ppl who have sound on for phone notifications…..how do you live like that?? my phone hasnt made a sound since i got it. i will see my notifications when i see them.
this might be because I’m a family law lawyer and also an old crone who remembers when marriage equality wasn’t a thing (as in, marriage equality only became nation-wide two months before I went to law school), but I have Strong Feelings about the right to marry and all the legal benefits that come with it
like I’m all for living in sin until someone says they don’t want to get married because it’s ~too permanent~ and in the same breath start talking about having kids or buying a house with their significant other. then I turn into a 90-year-old passive-aggressive church grandma who keeps pointedly asking when the wedding is. “yes, a divorce is very sad and stressful, but so is BEING HOMELESS BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT ENTITLED TO EQUITABLE DISTRIBUTION OF MARITAL PROPERTY, CAROLINE!”
“oh, he thinks a piece of paper shouldn’t define your relationship? ASK HIM HOW HE FEELS ABOUT BEING ON YOUR BABY’S BIRTH CERTIFICATE, PATRICIA.”
“oh, sure, it’s all fun and games until your estranged parents are making medical decisions for you and inheriting all your property, TIMOTHY.”
so, I’ve gotten this question and similar ones before, and I want to use it to go into what marriage actually is.
so, in law, there are a couple of legal assumptions made when someone is a close family member, like a parent. the assumptions are that this person knows you well enough to make decisions on your behalf in an emergency, supports or is supported by you financially, and, most importantly, that they are emotionally significant to you in a way that makes them different from a total stranger or a good friend. immigration law, for example, prioritizes families over people immigrating for jobs alone, because not getting a job doesn’t have the same emotional weight as never seeing your mom again.
the difference is that you don’t get to choose your family (outside of adoption and, uh, legally that’s not a bilateral decision). you do get to choose your spouse. the fact that you chose them is why they get priority for things like inheritance and immigration, even over your parents or your siblings or your grandma.
how does the government know that this particular person is someone you want to have as part of your family? you fill out a form and you tell them.
what happens if you don’t want them in your family anymore, and don’t want those assumptions made about them? you fill out a different form and you tell the government that.
the thing I think that’s hard for people to wrap their heads around – whether you’re a starry-eyed romantic or a pragmatic bitch like me – is that marriage isn’t an announcement of how much you love someone. that’s what a facebook status update is for. you do not need to be in love, or sexually/romantically monogamous, or be religious, or any of the other things people associate with marriage, in order to bemarried.
it’s a legal decision. it is choosing to get certain benefits (like taxes, because it’s assumed you’re financially supporting each other) in exchange for certain responsibilities (because it’s assumed you’re supporting each other, it stops mattering exactly who bought what after you got married, so divorce splits the whole pool of stuff even if one person bought like 75% of it).
you don’t get the one without the other, and you don’t get either if you don’t affirmatively say that’s what you want to have happen. it doesn’t happen automatically, or in every romantic relationship no matter how serious, because the choice is the point.
and, to be clear: if you do not want, or do not care about, the legal rights and responsibilities of being married, you should not get married. it’s a fucking legal contract that has serious legal implications! it’s not something you should be doing for funsies!
tl;dr: if you want all the shit that comes with a marriage, good and bad, you need to tell the government that’s what you want. if you don’t want it, then you don’t need to do it, but you need to also be aware of what you’re potentially losing (in exchange for what you’re keeping). that should be an informed decision, not one you make for emotional reasons like “I just want everyone to know I’m only having sex with this person forever” or “our love is so pure it transcends legal boundaries.”
Is there any option other than marriage for telling the government you want this person to be part of your family? Like, can you draw up some kind of homebrew contract?
Short answer: No. If there was, queer people would have done it already.
