#Insurance policy definition

[scriptermubarak]

What is an insurance policy? Explanation of items to be included, necessary situations, and precautions for handling

What is an insurance policy? Explanation of items to be included, necessary situations, and precautions for handling What is an insurance policy? An insurance policy is a legally binding contract between an individual (or entity) and an insurance company. It outlines the terms and conditions of the insurance coverage provided by the company in exchange for the payment of premiums. Key elements…

[olessan]

Re: TLovM episodes 3x07-3x09

[keshimasu]

Yang got me thinking about Sho never having had a backup plan despite the doubt of him doing much with his life which is why he panicked so much when he first got diagnosed at 17 and thought his career was over. How he was too stubborn and proud in a way to tell his friends about it, losing touch with them after graduating because he had nowhere to live and then was deep undercover. He’s terrified of being vulnerable or being perceived as weak because it would be utilized against him in a heartbeat.

[asjinsurance]

The Ultimate Insurance Guide to Understanding Insurance Jargons: Demystifying Policy Terms

Insurance Jargons can sometimes feel like navigating a maze of unfamiliar terms and complex terms and words. From premiums to deductibles, policyholders are often faced with a barrage of terminology that can be confusing and overwhelming. However, understanding these terms is essential for making informed decisions about your insurance coverage.  In this comprehensive guide, we’ll break down the…

[violetflowerswrites]

Sweetheart

Pairing: Logan Howlett X Female Mutant Reader

Era: X Men 1 / Trilogy

Summary: Logan and the resident therapist for the mutant school grow closer due to Logan’s resistance to her emotional manipulation powers. A friends with benefits situation naturally leads to falling for each other.

Word Count: 6.5k

Disclaimers: smoking, mentions of cheating, mentions of mental health issues (PTSD, trauma, self-harm/suicide), swearing, explicit sexual content. Consensual kissing, touching, oral sex, and p in v sex. Logan has a bit of a pain kink. 18+ mature only. Minors DNI.

A/N: I recently re-watched X1 because Logan has been on my mind since the Deadpool and Wolverine movie this past summer. And holy hell Hugh Jackman is SO cute and SO sexy and SO flirty in X1 that I couldn’t help but write this absolutely depraved, incredibly smutty (and soft!) fic. Seriously, it just kept getting longer and longer because of all the smut scenes. Enjoy!

…

The first thing you noticed was the hairy forearm laid heavily on your stomach. The heft of it acted as a natural weighted blanket, lulling you into that peaceful haze between wake and sleep.

But the laughter and squeals of kids playing in the freshly fallen snow outside your window invaded your mind with happy energy.

Excitement and adrenaline.

Winter morning sunshine and the holiday spirit.

Too bad you still hadn’t quite mastered how to dial the volume down of the outside world so you could sleep in.

With a contented sigh, you turned and gazed at the weather-tanned face of Logan, aka The Wolverine.

He was scruffy, rough around the edges, and altogether too much of a flirt to be boyfriend material.

But that was exactly how you liked your men.

Emotionally unavailable?

Check.

Morally ambiguous backstory?

Check.

Utterly ravishing in bed?

Check.

Logan and yourself definitely had a friends with benefits situation going on. Not that anyone would have bothered to say anything. Although you hoped Professor X wasn’t spending his free time dipping into the confines of your mind.

You see, you were the in-house therapist. You knew everyone’s secrets so they didn’t dare share yours. It was the best insurance policy in a school full of mutants you could have gotten.

Ever since you were young, you had always been “in-tune” with others’ emotions. Uncannily so.

Somehow you didn’t question this, but the obvious career of choice was to become a therapist.

It wasn’t until your college boyfriend cheated on you and you felt so overcome with rage that you told him to drive himself off a cliff.

And he did.

But not really.

He was so upset that you caught him in bed with another woman, that he stopped paying attention to the road on the way home and got into a little fender bender. A trip to the ER and a few bruises and a cracked rib later, it was more than enough to scare you into thinking that perhaps your influence was more than just a high EQ.

So you tested your powers. First, getting your roommate to stop stealing your food from the fridge. Then, helping your sister reconcile with your mom over Thanksgiving dinner. After that, soothing crying babies in seconds. Calming down PTSD patients in relapse episodes. Catching students in mental health crises before they did something they could never take back.

Before you knew it, you were making six figures post-grad at a fancy private clinic for celebrities in Hollywood whose biggest problems were having way too much money and convincing themselves that they had every disorder in the DSM-5.

Then, Professor X found you. And hired you on the spot to be the school counselor / therapist / shrink / lady-who-you-talk-to-lying-on- the-couch, at his school for mutants.

Sorry—at the “Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters” as it officially said on your business card.

…

The peaceful inhales and exhales of the human heating pad next to you put you in a nostalgic mood. So you burrowed down deeper into the covers and remembered handing that exact business card to the burliest man you’d ever seen in your little office.

That was the first thing you noticed when Logan walked in through the mahogany wooden door almost half a year ago now. How he filled up the door frame with not just height, but pure mass of muscle.

Jesus Christ, is this man on steroids? You remembered thinking.

