Obama was inspiring an anti-American conspiracy

airing edited footage of an black government employee to make them seem like they harbored anti-white racism, leading to them being fired.

showing a historical Nazi Party propaganda poster promoting the state sanctioned murder of disabled people, and pushing the idea that if Obamacare wasn’t destroyed, people like his own special needs daughter would be rounded up and murdered by Obama’s administration.

Playing footage of George Bernard Shaw ranting insanity about doing annual evaluations of every citizen and killing the ones that weren’t productive enough, and insisting that this was Obama/Democratic policy intention. (but at the same time he was complaining that the Democrats give too much assistance and services to poor/jobless people, so....?)

Doing otherwise fairly decent historical coverage of human rights violations which took place in the Soviet Union under Lenin and Stalin, but tying it in with the idea that Obama was going to repeat these acts in the US and had to be stopped.

A continued fixation on railing against working families who were on unemployment insurance after the financial meltdown.

A weird phase where he began to idealize and romanticize the day after 9-11 as the peak of American community and values.

Doing pretty good coverage of a public school in Queens NY, one from my own home neighborhood, that had deplorable building conditions and non-existent educational capability, but after all this other shit, who would take Beck seriously on ANYTHING he says?

The funny thing is I don’t even like Obama, I mean I like him more than Trump, but that’s like saying I’d rather step in dog poop than get hit by a train, so it’s not like I’m out to defend him as this great leader or anything, I’m just against racism and ignorance that is based on made up bullshit.

Anyway, the more nuts Beck got, the more sponsors he lost, until the commercial breaks during his shows were nothing but promos for other Fox shows, or supplies for doomsday preppers that were sometimes endorsed by Beck himself, the dopiest of all included “food insurance” where a company would send periodic shipments of food to your house in the case of a... I don’t know, a Stalinist famine or a civil war or something? 

So in spite of being the most popular show on Fox at one point, Beck was the only one making money off of it until he got pressured to end it from within Fox itself.

I’ve seen videos on YouTube where some leftie tries to edit footage from Beck’s old Fox show out of context and present him as a nutcase, its lazy and dishonest, as someone who actually watched his show regularly, you didn’t have to edit things or lie to make him look like a nutcase.

He’s given many “apologies” before for what he’s said, then goes back and says the same insane horrible shit all over again, you don’t go around saying Obama is a racist and hates white people and white culture, show footage of black schoolchildren saying they want to be doctors and lawyers as evidence of an anti-American conspiracy, go on saying Black Lives Matter is part of a plot to commit American genocide, and then cry crocodile tears that you “should have used unifying language”, when now, Fox is repeating those same messages that anti-racists are “coming to get you” and “want to attack and dethrone god”, while insisting that they aren’t racist but just trying to “protect America from communism” or whatever, and calling Mitt Romney a traitor for marching with anti-racist protestors.

You helped establish this shit as acceptable discourse Beck, you don’t get to apologize now.

Early on in his show’s run, he actually called out adults in that were turning away trick-or-treating children during Halloween if they suspected their parents were voting for Democratic candidates, he knew it was bullshit and called it out, but when he realized there was no MONEY in promoting POSITIVITY like that on Fox, he appealed to those same biased spiteful families as much as he could.

Beck was never mistaken or confused, he always knew exactly what he was doing and how to monetize people’s fear in an age where for the first time, someone not of their own racial background was “in charge of them”, and mobilized them to elect a racist gameshow host to “set things right” and make sure the tragedy of blacks being in power without their own personal permission was never made again.

[flourchildwrites]

Edwin 26 and 92 please.

A/N:  Hey, anon!  Thank you for dropping this FANFICTION TROPE MASH UP into my ask box.  I hope you check back in now that I’ve finally got around to responding.  You requested numbers 26 (massage fic) and 92 (kink) with an edwin ship.  I’m sensing a theme here, lol.  However, I’ve got to warn you that I’ve been in a heavy mood lately, and it’s coming out in my writing.  Trigger warnings for chronic pain and sacrilegious undertones.  This fic is also lemon flavored below the cut. :P  Here goes… something.

Special thanks to @bearonthecouch for the read through!

Read on AO3

Truth was a mixed bag.  At least, that was Winry Rockbell’s opinion.  In the years that followed the Promised Day, Ed described them as an amorphous being of indiscernible power, a haughty guardian of the veil between the physical and metaphysical realms or alternatively…  “That uppity bastard who stole my leg, my arm and my brother’s body!”  

Let it never be said that Edward Elric, adoring husband and doting father did not have a way with words.

Nevertheless, on the subject of the past, Winry kept her own counsel.  She neither delved deeply into the regrets of the yesteryear nor dwelled on impracticalities like God, Truth or the meaning of life.  Like the stalwart woman who raised her, Winry’s very existence was a testament to patience and persistence.  And yet, she’d be remiss to deny that, while Truth might have been a capricious guardian of the scales, they were most certainly a shitty surgeon.

Ed’s arm was all the proof she needed.  A mangled scar spilled across his shoulder, three inches deep with puckered flesh in all shades of ruddy red, yellow and purple.  Nuts and wires had jutted out from his restored skin, and if anything, the internal damage proved permanent.  Veins inextricably intertwined with threads of metal, a ghastly union of organic and manmade parts.  Secretly and silently, the young automail engineer sometimes wondered if Truth had bestowed Ed with a blessing or a curse.

Bathed in moonlight, Winry waddled down the staircase of the Elrics’ Resembool home with heavy footfalls.  One hand clutched her swollen stomach, and the other grasped the sturdy wooden banister.  Even in darkness, Winry knew that the walls were pristine, covered in pretty pictures and pastel paints that suited the quiet, country life that Ed and Winry enjoyed when they could get away from the hustle and bustle of Rush Valley.  And though baby Trisha’s nursery was only half finished, Winry could see Ed’s labor of love coming together, just as sure as she knew she was having a girl this time.

Winry smiled to herself as she appreciated the work that human hands had made.

“Ed,” Winry quietly called out from the foot of the staircase, careful not to wake little Yuriy.

“In here.”

The expecting mother made her way toward the sitting room and stumbled upon a familiar sight:  Edward Elric had, yet again, turned her elegant sitting room into an office.  Nevermind the actual study upstairs.  Books were haphazardly strewn across the small space interspersed with parchment bearing nearly illegible scribbles in Ed’s native Amestrian as well as flawed Xingese characters.  Winry had half a mind to chide her husband, but she refrained in light of the ice pack draped over his right shoulder.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked knowingly, coming close enough to admire the narrow spectacles Ed now wore when reading, the ones he obstinately swore he didn’t need.

“Nothing to worry about, Win,” the blond shot back, injecting confidence into his voice.  “It’s just a little sore.  The weather is changing, and Yuriy is getting bigger.  Besides, I need to get this work done for Al.  No time like the present.”

“You mean 3 a.m.” Winry shot back wryly as she placed her hands on her hips, “when our 2-year-old is finally sleeping, and we’ve got a full day of toddler tantrums ahead of us?  Why didn’t you just tell me it was hurting again?  Not for nothing, but I am one of the best automail mechanics around.  I think I know my way around human anatomy enough to ease a few tense muscles.”

Ed chuckled and rose from the couch, a merry glint in his light amber eyes.  “Well, not for nothing, but you are 25 weeks pregnant if I’m not mistaken.”  He wasn’t.  “What kind of husband would I be if I let you take care of me without taking care of you first?”

Ed moved quickly across the small living space and wrapped his arms around Winry.  His fingers moved restlessly, seeking purchase in the folds of her lightweight nightgown.  With eyes wide shut, she hummed as Ed reached around to massage the tight muscles of her lower back.  Winry buried her face in the soft cotton of his shirt, relishing the faint scent of sweat and freshly cut grass.  She loved Ed.  She loved being tenderly caressed by the warm hands that had never hesitated to pick her up when she was down.  To protect her just as she patched him back together time and time again.

Winry reluctantly summoned her wits in spite of Ed’s efforts and a raging case of momnesia.