Long answer: That’s a little like asking “can you become a citizen via contract rather than going through the immigration and naturalization process?” Marriage is a legal status: you either are or you aren’t. Can you cobble together very specific stuff, like advanced healthcare directives and wills and whatnot? Yes, absolutely. But anything that requires you to be legally married as a status cannot be contracted away: you can’t file taxes jointly or sponsor someone for a green card or get someone’s Social Security benefits if they die if you’re not married to that person.
Now, to be clear: some things that often require marriage do not always require marriage. For example, usually you need to be married to have someone unrelated to you be on your health insurance, but my job’s specific health insurance plan allows coverage for domestic partners, which they define as a single person who has cohabitated with you for six months or more and is in a committed relationship with you. So even though my fiancé and I are not married yet, he’s been on my health insurance for the past year and a half, because we hit the six month mark of living together right around when I had to re-enroll in my health insurance for the year.
But if we’d gotten married sooner, he’d have been able to get on my health insurance right away (getting married is a qualifying event that lets someone get on a health insurance plan outside of the enrollment period), but since he’s just a cohabitating partner, we had to wait six months for him to get on my insurance. And if he’d moved in with me a month later, we’d have to wait a whole year before he could enroll with me on my health insurance. Even though it’s allowed, it still doesn’t have the same standing as a marriage.
I guess technically adult adoption is an option, in that it is what queer people did for a while in lieu of marriage, but it’s a bad idea for a lot of reasons (not least of which being that you can divorce a spouse but you can’t undo an adoption).
this, THIS is why QPR make me so fucking nervous. i’m not trying to shit on your beautiful poly aroace love affair, i’m asking you HOW WILL THIS RELATIONSHIP HOLD UP IN COURT. cause, news flash: it won’t.
if you have shared bank accounts and a house and a kid with someone who isn’t married to you, they can wipe you out – legally speaking – and you have no recourse. none. you will never see your kid again, unless you’re lucky and contributed half their DNA.
if they have a car accident and end up in hospital, you don’t have a legal right to see them. if they’re in a coma, their parents can pull the plug and adopt that child and you can do nothing.
queers wanted marriage equality not to Be Like Teh Hets, but because it is the most legal protection you can ever have against that bad stuff that comes (and it comes for everyone).
if you don’t have that stuff, if you’re relying on your partners to do the right thing forever and be perfect people and never have a business collapse or a messy family situation or an accident or even to get sick … you’re being really, reallynaïve.
Pre-legal-gay-marriage, I saw this happen. I was on a parenting board and one day a woman we’d posted with for years told us her partner and one of their children had died in a car accident. And because she wasn’t the biological parent of the surviving child – the child she’d been a parent to since conception – her ex’s parents took custody and took the child away and kept her from seeing that child. Ever.
Because here’s the thing: children are not property. Specifically, in estate law, children are not, and cannot be “Real Property.” You cannot bequeath them like furniture, books, and bank accounts.
“But my will states who I want as guardian!” You say.
Welp. That statement is, in law, only a (strong) suggestion. A judge still still have to rule on guardianship of your minor child, and you cannot, from the grave, dictate where they end up.
Again:Children are not real property. If you are not their biological or legal parent, the state can remove them from your custody and hand them to someone more closely related, or not related at all but merely less gay, less queer, less “inappropriate” by your state’s legal standards.
The woman I knew back then was on good term with her not-quite-in-laws. Or thought she was. Because as soon as her partner died, their tune changed 100%, they found anti-gay legal support, and they took that woman’s child from her. Forever.
That’s not my only “my outlaws are great and fine with us and its okay we’re not legally married” story, but it’s probably the most heartbreaking. Though the image of a man who has just lost his partner of 25 years watching his ex-outlaws take ½ of his chairs, ½ of his pillows, ½ of his sheets, ½ of his napkins, ½ of his towels, ½ of his dishes, ½ of his books….. is pretty fucking close. After they made him sit behind “the family” at his partner’s funeral.
My mother was a lifelong Republican, a very conservative Catholic. The thing that pushed her over on legalizing gay marriage was stories about people being in the hospital and their partner of 20 years not being allowed to see them, because they weren’t legally married. She thought that was wrong and unfair.