“Not so fast, Edward,” Winry interjected, gently stepping back and placing a firm hand on her husband’s chest.  “Let’s have a look at that shoulder.  Then, you can take me upstairs and have your way with your bloated, pregnant wife.”

The glint in Ed’s eyes was inexplicably obscene.  “That a promise?”  

Winry rolled her eyes despite the smirk on her lips.  

“Take a seat, Fullmetal,” she said, gesturing toward the couch with an authoritative edge to her voice.  Though he practiced restraint, Ed’s features darkened hungrily as he took a seat on the floor near Winry’s usual perch on the couch, and if she had reminded him of a certain former commanding officer at that moment, he didn’t show it.

…

The bible according to Pinako Rockbell was pretty damn clear when it concerned the intersection of automail and pain.  It was merely the body’s way of communicating that something wasn’t working properly.  And though Winry still struggled to comprehend Edward’s refusal to dignify the pain he occasionally felt, she was all too familiar with his anatomy, right down to the battle scars hidden beneath the hem of his well-pressed shirts.

The young mother’s hands kneaded and pressed at her husband’s scarred skin, searching for knots and avoiding the places where she knew metal was permanently embedded within his flesh.  As her strokes turned long and languid, Winry felt Ed relax under her deft hands.  His arm and shoulder began to pulse as she stimulated blood flow alongside delicious friction and finally, she finished with a series of firm taps.

“Oh God, Winry,” Ed gasped.  “Do you have to tap it like that?  You’re killing the mood.”

“What mood?” she teased.  “Between the stretch marks and my swollen ankles, I don’t see how I can be the least bit appealing right now.  Then again, you are stuck with me.  I guess I can’t blame you for making the best of it.”

Winry’s words carried a self-deprecating edge, and she laughed with a good-natured timbre that belied the harsh truths sugarcoated by her humor.  The second time mother knew she’d grown bigger faster this time around.  Her ankles were puffy, and the stretch marks on her tummy had reasserted themselves in angry streaks of red.  Between her business and Yuriy, Winry found it difficult to think of herself as a sexual being, and honestly, Ed was more a partner in the trenches of childrearing than a lover now.

“Making the best of it?  Of our life together?” Ed scoffed.  “What makes you think that you aren’t exactly the person I want to be with?  Especially when you’re pregnant.”

“Especially when I’m pregnant?” Winry shot back.  “My stomach’s big.  My boobs are ridiculous.  In another month or so, I’ll be unable to see my feet.  Enlighten me, oh great alchemist, what’s there to like about all that?”

Ed paused in a rare show of speechlessness as he shifted at Winry’s feet and allowed his eyes to trace the outline of her figure.  It had been years since their first sleepless night together, but the way he looked at her was wondrous, reminiscent of their first fumbling time as well as the many happy endings they’d enjoyed after that.  Winry felt reborn when she considered herself from Ed’s perfective and saw all that she considered a nuisance as ancient symbols of power, unequaled by modern medicine or other mystic arts.

He took her hands in his and turned them, running his thumbs across her palms.  “I see hands that give life,” he said, kissing her callouses.  “And strong arms that cradle it lovingly.”

Ed turned his attention to her feet and massaged her ankles tenderly.  “I see legs that stood up for me when I couldn’t stand on my own.”  Winry shivered as she felt her husband place light kisses up her ankles, calves and thighs.  He gently pushed her nightgown up to reveal her round stomach, and as Winry’s pulse quickened, the baby inside her belly stirred.  Ed chuckled and pressed his hands against her, grinning as he felt his child’s movement.

“I love you like this,” he stated, almost breathless.  “I love seeing our child growing inside you, and you’ve got this raw, powerful beauty that makes me crazy.  You’re glowing, Winry.”

She started to tell him that it was just her acid reflux, but with those words, Ed kissed the top of her thigh near the plain white fabric of her panties.  Slowly, his tongue pressed against her, and Winry couldn’t hide the soft sigh which followed.  She leaned back, enjoying Ed’s attention as his mouth began sucking and pulling at her skin.  As was only fair, he repeated the same series on the inside of her other thigh, moving ever closer to her warm center.

As her breathing grew fevered Ed delved deeper, running his lips over the outside of her underwear in a way that made Winry sigh.  He sucked the fabric, and his fingers toyed with the low waistband, bowed by her growing baby bump.  One hand settled on the width of her hips, and again Ed caressed her belly as his tongue lapped at her through a pesky layer of cotton.

Winry moaned and pleaded for her pleasure until Ed finally kissed her clit.

“Oh, God!” Winry exclaimed, feeling both breathless and beautiful in the eyes of the person who mattered most.

He smirked in response, all humor and bravado intact.  “I prefer Ed.”

Winry laughed in a throaty register as she gave in to her husband’s skillful ministrations.  Pushing her panties to one side, his tongue set out to do its best, returning the favor for all Winry’s earlier efforts.  Ed was insufferable at times, Winry knew, and yet, as he cracked a blasphemous joke and ate her like it was his last supper, she couldn’t help but revel in her good fortune.  If no higher power had brought them together during their difficult childhoods or made them as mirror images of one another, being with him was a miracle all the same.

Like what you read?  Send me a prompt!

[doe-praefacioofblue]

Epilogue-Prelude of Things to Come

Praefacio of Blue, page 282-291

473 years later.

USE Dark Star Courthouse Director Gallerian Marlon ~In the Union State of Evillious, "Director's Private Residence/Study"~

 .

“Phew…”

I set the book that I had just finished reading on my desk, and stretched heavily against my chair.

Orange light shined in from the window in front of me on my right. It was already evening. A little bit of regret had sprouted in my mind at spending my precious day off reading, but I hadn't had any other plans to begin with. I was alright with having days off like this every once in a while.

Tomorrow my wife and daughter would be returning from their trip. Once that happened I would likely become quite busy with various things, so I wouldn't be able to take time to quietly read a book like this.

If it had been my own book, taking a long time to finish reading it wouldn't be an issue. But I was borrowing it. The owner wasn't liable to be pleased if I went a while without returning it. Interpersonal relationships were the sort of thing that could begin to break over such trivial matters.

Once more my eyes dropped to the book on my desk. On the cover was written the title “The Daughter of Evil”, and written a little smaller below that was the author’s name, in what appeared to be her own handwriting. It was evidence that this book was none other than a genuine novel written by the famous author of five hundred years ago, "Yukina Freezis".

Knock-knock—there was the sound of someone knocking twice on my door. That would be my servant, Rennert. Out of my servants, Larisa would knock three times, and Katerina would knock much more loudly--so they didn't sound as pleasing as this knock.

I gave permission to enter and the door opened, a face with a small mustache on it peeking his head in from the gap. As I thought, Rennert.

“Pardon me, sir. The scriptwriter, Lady ‘Ma’, has arrived.”

Perfect timing.

“Send her in.”

Rennert answered in the affirmative and then vanished from the room.

Shortly thereafter a single woman entered.

She had long black hair that reached to around her waist, and she wore both a round monocle and a garment of Eastern make called a "kimono". She was beautiful, but of course my eyes were first drawn to her eccentric style of dress.

It seemed that she had noticed the “Daughter of Evil” book was there on top of my desk. “I see you’ve started reading.”

“I’ve just finished, actually.”

“Oh, really?...Then, how was it? What are your thoughts?"

“It’s very different from the version of the “Daughter of Evil” that I know.”

The Freezis Fairytale that this same author had written was a work that even now was well known to people all over the world. In it, the princess was normally executed; it wasn’t written that she switched places with a twin brother.

In spite of the fact that it was written by the same person, the contents of this one were different.

“So, which one is correct?”

Ma pointed to the book in front of me. “This one, of course.”

"You can't just declare that. It's not like you actually saw it yourself."

“Hohoho…I suppose so. But without a doubt, this one is the truth. It is the true story, hidden on the other side of history."

"Hmph. Are you trying to say that sorceresses and demons exist? …Well, whatever. It was a very interesting read. I was able to learn a little bit more about my roots--my ancestry."

I’d known from the start that I was from the royal Marlon family line.

Kyle Marlon was my ancestor. After he restored Lucifenia to independence as a republic, he had abdicated the throne to his younger half-brother and left Marlon.

If he had stayed as king, there was a possibility that I would be a member of the royal family as well. Still, it would be unreasonable of me to hold a grudge against him for that--I couldn't deny that being in the social status that I was now was ultimately owed to my lineage, after all.

I stood from my chair and handed the book over to Ma.

“Then do you intend to make this into a movie, after all?”

When I asked my question, Ma looked at me with flirtatious eyes and put her hand on my arm.

“If I can find a good sponsor….maybe.”

I lightly waved my arm and brushed off Ma's hand.

"You'll have to pardon me. I like movies but I have no inclination to use money on such an extravagance."

The moment she heard those words, all the affection dropped off Ma's face. Looking displeased, she took out a long-stemmed tobacco pipe from her sleeve. Ignoring my remark that this room was non-smoking she lit up the bowl and leisurely started to smoke.

“You’re such a skinflint. You have enough hoarded up as it is."

Ma began to wander around the room. Then she stopped in front of my dresser, picking up a picture frame that was left on top of it.

In that picture, my wife, daughter and I had been photographed smiling together.

While looking at the picture, Ma said suggestively, “Your wife is coming back home tomorrow, isn’t she?...”

I scowled at her.

"Are you threatening me? If you reveal our relationship to my wife--"

Ma suddenly started to laugh loudly. “Hahaha, I have no intention of doing that. That wouldn't be very refined of me, would it!"

She returned the picture to where it was.

After that a long silence stretched on between us.

Eventually, unable to stand the awkward atmosphere any longer, I posed Ma a question to clear the air.

“Come to think of it, does that book have a continuation?”

“A continuation?”

"I'm curious as to whether those characters show up again."

“Ah. There is that, yes. But it's a simple thing, like a memorandum. Shall I bring it next time?"

“…No, that’s alright. You can just tell me the most of it here and now."

I had decided to ask for an explanation regarding what happened to the characters afterwards, to continue the conversation. I knew that Ma liked talking about such things.

The first thing that I was interested in related to those two sorceresses.

"Their names, Gumillia and Elluka, show up again in another book that takes place over a hundred years after this one, don't they?"

“In 'Lemy the Ripper', yes.”

Lemy the Ripper was the name of the culprit behind a series of bizarre murders that occurred in the Republic of Lucifenia, around four hundred years ago. The case was closed as a result of Lemy having been murdered himself, and written in the book as the names of the duo of women who killed him were, if I was not mistaken, "Gumillia and Elluka". If these sorceresses were able to live forever, then I couldn't deny there was a chance that they were the same women.

According to Ma, all that was written in Yukina Freezis' work was that they traveled east. They might have returned to the Evillious region after their journey, but as Yukina was already dead by the time of "Lemy the Ripper" there was no real proof on whether or not it was really them.

Speaking of "Lemy the Ripper", there was another interesting anecdote with that.

There was a woman named "Julia Abelard", who was known as the leader of "Pere Noel", the criminal organization that he was a member of. There were a lot of mysteries surrounding her origins, and many legends being passed around about it in the modern era.

One of those was the preposterous theory that Julia Abelard was the reincarnation of the hero of the Lucifenian Revolution, Germaine Avadonia, or else Germaine herself, having become immortal through being taken in by some cursed power.

Apparently Yukina Freezis wrote that Germaine went out on another trip with Chartette after everything, but she never touched on the prime of her life or her death.

Even in publicly known history, despite her achievements Germaine's latter years weren't entirely clear. It was for that reason that the earlier theories started sprouting up.

If objects like the "Vessels of Deadly Sin" really existed, then perhaps the idea that Julia Abelard's true identity was Germaine Avadonia had a ring of truth to it after all.

…Assuming it's all true, anyway.

“Why was Abyss IR gathering the ‘Vessels of Deadly Sin’?”

I wasn't directing the question at Ma, rather just musing to myself aloud, but she didn't seem to grasp that.

“Because it’s said that if you gather all seven together, any wish you make will be granted,” Ma replied.

Any wish, huh? What a romanticized outcome, considering these were vessels of demons.

“Have you taken an interest in that? If you like, we could go search for them together. Actually, I do have some good informa—“

"No thank you." I cut off Ma's excited proposal to search for the "Vessels of Deadly Sin". "I would need money for that, wouldn't I?"

"Yes, of course," Ma replied, as though it was just natural.

“I don’t need any ‘Vessel of Deadly Sin’.”

Upon my flat refusal, Ma gave off a somehow bold smile.

"Yes…Is that so?"

After she carried her put-out pipe to the fireplace and dropped its ashes inside, she returned it to her sleeve.

“I’ll be heading home, then.”

I called out to stop her as she was walking towards the exit. “Just to be clear, I must insist that you not tell my wife about any of th--"

“I know. You don’t want to cause any grief for Michelle, right?” Immediately after opening the door, Ma suggested with her back to me, “If you change your mind about the movie and the ‘Vessels of Deadly Sin’…Let me know."

After watching her leave, I once more sat in my chair.

I had social status and prestige. I had a daughter I loved.

I didn’t need any ‘Vessel of Deadly Sin’—

At least, that is what I thought at the time, from the bottom of my heart.

Before I knew it, it seemed I’d fallen asleep sitting in my chair.

Rennert was shaking me awake.

“Sir, sir! It’s simply awful!”

I opened my eyes preparing to chide him, 'what is it, I thought I told you to knock when entering my room', but Rennert continued speaking faster than I could cut in.

"Your wife and young miss Michelle have met with an accident."

Everything before me became pitch black. Even though I had just opened my eyes, I was no longer able to see anything.

“It seems the ship they were on sank! Just as it entered the harbor it was attacked by an enormous octopus the likes of which I've never seen—“

“The Vessels of Deadly Sin”, “Demons”.

That story had nothing to do with me.

I had thought it just a fairytale.

But—

.

This karma of “evil” will not end.

<<prev------directory

[debofskylaw]

How to File a Winning ERISA Claim

What is ERISA?

ERISA is an acronym for the Employee Retirement Income Security Act, a law passed by Congress in 1974 aimed at protecting the rights of employees who participate in their employers’ benefit plans and their dependents.  ERISA applies to a host of employee benefits – pensions, 401k and 403b plans, disability, health, and life benefits, along with severance and other benefits administered by employers.  

ERISA applies to the private sector and does not encompass state, federal, or municipal employers, although it may apply to government employee benefit claims if the benefits are provided by a labor organization.  Another significant exemption is “church plans,” which are benefits sponsored by religious organizations.

What is an ERISA Claim?

Any claim for benefits brought under a private sector or union sponsored employee benefit program is an ERISA claim.

How Can I Determine My Rights to Bring an ERISA Claim?

Federal law requires that employers provide employees with a summary plan description that provides information about claims and how to go about submitting a claim for benefits, along with deadlines for submitting claims.

How Do I File an ERISA Claim?

Different types of claims have different claim procedures.  Human resources personnel should be able to explain the process.  Here are some specifics as to different types of claims:

Retirement – Depending on the nature of the claim (i.e., pension or 401k), the employee needs to complete a set of forms specifying how and to whom benefits are to be paid. The election is usually irrevocable, so the employee should understand and make sure they are making the correct election, which may require assistance from a financial advisor.  If the employee is married, any election other than a joint and survivor annuity, such as choosing a lump sum distribution of retirement funds, requires spousal consent.

Disability – There are three parts to a disability claim – the employee statement, the employer statement, and the attending physician statement.  The employee describes their impairment and lists their treating doctors on the employee statement, the employer lists dates of employment, salary and job duties on its statement, and the attending physician needs to certify disability.  Employees should not start the disability application process without being sure they have support from their treating doctor.

Health Benefits– Most health benefit claims are routine and are submitted directly by the doctor or hospital.  However, claims that require pre-approval or claims involving highly expensive services such as newly developed drugs or certain medical devices, and many types of behavioral health treatment may require a letter of medical necessity from the treating doctor before approval.  Claimants should make sure that their physicians are ready and willing to back up their claims.  With certain pharmaceuticals and medical devices, the manufacturer may be able to provide resources.