Also a reminder “get married” does not mean “have a wedding.” You can file the paperwork and get married in a courthouse or office. There doesn’t even need to be a ceremony, you just have to sign some papers. (Bonus: you get access to the legal privileges of marriage as well as the protections, AND you get to stick it to the billion dollar “wedding industry” that preys on us all.)
What had begun as a frantic free-for-all in the great hall of the Ducal Palace had quickly blown up into a full-fledged riot that now spanned the breadth of Defiance Bay. At first, Axa hadn’t been able to tell if the sky had been darkened by smoke or by the passage of time, but when she finally managed to gather herself and make her way outside, she discovered that it was both. Buildings smoldered and filled the air with black, acrid clouds, mingling with the stench of spilled blood and the cries of kith. She couldn’t help but think of all the good she’d done in this city, the people she’d helped. Kaenra and Purnisc, Nonton and Ingroed. Niah, Dalton, Nedyn, Osric. Were they all dead now?
Had it all been for nothing?
“Thaos,” Axa croaked, the stench of smoke stinging her throat. “Where is he?”
“Ran off,” Edér spat ruefully. “Said he had ‘pressing business’ to attend to. Godsdamned coward.”
“Hey now, he probably just had the sudden urge to defecate,” Hiravias snarked. “You know how elders can be.” He grinned nervously at Axa, and as she turned to admonish him, she was stopped short by a sudden realization.
Elders– pressing business–
“Lady Webb,” she gasped, and although she was still badly disoriented, she took off running toward Brackenbury.
To get from First Fires to the south end of Brackenbury shouldn’t have taken long, but the ongoing mayhem in the city had transformed the path linking the two locales into a sort of gruesome obstacle course. More than once was Axa forced to dodge a flaming chunk of rubble or a terrified refugee, and when she happened across a mob affixing an animancer’s severed head to a pike, it took everything she had to suppress her urge to scream her Chanter’s lightning at the perpetrators, to draw her blades and dispense justice. She would have been more than justified in doing so, she knew, but the truth was that this riot was no longer a situation that any kith could hope to bring to heel, much less one little orlan and her handful of companions. It was a force of nature now, a wildfire that could only be stopped by allowing it to burn itself out. It would be futile to try to do anything now but to get to Hadret House, to find Lady Webb, and time was of the essence. So she kept running.
The sanitarium was ablaze. She’d figured it would be, but it dismayed her all the same to see it: the smoke pouring from the ruined roof, bodies dangling from the shattered windows, blood and viscera dribbling down the brick facade. She wondered briefly about the fates of the animancers working inside when the angry mob reached them, of Ethelmoer forced to watch helplessly as his life’s work was rent asunder and his colleagues were slaughtered in front of him, of the patients locked in the basement and awaiting salvation just like the Eothasian priests back in Gilded Vale– but it was all too much to take, and so she tried not to think about it as she dashed past the grisly sight. They were beyond saving now, unfortunate though it was, and there would be time to mourn later.
Hadret House was relatively unscathed by comparison, although it looked as though a bîaŵac had blown through the interior. Scattered papers blanketed the floors like fresh snowfall, books and scrolls sprawled from overturned tables, shattered ink pots ruined imported rugs. And not a soul remained inside. Except–
Axa relaxed as best she could, let her Watcher senses drift to the fore, and although she could perceive some vague impressions of essence left behind by the living all over the building, she couldn’t make out any intact souls hiding behind any curtains or bookshelves, no one tucked away under a heavy desk or inside a chest. But she could feel an insistent tug coming from above her, a familiar presence pulsing and burning in the In-Between like a lit beacon, and her heart sank as she realized exactly what it was– who it was.
“No one here?” Sagani peered around cautiously, muscles tensed, ready for anything. “Are we too late?”
“No, she’s still here,” Axa muttered, already staggering toward the stairs. “Up here. But…” She trailed off into silence as she ascended, all her previous urgency gone. There was no need to rush anymore.
After all, Eydis Webb was dead.
It hadn’t happened very long ago. Although the blood that had pooled in the cavity of her ribcage was already mostly dry, thick and sticky like the spilled liquor from her shattered glass on the floor beside the bed, Axa could still tell that the woman’s death had been relatively recent from the way her soul still clung close to her body, flaring up when the Watcher approached, almost as though the old Cipher had been waiting for her. While her companions looked on, silent with shock and sorrow, Axa closed her eyes, braced herself, reached out–
–It was all quiet now. In here, anyway. Outside, the madness of the riot raged and squalled, but in here, in her home at Hadret House, it was calm and quiet and empty, the perfect mood for enjoying a little fine, well-aged brandy. She hoped Axa would forgive her for starting without her.
She’d sent her people away at the start of it all, to see to the safety of their homes and families. A few stubborn types had tried to insist on staying, to defend her– as though she needed their assistance– but they were easy enough to “convince” otherwise, and it was child’s play for an accomplished Cipher like herself to cast a little glamor over her base of operations, make its presence simply slide off of the minds of those who might wish her harm. She hadn’t gotten this far, grown this old, by being some wilting waif who couldn’t take care of herself.
Although, she supposed, that hardly mattered now.
She recognized him long before she saw him. Recognized his scent, the cadence of his footsteps, all those familiar pathways he’d worn into her brain lighting up once more, like a river once again flowing through an ancient valley after a long, long drought. Impossibly, he looked exactly the same as he always had. It was strangely comforting.
“There you are,” she murmured. “I was beginning to wonder.”
“Forgive me for tarrying so long,” he replied gently. He was being sincere, at least insofar as she could tell. Typical.
She sighed and turned toward the window, the warm glow of the fires in the streets below illuminating her wizened face. “I was a fool to think I could rein these people in. To tame them with my ever-so-subtle ministrations. Wasn’t I?”
“No need to be so harsh with yourself,” he assured her. “Practice is never as easy as theory. And you came closer than most, anyway.”
“Hnh. A fine epitaph,” she muttered, swirling her brandy in her glass. She took another sip, let it lay bitter on her tongue.
He gave her the very slightest hint of a smile. “No worse than most, my dear.”
She closed her eyes, relishing the moment– fine brandy, warm bed, a genuine compliment from the only man she’d ever truly loved. A fine epitaph indeed.
And suddenly, so suddenly she took herself by surprise, she hurled her mind against his, over and over and over, attacking with every last mote of energy in her body. Veins in her temple throbbed, her heart pounded against her frail ribs, and still he resisted effortlessly, just as he always had. Even here, at the end of all things, even after her unnaturally long lifetime spent working and preparing and honing her craft, even now she couldn't–
But she could. And for an instant, she did. One brick from one wall in the vast, impenetrable fortress of his mind was finally wiggled loose, and she desperately grasped at the fraction of a thought that escaped.
“Twin Elms," she gasped, dizzy from exertion and the thrill of victory. ”…What’s in Twin Elms?“
"Pulled that from my mind, did you?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, corner of his mouth twitching. “I have to admit, I’m impressed.”
“Well.” She settled back against her pillows again, controlling her breathing even as exhaustion caught up with her. “I’ve had plenty of time to practice.”
He crossed the room to her credenza, examining her selection of spirits. “I can tell you have." At last his gaze fell on the brandy, and he smiled almost wistfully as he lifted it to his nose, his free hand reaching for a glass.
She wanted to scowl at his presumptuousness, but found she couldn’t quite suppress a bemused grin instead, like a mother might have for a particularly bold child. "I was saving that for someone, actually.”
To his credit, he immediately drew back. “Were you? Pardon me." He reluctantly set the bottle back down, shaking his head. "Pity. It’s a fine vintage. I doubt she could truly appreciate it the way we’re able to.”