Life Insurance/Accidental Death Insurance – In most instances, all that is necessary to complete an application for benefits is proof of beneficiary designation, a copy of the official death certificate, and completion of a form listing name, address, and other demographic information from the claimant.  However, if an autopsy was performed, it can be useful to have a copy of the report available prior to submitting a claim.  Or in accidental situations where there was law enforcement involvement, such as a fatal car accident, it would be advisable to obtain a copy of the police report.

What Happens After the Claim is Submitted

The claim will be reviewed by the insurance company or designated benefits personnel.  Depending on the nature of the claim, there are deadlines imposed by the U.S. Department of Labor for rendering a claim decision.  Delays may occur if the insurer or benefit administrator needs to gather additional evidence such as medical records, police reports, and medical examiner/coroner evidence

What Happens if the Claim is Denied?

If a claim denial is issued, claimants are usually obligated to submit an appeal with the benefit plan administrator as a precondition to challenging the denial in court.  Many types of claims have very short time deadlines for appeals such as health insurance claims classified as “urgent,” i.e., where the patient’s life is in jeopardy or the patient is in severe pain.  Appeal deadlines in such matters can be as short as three days

ERISA claim appeals can be very complex.  The U.S. Department of Labor has issued a comprehensive set of regulations addressing ERISA claims and appeals.  ERISA appeals are a legal procedure and often require an attorney’s assistance to navigate through the complex ERISA appeal process.  An experienced and knowledgeable attorney will know how to handle the appeal by gathering the necessary additional evidence that may be required and to present a winning argument to overturn an unjustified denial.   Another reason to get an attorney involved early in the appeal process is that if the appeal is unsuccessful, a court may not consider new evidence, so the failure to get an attorney involved until after an appeal is denied could prove to be fatal to recovering benefits later.

Deadlines for appeals are critical. Submitting an appeal even one day late could result in a loss of benefits that cannot later be challenged in court.

Once the appeal is submitted, the claim decision can generally take up to 90 days.  For disability claims, if the insurer or benefit administrator obtains evidence during the appeal that is adverse to the claimant, that evidence must be shared and the claimant given an opportunity to comment before the appeal decision is rendered.

What if the Appeal is Denied?

If the appeal is denied, the next step is to bring a lawsuit.  Because ERISA is a federal law, most ERISA benefit cases are heard in federal court, although state courts also have jurisdiction if both sides agree to keep the case there.  Court rulings have determined that jury trials are not available in ERISA cases; and other procedures differ in ERISA cases from other types of litigation.  For example, most courts put limits on “discovery” in ERISA cases, meaning that depositions and other types of information gathering that typically takes place in civil lawsuits is curtailed.  

As mentioned above, there may also not be an opportunity to submit new or additional evidence in court.  Once the appeal is completed, most court render a verdict based exclusively on the record assembled during the course of the claim and ensuing appeal.  

ERISA litigation may take months to years depending on the judge and how quickly the case progresses.  While some cases are decided following bench trials, in most circumstances, the cases are decided by a court reviewing the claim record and addressing arguments presented by each side without the court hearing witness testimony.

In ERISA litigation, it is possible in some instances to convince a court that the denial was mistaken but the claimant still loses.  This occurs where the court applies a judicial standard of review known as the abuse of discretion or arbitrary and capricious standard.  If that paradigm applies, and its application depends on language contained in the policy that signals the insurance company had “discretion” to decide the matter, the denial decision is presumed correct and will be overturned only if it is found “unreasonable,” a daunting standard for claimants to meet.  That is why it is so important for claimants to make sure they are represented by experienced and knowledgeable counsel who have handled similar cases and know how to present the most favorable arguments.  If the litigation is successful, the court may, but does not necessarily have to, award attorneys’ fees to the claimant in addition to accrued benefits.  Fees are not recoverable, though, at the claim appeal stage.

ERISA claims are often very complex and difficult.  Finding an experienced and knowledgeable ERISA claim lawyer early in the claim process is often the ticket to success.

[leonanette]

Another Strange Visit

A/N: Hello! Just thought I’d drop in to reassure you that I haven’t completely given up on tumblr yet. So, here’s one of the fanfictions I’ve posted on Archiveofourown during my away period. If you want to read it there, here’s the link. If you want to read it here, then read away.

A lot of my Dishonored 2 fanfictions are my way of addressing some of the things that annoyed me in the writing. In this case, it’s the fact that Emily never answered back to Delilah in the Void when the latter was telling her backstory. She should have at least tried to defend her mother’s actions and Jessamine’s voice sounded fearful, not sneaky, when she accused Delilah of breaking the ornament so it’s obvious to me she did it to avoid punishment than any deliberate malice.

Speaking of which, that’s a stupid reason to kick off the whole revenge against the Kaldwins plot so I added a more satisfying one.

Right, I’d better stop there or I’ll give the whole thing away.

“But, I want to come to court like Jessamine.”

“I told you, dear, when you’re older. Perhaps, next year.”

“You said that last year! Jessamine’s younger than me and she’s at court every day.”

“Jessamine is – well, it’s complicated. You’ll understand someday.”

“What did I do? I’ll be good, I swear.”

“Next year, I promise.”

The vision faded in blue flames and a bridge to the next platform emerged. However, Emily did not follow the path at once. She looked around for Delilah but, seeing nothing, she settled for speaking to the Void in general.

“You do know Euhorn Kaldwin was never going to keep that promise, don’t you? No one would ever allow the daughter of a kitchen maid at court.”

“Of course, I know that now.” Delilah’s disembodied voice retorted, “But, I was a child and my mother had taught me that a promise was a promise. How was I to know then how much pleasure men took in toying with a young girl’s hopes?”

“I’m not saying it was right.”

Delilah deigned not to answer and the bridge remained in place so Emily had no choice but to go on to the next vision.

*

“I didn’t break it!”

“Would you like to tell me who did?”

“We were just playing.”

“Young Lady Jessamine? What’s your account of the matter?”

“It was her! Delilah’s lying. She broke it.”

The vision of her mother as a child faded but not the stab in Emily’s heart. She could not let her mother go undefended.

“My mother was just a child. She only wanted to avoid trouble. You would have done in the same in that position.”

“True,” Delilah replied without reappearing again, “but who would have believed me? Against the word of a princess, the word of a servant is worth less than nothing!”

Emily could not reply but stalked to the next island.

*

“My mother is sick. She needs help.”

“Your mother kicked off while you were out begging. She’s another bag of bones now, girl.”

“What? No!”

“Her sentence is served and she’ll be tossed out with the others. You can’t stay here anymore.”

The last vision faded and a white portal appeared before her but Emily didn’t move an inch. She whirled around and faced the Void.

“All this over a broken ornament and an empty promise? I’m sorry you suffered. Truly, I am. But your revenge isn’t worth all the chaos you’ve caused.”

This time, Delilah reappeared in a flash of flame and shadow, her arms folded and a scornful look on her face, “You’re hardly one to talk. Are you about to tell me that all that silver in Dunwall Tower is worth all those dead Karnacan miners?”

Not even the piercing cold of the Void could stop Emily’s face burning. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to goad Delilah, even at that moment, but she could not leave the Void without trying to wipe that smirk off her face.

“I hope you’re not relying on your father’s promise to secure your legitimacy. Anyone could tell you that bastard daughters of servants can’t be Empresses.”

“And, where does that logic leave you?” Delilah’s smirk grew wider, “The bastard daughter of a Serkonan guttersnipe?”

“My mother and father were married when I was born. They kept it secret because no one would approve - ”

Delilah cut her off, “Ha! That marriage certificate was forged by your father just before your coronation to stop anyone casting doubts on your legitimacy. It hardly matters now, of course. If you had just stayed in the Tower like a good girl, you’d know by now that the record no longer exists.”

An isolated rational pocket of Emily’s mind ordered her not to rise but her anger was too hot to leave without one last shot, “Even if my parents weren’t married, they at least loved each other. I don’t know about relations between Emperors and maids personally but I know the maids generally don’t get a choice in the matter.”

She got the brief pleasure of seeing Delilah’s smirk vanish and a dull flush creep up her wasted cheeks. Then, her face hardened, “And, what makes you think Jessamine’s parents was any different? Nobility can’t choose who they wed. Not even the daughter of a Tyvian High Judge can say no to an Emperor, whether it’s at the alter or the bedchamber. I’m living proof of what their marriage truly was.” Delilah spoke over Emily, “Emperor Euhorn Kaldwin preferred the company of obedient maids over his headstrong wife. He only got her with child to stop her leaving him and causing a scandal he could ill-afford. They thought Jessamine’s birth would solve their difficulties but they were very mistaken.”

She went on with the air of someone who’d been dying to let it all out for years, “My mother told me just before she died what Euhorn’s promise to me really meant. He used me as a threat to his wife and daughter. If they didn’t give him his way in everything, he’d threaten to disinherit Jessamine and legitimise me as his heir. So, Empress Beatrix got her revenge the only way she could: by never losing an opportunity to remind me for my place or,” Her eyes flashed with rage, “to get rid of me. She and the Spymaster knew Jessamine had broken the ornament but they didn’t care. Jessamine had handed them the opportunity to throw out Euhorn’s pawn on a silver plate! She probably did it willingly too, bribed by sweeties and pretty dresses.”

Delilah paused for breath, glowering at Emily with all the accumulated rage towards every member of the Kaldwin family. Before Emily could think of the best response, she composed herself and sneered, “What makes you so sure your father and mother were in love in the first place? Your father may have been her Royal Protector but he was still a servant for all that and, as you said a moment ago, servants don’t get a choice in these matters.”

Emily’s head felt like it was going to explode. Yet, she managed to restrain herself from shouting her last strike at Delilah, “I know my father loved my mother. He still loves her, even fifteen years after her death. I don’t think you can say the same for your parents, can you?”

SMACK!

Delilah closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and the force of her blow nearly knocked Emily off the platform. She tried to get back onto steady footing but wasn’t quick enough. Delilah’s hands, as cold as the Void and firm as the stone beneath them, clamped around her neck.

“Your mother and grandmother loved nothing better than demeaning me too. You’ll end up as they did soon enough, whether by the Duke’s forces or mine! Now, you misbegotten unmanageable whelp, get out of my sight!” She flung Emily backwards into the white portal and the Void was gone. Instead, the ceiling of her cabin came into view and a throbbing pain bloomed where her head had hit the floor.

Well, Emily thought as she picked herself up and rearranged the hair, I suppose that went a little better that my last meeting with Delilah.

She felt a tug at her left hand and the Heart materialised by itself. With it, pale as an opal, the spirit of her mother appeared. Emily flushed. For a moment, she thought she was going to a reprimand for her belligerence.

“I am with you, even in the Void. If only I could do more. If only I had done more. My mother told me that, if I blamed Delilah for something very bad, she would take me on a tour of the Isles. It wasn’t until much later that I realised what a terrible thing I had done. I am to blame for Delilah’s bitterness.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Emily asserted, “You didn’t ask to be a pawn in your parents’ war.” On another thought, she added, “No more than Delilah did. Besides, Delilah chose to hold onto her grudge. She could have let it go and made the best of what she had without venting her misery on everyone else but here we are.”

“Our decisions have weight. I feel my time drawing to an end. Soon.”

Bit by bit, she vanished away, as did the Heart from Emily’s hand. In front of her was her desk, her travel log open. She slumped into her seat and began to write:

‘Things to do when I’m back in Dunwall:

1 - Make sure the workers of the Isles are well-cared for, no matter what the cost.

2 – Listen to servants more often and believe them more often.

3 – Marry Wyman immediately.’

She felt she fully understood why her mother had never married a noble, not even for appearances, to legitimise Emily or for power. Her mother had seen what marrying for political reasons did and learned that the accompanying personal strife would far outweigh any political advantage. She also knew that making her marriage to Corvo public would cause uproar in the nobility. So, she had compromised brilliantly, following her heart and navigating her way around scandal with distinction.

Emily vowed to follow her example.

A/N: It's not unreasonable to think that it was a marriage arranged to unify the Isles during the Morley Insurrection. In addition, Euhorn needed a well-born, well-connected wife to strengthen his claim to the throne so it's quite realistic to think that it was a marriage of convenience that was a better idea on paper than it was in practise. The very fact that Delilah exists in the first place and was born before Jessamine on top of that suggests it wasn't a happy union.

Not to mention, it's well-known how damaging a toxic marriage can be to their children and even their children's children, long after they're gone.

[eichy815]

You Forgot The Unisex Bathrooms

Originally Published on June 20, 2015 on Eichy Says

Many of you may remember, back in 2004, when same-sex marriage was a contentious topic as part of the national dialogue.  Karl Rove led the Bush Administration and the Republican Party in turning it into a “wedge issue” to mobilize evangelicals and socially-conservative voters.  

Meanwhile, countless Democrats shied away from the discussion – either taking middle-of-the-road stances that embraced civil unions, or simply sidestepping the issue altogether (when asked for their opinions on it).  Some brave progressive Democrats embraced gay marriage outright, while a handful of conservative Democrats scoffed at how even the mere compromise of allowing same-sex civil unions would be “going too far.”

The GOP used that hot button issue as a way of motivating fundamentalists to flock to the Bush/Cheney ticket – and, in the same fell swoop – dividing establishment Democrats over how to address it.

This tactic was particularly effective in the Deep South, where it (at least in part) helped give the edge to Republican candidates farther down the ticket (as the GOP picked up U.S. Senate seats in Louisiana, Georgia, Florida, South Carolina, North Carolina, and, in the Midwest, South Dakota).

I was a college student at the time, and my campus held a televised debate on this topic that spring.  Unlike the screaming matches from CNN’s 1982-2005 debate show, Crossfire, this exchange (hosted by our student-run closed-circuit campus TV station) offered civilized decorum from participants on both sides.  Two of my friends from our on-campus LGBT student organization, Marcy and Greg, argued the “pro” side; representing the “con” side were the then-president of the College Republicans along with a local youth ministry leader.

My favorite part of the debate was when the College Republicans’ chapter president expressed that legalizing same-sex marriage could supposedly become harmful by causing confusion in terms of gender roles.  He added, as an afterthought:  “How long will it be before we stop having separate restrooms for women and men?”

To which Marcy replied, casually and matter-of-factly:

“Well, you forgot the unisex bathrooms.”

And the audience (admittedly filled with college-aged supporters of same-sex marriage) proceeded to laugh uproariously.  But not out of ridicule – their laughter was largely supportive...due to Marcy having pointed out the absurdity of the guy’s logic.

In recent weeks, the public glimpse that Caitlyn Jenner has given us into her gender-based transformation only underscores what a continuing debate this will be.  Jenner, who has transitioned out of her former identity as a beloved Olympian named Bruce to a woman who now will be able to live her true self, is receiving a largely positive response from Americans – but also a firestorm of negativity from social conservatives and paleoconservatives who seem to believe rigid gender roles should still be promoted across-the-board.

These latter outdated attitudes were echoed by former Arkansas Governor (and current Republican presidential candidate) Mike Huckabee during a Nashville campaign stop earlier this month.  

While speaking in front of the National Religious Broadcasters Convention, Huckabee opined

:

Now I wish that someone had told me that when I was in high school that I could have felt like a woman when it came time to take showers in PE.  I’m pretty sure that I would have found my feminine side and said, ‘Coach, I think I’d rather shower with the girls today.’ [in response to audience laughter] You’re laughing because it sounds so ridiculous, doesn’t it?

It’s clear that Huckabee is missing the point (or, he’s intentionally trying to misrepresent the discussion in order to advance his own twisted ideology).  

Gender-neutral spaces are not about forcing people outside of their comfort zones.  Rather, it’s a solution to create “safe spaces” for people who don’t cling to gender binaries...as well as families who want their children to be protected.