“Don’t underestimate her.” It was not meant as a caution, but as a threat.
“I have no intention of doing so." Her feather mattress sagged beneath his weight as he sat himself down on the edge of her bed, turning slightly to face her. His eyes looked to be full to the brim with sorrow, but she could see beneath the facade, down to the cold, hard truth inside him. "Eydis. You always knew that this is how it was going to be. How it has to be.”
The knife was in his hand. It was already smeared with the blood of her countrymen.
“Is that so?” She tilted her head up at him, narrowing her eyes defiantly. “Prove it, then.”
She didn’t even really feel the knife slip in. It was more of a focused pressure against her midsection, only slightly more insistent than his hand pressing gently against her breastbone, pinning her to the pillows. The sensation brought to her mind the image of a paper lantern, old and stiff and delicate, with a paring knife driven between two of its wire ribs.
Taking that analogy to its logical conclusion, she supposed it could only be her light that was leaking out of her now, her fire, her warmth. How fitting.
The glass of brandy, still half full, rolled from her insensate fingers, tumbled to the floor below, and she could very dimly hear it shatter as her lifeforce began to ebb. She reached out to him desperately, clasping his knife hand in between her own, and gathering the very last of her quickly fading energy, she dove into his mind one last time. One last question that was too big to be just a question, it was a part of her, a state of being, and this would be her very last chance–
And he let her. For once, he left his mind utterly unguarded, and she penetrated his thoughts and memories as easily as his dagger had penetrated her flesh. And there before her, waiting patiently for her to find, was the answer to the only question that had ever truly mattered to her. And it changed everything.
“I knew it,” she whispered, and she looked one last time into Thaos ix Arkannon’s eyes as death finally claimed her.
Axa snapped back to her senses, her face wet with tears, Thaos’ merciless gaze burned into her mind. Webb’s soul was gone, spirited away on the winds of the In-Between, and Axa stood before all that now remained of Defiance Bay’s most powerful Cipher. She turned to her companions.
“He’s gone. To Twin Elms,” she rasped, drawing the back of her hand across her face.
“The Holy Cradle,” Hiravias murmured reverently. “The City of the Builders. Oh, that can’t be good.”
“Then we follow,” Pallegina asserted. “Before we lose him again.”
“He’ll have a damned hard time gettin’ there, I’d wager,” Edér muttered. “Wet season’s still on. Stormwall Gorge damn near down to Elmshore’ll be flooded for another month at least.”
Aloth’s eyes darted around nervously. “There’s no other way into Eir Glanfath? None at all?”
“Not unless we all suddenly and serendipitously sprout wings, no,” Hiravias replied. “And before you ask: yes, I can turn into a few different birds, but no, none big enough to carry kith.”
“What are we to do, then?” Kana cried. “We can’t simply allow him to get away with–”
He was interrupted by a loud crash from downstairs, the tinkling of broken glass followed closely by shouting from the street. It seemed that now that Webb was no longer around to maintain her protective illusion over Hadret House, the rioters and looters had taken notice.
“What we need to do,” Sagani barked, “is get the Hel out of this city. I, for one, think it’d be wisest to retreat to Caed Nua for now. We can figure out the rest later. Right, Watcher?” The little huntress laid a comforting hand on the other woman’s shoulder, but Axa only turned, dazed, and trudged slowly away from her friends toward the back of the room.
The bottle of brandy still stood on the credenza.
“Eydis. You're– I hope to include you among my friends, too, someday. When this is all over.”
In one quick motion, Axa plucked the brandy from the polished wooden counter and tucked it into her satchel. He won’t get away with this, Eydis. My friend. I’ll stop him, I swear it. And then… I’ll toast to you over his corpse. She turned back to her companions, fists trembling at her sides.
“There’s nothing else we can do here,” she murmured. “Let’s go home.”
That ADHD panic when your therapist says that she wants to try to cut down on your hyper focus… You know, the thing that’s the only reason and way you ever get anything done…