Many TV fans recall the 1997-2002 legal dramedy Ally McBeal, which was set in a law firm with its iconic unisex restroom frequented by female and male employees alike.

But life often imitates art.   A growing number of public meeting places, recreational facilities, college campuses, and even K-12 schools, are retrofitting their communal areas with bathrooms or changing rooms accessible to citizens of all gender identities.

Historically, the trend of segregating public restrooms in the Western World began in the early-Eighteenth Century, and picked up steam (particularly in America) throughout the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries.  The U.S. seems to maintain some of the most puritanical attitudes toward shared-gender spaces, as many restroom/changing areas throughout Europe are unisex in the modern era.

Yet, sex-segregated spaces have historical precedent, as well.  Ancient Greek and Ancient Roman societies mandated separate public bathing areas for males and females.  Japanese onsen are geothermally-heated hot springs – with some indoors, some outdoors, some sex-segregated, and some mixed gender.

My view is that history, when coupled with contemporary social norms, would suggest there can be room for both options in our society.  Because of the status quo favoring sex-segregated private spaces, it’s incumbent upon those of us who support modernized options to make a case for them.

The first – and perhaps timeliest – benefit of having more unisex bathrooms is to provide spaces where transgender people can feel more comfortable.  Visually speaking, people who are transitioning from male-to-female or female-to-male are often mistaken by others for the opposite sex of that with which they identify.  This can lead to awkward encounters and misunderstandings where a transgender person is being accused of using the “wrong” restroom.

Having a unisex bathroom or changing room available would alleviate the problem.

This dynamic even extends beyond people who are taking hormones or actively preparing for gender-reassignment surgery.  Sometimes there are Americans who AREN’T actually transgender...yet, they outwardly possess sexually-ambiguous traits that might cause a male to be mistaken for a female, or a female for a male.  What happens when a “traditional-looking” female screams in fear because she sees another female – who might physically appear “mannish” or “tomboyish” – enter the private space, and she mistakes that female for a male (even though the female-in-question might be neither male nor transgender, despite the perception that she doesn’t look “feminine enough”).

When it comes to unisex bathrooms, transgender people aren’t asking for unreasonable privileges (or “special rights”).  There is a clear constructive benefit to such facilities that affects others as well.

This isn’t solely a “transgender issue.”  Having unisex rest areas can also serve the interests of traditional (or modern) families.  For example, what about instances when one parent is the only chaperone accompanying a child of the opposite sex out in public?  A mother can’t accompany her young son into the men’s room, nor can a father accompany his young daughter into the ladies’ room.  This dynamic accounts for why we’re seeing a rising trend of “family changing rooms” (which are unisex, by definition) at YMCAs or other facilities with swimming pools.

It’s especially relevant when mothers are afraid to send their sons into a men’s restroom or men’s locker room alone due to the possibility of male pedophiles being present.  It tends to be less of a concern to fathers that their unaccompanied daughters will be confronted by females in a women’s restroom or women’s locker room (although I feel that this mindset irresponsibly gives female pedophiles a free pass).  Yet, when women bring little boys (or preteen boys) into a female-only changing room or bathroom – or when men bring little girls (or preteen girls) into a male-only changing room or bathroom – that violates the comfort level of patrons who are using those respective rooms (as well as, potentially, the comfort level of the children themselves).

The best way to avoid these tricky scenarios would be if unisex bathrooms and changing rooms were more prevalent in more places.

Then there are the realities of gender inequity.  Currently, in most places, the women’s restrooms will get full a lot more quickly than male restrooms.  Obviously, it’s because (anatomically speaking) women require more bathroom stalls more frequently than men do.  

Due to this disparity, the lines (and waits!) become a lot longer in front of the ladies’ room than in front of the men’s room.  If there were more restrooms where all people were welcome (unisex), that would certainly alleviate (at least, in part) high traffic through the ladies’ room, as patrons of the unisex bathrooms would probably be disproportionately female.

Finally, there’s the matter of supervision in schools or at youth centers where parents can’t regularly remain in proximity to their own children.  At present, there’s a double standard in our schools where female staff and faculty members are viewed as “more trustworthy” than their male counterparts (again, probably due to the greater rates of reported pedophilia from males).  Yet, this often shortchanges boys in our schools because they, numerically speaking, have fewer male role models whom they can look up to.

I’m living proof of this.  In 2008, I was hired at a local elementary school as a playground/noontime aide.  I believe (and was told, in so many words) that one major reason why I was hired was because the staff had a higher ratio of female staffers, and the principal and vice-principal (both of whom were females) wanted more male authority figures on their staff.

The point is that the presence of some optional unisex changing areas or bathrooms in schools or after-school centers would enable adequate staff supervision of girls and boys alike – regardless of whether the staff itself has a higher female or male skew.  It would also be beneficial in scenarios where faculty/staffers are supervising coed groups of children with special needs.  Out in the public sphere, it would accommodate adults with severe disabilities who might be accompanied by a caretaker of the opposite sex.  And it could make some supervision tasks easier for lifeguards at pools or counselors who run youth programs.  

Plus, these public spaces could be cleaned by custodians with less awkwardness – regardless of whether the custodian happens to be female or male.

Of course, I’m not suggesting that unisex bathrooms (or unisex locker rooms) be the ONLY option in public places.  As it is, lack of funding and space limitations make the integration of new unisex restrooms (as part of existing facilities) a major challenge.

I don’t support colleges, universities, and K-12 schools making unisex spaces into the ONLY option for students.  Whenever we divert from the status quo, people should always be given a choice.  Some women prefer to only shower, urinate, and change clothes in front of other women.  Likewise with men who’d rather limit their showering, urination, and changing clothes to being done in front of other men.  For this reason, sex-segregated facilities should remain as an option in our schools, restaurants, gyms, day spas, and athletic centers.

I wouldn’t have wanted to use a communal dorm bathroom (used by both guys and girls) back when I was in college, because I was a bit modest and preferred only letting other guys see me in various stages of undress (at least, when I was sober).

However, if I have to use the bathroom really badly in a particular (emergency) instance, I wouldn’t mind using a unisex bathroom as long as I had access to a private stall.

So how can we accommodate the needs of different people?

One solution is for cities and municipalities to mandate that all single-occupancy restrooms be made “unisex” by definition.  Last year, such an ordinance was proposed in Austin, Texas.

When it comes to children, teenagers, and young adults, the key is to give them the option ahead of time.  For instance, the University of Missouri (MU) will provide gender-neutral bathrooms and gender-neutral housing as opportunities for its students this upcoming fall.  However, students who wish to live there will have to sign an agreement in advance consenting to living in housing with these unisex features.

State Representative Jeff Pogue (who represents a southeastern district of Missouri) has taken a page from Huckabee’s bluster by sponsoring two bills:  one to outlaw this practice altogether, and one to ban any public funding for gender-neutral spaces.

Another remedy would be to repurpose some existing restrooms so there are unisex options in each building.  Perhaps the men’s room and women’s room on the second floor of a building could remain sex-segregated after renovation; but the men’s room and the women’s room on that same building’s first floor could both be renovated into unisex restrooms (that are also handicap-accessible).

This has been done on a smaller scale within the Oconomowoc School District (in Wisconsin).  Some restrooms previously designated as “faculty-only” have been repurposed into unisex bathrooms available for additional student/parent use.

Above all else, unisex facilities need to be made into a core element of future infrastructure funding.  This can be done at both the state and federal levels; it’s just a matter of letting lawmakers know that usage of them would be a citizen’s individual choice...instead of a coercive, across-the-board building code.

Please make this clear to the skeptics, whenever you hear them question the clarity of having unisex bathrooms.  We cannot allow self-serving bigots such as Huckabee and Pogue to hijack the narrative.

[veekay2321]

Buffalo Bill & How Social Media Networks

Identity Theft is a term that is often related to social security cards, bank accounts, online information, and hackers. However, identity theft is nothing new. The idea of taking people’s identity as their own has been around since biblical times. A notable era of prevalent identity theft is the Wild West era, which was in the 19th century. Friesen discusses the life of Buffalo Bill and the many newspaper articles that would be released with incorrect information, as well as death announcements for the same man. Identity Theft in the 19th century wasn’t known as identity theft. It was known as being an imposter or impersonating somebody else. It usually didn’t have anything to do with stealing anything, but instead dealt with claiming to be somebody you were not or a claim to fame by relation. Buffalo Bill was a symbol for the American Frontier. He worked on a wagon train, the gold rush in Colorado, and rode for the Pony Express. He also served as a scout for the Union Army during the last years of the American Civil War. He received by killing 4,280 buffalo during an 18-month stint for the Kansas Pacific Railroad in the late 1860s and was deemed to have an expert shot. He then began performing in shows that depicted life as a cowboy on the frontier and the wild west. His legend began spreading when he was 23 years old. So as far as the wild west was concerned, he was a celebrity. The article by Friesen explains that because the technology wasn’t available, and social media wasn’t invented or even thought about, identity theft was a lot easier. Impersonating somebody, or claiming to be somebody you weren’t, was very easy. Cameras were being used in the 19th century, but due to the lack of quality, it was easy to resemble somebody and be mistaken. Also, newspapers often would just print a description of the person and not an actual image. As Friesen states, anybody with a mustache, goatee and long hair could and would pose as buffalo bill. There were so many people who were either claiming to be buffalo bill or claiming to be related to him in some manner, that it made piecing history together rather difficult. They would have to trace his exact travel paths to see if the crimes these people are claiming happened by Buffalo Bill were possible in the time and space it happened. For instance, on March 22, 1876, a newspaper article came out that claimed Buffalo Bill shot the town sheriff through the heart and killed him. However, after researching Buffalo Bill’s true whereabouts they knew that he had just performed a show in Indiana and then continued to Pennsylvania and Ohio, which would have made it impossible for him to be in Texas on that date. There were multiple Buffalo Bills, but there was only one William “Buffalo Bill” Cody, and even more imposters of buffalo bill. The crimes were stacking against buffalo bill, and sometimes he would get arrested for it and other times it would be his imposters. Nobody truly knew who the criminals were or who was responsible for the crime. This was popular in the 19th century. Likewise, people were able to die multiple times due to incorrect information being printed. Mark Twain made the famous statement “The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated” and Buffalo Bill wrote a letter to his friend saying “The newspapers think it’s up to them to kill me off every little while. During the Indian Wars, they killed me about once a month, now about three times a year. But I’m still kicking.” People would take on the identity as Buffalo Bill mainly to possess his invisibility of never being caught and also being a dangerous man. Also, this allowed many true criminals to get off the hook and this one man to take the wrap for all of it. As Friesen says, imitation was not always flattery. In some ways, technology has made it easier for people to steal other’s identity, and in some ways harder. Of course, there are privacy settings in place, encryption, and levels of security on certain information that is online. There is less protection on social media. People’s identities are now able to be duplicated online and transformed into a new person. Although it does not seem common, social media identity theft affects millions of consumers every year. The harm for the victim racks up in hours spent solving the problem and cash to provide the technical support. This issue is not on the cover page of mainstream media concerns but with the increased hacks, it soon will be. There are many factors that, combined together, are the reason for social media identity theft: the lack of knowledge among the consumer base about privacy settings, the at-ease nature people have with social media, the business aspect of social media platforms, and the lack of discipline of these platforms to implement and police user-friendly and hacker-proof sites. The way these platforms up raise their revenue is through targeted advertising which happens through the access of personal information in the database. Because of this, platforms usually encourage and often times force, to some extent, that users share personal information. These platforms have also the ability to track someone’s social media presence and how often and influential they are through algorithms. They can send personal messages encouraging posting, tweeting, etc. For example, Instagram will send a notification letting you know that you have not posted in weeks and that everyone is wondering what you are up to. Obviously, this is not the case but the simple reminder that you have not posted in a while triggers the instinct to and the more social you are on these platforms, the more you risk identity theft. The most common personal information facts that are later used to steal identities are full names (especially middle names), date of birth (which is the majority of the time required by sites to be filled out), hometown, relationship status, school location/graduation dates, pet names and other information. The answer to this issue is not canceling all social media accounts. The first step is to become educated on how to protect yourself and those around you. Take advantage of the present privacy settings provided to you by whatever social platform you are using, make unique passwords and different passwords for different sites and change them often. Simple steps like this can significantly decrease the likelihood of someone getting access and being able to steal your identity.

Like in the western times, there was no guaranteed way to prevent your identity being stolen. It is not something many people plan for. The two readings also show that this issue has been around for centuries and the means of stealing may have changed but the human urge has not. 

How Social Media Networks Facilitates Identity Theft and Fraud: https://www.eonetwork.org/octane-magazine/special-features/social-media-networks-facilitate-identity-theft-fraud

Buffalo Bill Murder? Identity Theft in the Wild West: http://goldentoday.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/BB_Summer_2015_newsletter.pdf

[venessat-blog]

How To Buy Funeral Insurance coverage

While you want to get life insurance coverage in Australia, you will need to make sure that you have sufficient coverage to cowl a funeral plan. It is because it's essential ensure that any coverage you get will cowl the entire bills of your dying as well as any other issues it's possible you'll leave behind for your family to handle. Look at different choices and have a plan as to what you will do and how it will all be paid for.

A affected person's medical historical past can have a profound impact on life insurance coverage eligibility and rates. For instance, any person who has lived successfully with bipolar disorder can qualify where any person with a history of a number of, frequent episodes would not. Time is a significant factor on this decision, in accordance with Rogers. The longer a patient has had success with the same course of treatment, the higher her prospects are.

Though you're going through a novel expertise, still there are various folks just like you on the market who lost their dearest liked one or mother. And then they made a particular, heartfelt poem for their funeral.

That is good as it does not lock your beneficiary to using a particular funeral dwelling. It does raise the risk of the insurance being tempted to spend the cash on something else akin to ultimate medical expense. These policies can get advanced and embrace money worth accumulation features.

No matter what the rationale, a lot of mature individuals, from the middle aged to the aged, are in search of extra protection. Insurers are responding with new merchandise which can be designed for older clients. Actually, many older folks can discover rates which might be fairly affordable, especially if they are still in cheap health. But older folks, even with health issues, can nonetheless find coverage. After all, a normal insurance coverage coverage will price more for a sixty 12 months old than it will for a thirty year outdated, all different things being equal, but older folks can have many things in their favor.

Funeral poems for mother are an effective way to make the funeral more particular and memorable. Typically there is nothing like a funeral poem that may specific your deepest feelings. One thing that naked words can't specific in any respect. Families with modest means could fear about paying for a funeral. In the US, this may price eight to ten thousand dollars or more. There are various senior life or burial life policies for that reason.

When you've got a disqualifying mental sickness, group life insurance coverage could also be a viable option. Group insurance coverage is negotiated with an insurance coverage company by a big group, resembling an employer, trade union or pastime membership. In lots of group insurance coverage contracts, the insurance coverage firm must cowl all interested members of the group, no matter their medical historical past. These insurance policies are often comparatively small, typically enough to cover funeral expenses.

An alternative choice is to purchase a separate policy on your kids. The best way to seek out an affordable policy is to go to an insurance coverage comparability web site. On such a website you possibly can fill out a easy on-line kind and you'll then obtain price quotes from a number of A-rated insurance companies. You'll evaluate these quotes at your leisure and choose the most reasonably priced policy with the perfect protection.

As a lot as reading poems at your mother's funeral could be a great concept, it is equally necessary that you just select the perfect poem that basically shines on the funeral. I highly recommend you to read this article to study extra about funeral insurance for seniors and fogeys.

Over 50 life insurance coverage within the UK is a strongly rising market with many suppliers operating intensive advertising packages. As such, there are numerous nice deals to be found, as the competition is excessive. Some providers additionally offer glorious incentives who embody a high payout journey insurance coverage coverage the place you could be paid three times the usual lump sum if a travel accident leads to your dying. Ensure to match the benefits of each policy and you will definitely find a scheme appropriate for you.

Add fresh, free web content material to your site such as newest articles, web instruments, and quotes with a single piece of code! The good news is, you do not have to write down the funeral poem your self. You can simply select one of the prepared-made, lovely funeral poems for mother obtainable on-line. The next step is cemetery where it's important to discover grave house and digging it. You possibly can anticipate to pay round $2k-$2.5 for this objective. There could be few more servicing fees which is not that massive.

Collect any paperwork the insurance coverage firm requires. It will usually embrace personal identification for you and a few form of proof of loss of life. In some instances, this may mean your guardian's dying certificates. In others, the corporate can have a special type. Some firms require each.

Ask for those who can add your grandchild to your current medical insurance coverage and beneath what situations or phrases the service will likely be accessible. It's possible you'll be requested to visit a local office of your insurance coverage provider to fill out the mandatory forms.

On the lookout for beautiful funeral readings and poems to make the one you love's funeral extra particular and memorable? Then you will discover many wonderful funeral readings here to use for free. Use your Co-op Membership card to earn 5% for you or £225 (whichever is larger) and 1% in your group, once you buy a Co-op Funeral Plan. You can find simplified or assured situation life insurance insurance policies. That implies that most seniors, in reasonable well being, can qualify for a final expense plan.

Plan the ceremony utilizing favorite Bible verses or different significant readings. Discuss along with your non secular leader your preferences for the service if you're holding the service in a church. Funeral administrators can assist design a secular service and supply assistance with audiovisual shows and other details.

Pay the payment for a funeral house and funeral director to rearrange for transport of your loved one, coordinate the viewing and/or funeral and file all the necessary burial permits required in your area. Basic fees vary about $1,500 as of 2010.

Don't you suppose funeral plan is a big expense at this time? If you didn't have any concept but, let me tell you that a normal funeral can value as much as $9,000 in the USA. It may vary a bit relying on the situation and provider in your space. However the difference wouldn't be significance enough to count. A funeral plan should embrace gravestone, burial plot, embalming, hearse, casket, flower and many others. The fee massively depends upon how many kinfolk you invite for the event. You may want to take the accountability of their transportation as properly. Thus the final word price goes to be quite high and thus it's wiser to have a pre-plan for that. Burial insurance coverage is turning into extremely popular today. You'll be able to contact insurance house who provides reasonably priced prepaid package for funeral occasion.

To purchase a burial insurance coverage you needn't go to the workplace as right this moment it's very easy to get all the information by internet. You additionally should learn online evaluations and proposals to get a clear thought on the provider you are prepared to buy the policy from. This is a crucial step as should you come up choosing mistaken provider; you're more likely to lose cash in future. They may not approve your claims and thus it would create whole lot of problems for the beneficiary to get demise benefits.

[dailynewswebsite]

How discrimination against women is built into most job support schemes – Britain’s included

The sectors hardest hit by coronavirus are predominantly staffed by girls Michele Ursi / Shutterstock.com

Chancellor Rishi Sunak gained plaudits for the UK authorities’s furlough scheme, which helped stave off mass unemployment when huge swathes of the UK financial system went into lockdown. However as the tip of that initiative attracts close to and a brand new job assist scheme takes its place, little has been performed to keep away from the gender discriminatory pitfalls which are regularly present in job safety schemes. The result’s that feminine staff once more look set to be disproportionately excluded from receiving satisfactory assist.

Just like the furlough scheme, the brand new scheme shall be significantly utilized in hard-hit retail and hospitality sectors. These are principally staffed by girls. Ladies are additionally over-represented among the many most susceptible staff inside these sectors. They’re employed on a short lived foundation – together with casually, on fixed-term contracts or by way of an company – at a better price than male staff.

This gendered segregation of contract varieties throughout the hardest-hit elements of the financial system is essential after we consider the supposed goal of the job assist scheme – to assist individuals preserve their jobs, so long as these jobs are “viable”.

Although the scheme is accessible to a variety of staff, together with these on non-permanent contracts, employers have discretion over who to placed on the scheme and who to let go now and as soon as the scheme ends. Analysis into job safety schemes after the 2008 monetary disaster exhibits that whereas employment charges amongst everlasting, full-time staff tended to return to pre-crisis ranges, short-term and zero-hours staff had been sometimes not retained as soon as the scheme wound down. Although many staff on non-standard contracts (comparable to zero hours) had been furloughed as of Might, short-term staff had been extra prone to have merely misplaced their jobs.

Proportion of staff in non-permanent contracts, cut up by gender, in sectors closely affected y coronavirus (retail, lodges and eating places, tradition and recreation), Jan-Mar 2020. Labour Drive Survey, Jan-Mar 2020, CC BY-ND

Classes from Germany?

Even Germany’s “kurzarbeit” scheme, which is held up because the archetypal instance of an efficient job safety scheme, has bias towards non-standard jobs baked into it that disproportionately impacts girls. It is because individuals in part-time, principally service-sector jobs referred to as “mini jobs” should not eligible.

Poorly paid and exempt from social safety, these jobs type a significant class of employment for ladies, particularly moms. So their exclusion from revenue safety exacerbates current gender inequalities.

An extra concern in Germany is that commerce unions have been profitable in rising the compensation stage for a lot of staff. In native authorities, metalworking and the chemical business, for instance, staff get 90% of their regular wages and above. However fewer female-dominated, low-wage industries are coated by collective agreements, producing one other supply of inequality.

Whereas the UK doesn’t have mini-jobs and unions are weaker, this kind of bias is prone to creep into the implementation of its jobs scheme. Employers are prone to view non-standard and particularly short-term staff – lots of them girls – as extra disposable. And provided that the brand new job assist scheme makes it cheaper for employers to make use of one particular person full-time relatively than two individuals part-time, these choices are coming quickly.

On prime of this, 69% of low-wage staff within the UK are girls, and the vast majority of staff paid lower than the nationwide minimal wage are girls.

Below the brand new job assist scheme and the furlough scheme, staff should not entitled to the minimal wage. But low-paid staff had been extra prone to have been furloughed on 80% of their pay than greater paid staff. This may increasingly result in dangerously low ranges of revenue for already low-paid girls.

Nations comparable to Norway are coping with this by changing a better proportion of revenue for decrease paid staff. In the meantime schemes in Estonia, France, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Poland, Portugal and Slovenia set the minimal wage because the decrease restrict for alternative revenue.

Estimates of UK jobs paid beneath the minimal wage by intercourse of job holder and whether or not job is full-time or part-time, 2019. ONS, CC BY-ND

Carer penalty

The scenario is even worse for individuals who look after others. There may be already proof that the furlough scheme has been utilized in a discriminatory manner towards girls with caring duties. This may increasingly nicely proceed underneath the brand new job scheme. For instance, moms are way more seemingly than different teams to have misplaced their job completely, as a substitute of being positioned on furlough or provided fewer or versatile hours.

A invoice at present being debated in parliament seeks to deal with being pregnant and maternity discrimination – already rife earlier than the present disaster – prohibiting redundancy for six months after being pregnant or maternity go away ends. Whereas employers have discretion over who to maintain on underneath the brand new job scheme, and whereas this invoice continues to be underneath debate, they could unfairly take caring duties and maternity into consideration.

Sadly, the truth that these assist schemes disproportionately assist males comes as no shock. Analysis has lengthy proven how social insurance policies – comparable to guaranteeing equitable entry to the minimal wage – can mitigate the disproportionate financial dangers confronted by girls, however typically fail to take action.

Underlying the design and implementation of those schemes is maybe a notion that ladies’s employment is an optionally available additional. This might not be extra mistaken given the reliance of many households on twin incomes, the rise of feminine breadwinners , single guardian households and single girls’s want for revenue.

Britain has already misplaced a lot on account of the COVID-19 disaster. With a scarcity of consideration to baked-in gender discrimination in new social and financial safety plans, it dangers shedding progress on gender equality too.

Rose Cook dinner receives funding from the Financial and Social Analysis Council.

from Growth News https://growthnews.in/how-discrimination-against-women-is-built-into-most-job-support-schemes-britains-included/ via https://growthnews.in