The second thing you noticed was the hair. Thick and dark and messy, but pointed and shaped exactly like ears.

The third thing was his hands. Almost always in fists, as if he was ready to fight in a moment’s notice.

Which he probably was.

Ah. You had thought to yourself then.

This is why they call him The Wolverine.

“Good morning!” You greeted him warmly, trying to exude as much welcoming energy as you could.

It was met with a brick wall and a single grunt of acknowledgment.

Not fazed in the least, you gestured to a plush deep espresso-colored leather sofa that matched the soothing wood tones of the room.

“You’re not gonna ask me to lie down on that, are ya?” Logan gruffed out.

”Totally up to you.” You tried to disarm him with a smile, which he resolutely ignored. So, you handed him your business card and he begrudgingly took it, though he barely glanced at it and tossed it on top of the cushions.

Then, Logan pulled out a lighter and a cigarette from his leather jacket and took a long drag.

“Mind if I smoke?” Logan asked afterwards, with an arched brow.

Clearly he was trying to get a rise out of you, so you ignored the blatant lack of manners and simply shook your head and tried to make a joke.

“Not if you’re willing to share.” You half laughed, half coughed.

“I doubt a pretty lil thing like you smokes Malboro reds, much less a shrink.” Logan exhaled another thick column of smoke.

“You don’t know where my mouth has been.”

The words slipped out of your smiling lips before you could catch them, and you mentally slapped yourself for letting your intrusive thoughts come out.

Logan’s jaw dropped open, before he quickly shut it and kept a firm grip on his cigarette before it fell and burned a hole into Professor X’s very expensive carpet.

You felt a shift in the room. Logan’s energy was defensive, reluctant, and suspicious when he walked in.

Now, it was undoubtedly aroused.

To you.

Goddammit.

“I apologize. That wasn’t very professional of me. I’m going to be straight with you because I know that Professor X requested that you to come here. He specifically asked me to help you recover some memories, possibly work through some PTSD and figure out who…” you hesitated, searching for a polite way to phrase what you wanted to say next.

“Fucked me up with their experiments?” Logan laughed bitterly. “No need to sugar coat it, sweetheart.”

“Ahem. Yes. But now I’ve clearly given you mixed signals—“

“Mixed signals?” Logan grinned impishly. “I’m just picking up what you’re putting out.” He leaned back into the sofa.

“Well, that’s not exactly it. You see, I have the ability to read emotions.” You explained, “and influence the emotions of others.”

“Really?” Logan looked intrigued, but not quite convinced. “Tell me what I’m feeling right now.”

”You came in unwilling and totally against seeing a therapist.” You took a breath. “And now you’re curious, and a little attracted to me right now.”

“Not just a little, Doc.” He took another drag of cigarette.

“I’m sure you tell that to all the girls.” You waved away his comment, trying to not let him make you blush.

“Nah.” Logan exhaled. “Tell me I’m lying.”

“Well, I can’t do that. But I can change how you feel.” You offered.

“Try me.” He sat up in his seat, leaning forward in a challenge. “Make me not feel attracted to you.”

You furrowed your brow in concentration. Emotions were a finicky thing to manipulate, but your powers helped you “see” the feeling, almost like an aura or energy around the person.

Logan’s right now was pulsing, wafting off his body towards you, as his locked eyes with yours.

So you tried, pushing it back. Changing its shape, its color.

Its taste in your mouth.

But it stayed the same.

Sweet, sultry, and utterly addicting.

“What the hell?” You muttered. Your professionalism fell away as you were caught by surprise yet again by this man.

“What?” Logan murmured.

“It’s not…I can’t…” you trailed off, perplexed.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Logan teased, “powers don’t work on me?”

“Holy shit.” You whispered to yourself. “Holy shit.” You emphasized the expletive in shock.

Logan’s face fell when he realized you weren’t messing with him. Your powers actually didn’t work on him.

“Stay right there. Don’t you dare leave!” You thrusted a finger in his face and practically ran out the door, your eyes shining in excitement.

And you left a very confused Wolverine in his seat.

It turned out, The Wolverine had very strong resistance to psychic-type powers. Your powers were much weaker than Professor X, or even Dr. Jean Grey’s, so it was easy for him to subconsciously block them off. When you were first hired, you worked with Professor X and Jean a lot, trying to improve your manipulation abilities, but they could always tell when you were trying to change their emotions. Others like…say…Cyclops for example? Not so much.

You chuckled aloud at the juvenile pranks you pulled with Jean, like making Cyclops feel so confident he sober-karaoked on a night out, and you and Jean recorded his performance, clutching your sides with laughter.

He was actually an excellent singer, but he never let the two of you hear another note again. After all, your powers changed emotions, but not memories.

…

Logan shifted on the mattress, feeling the vibrations of your quiet laughter, and he let out a sleepy groan. You held your breath until he settled back into stillness, not meaning to wake him just yet.

Your mind wandered again to another memory.

“You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles, sweetheart.” A rough voice interrupted your concentration and smoothed your forehead with an equally rough thumb.

“Stop calling me sweetheart, it’s distracting!” You playfully shoved Logan in the shoulder and he didn’t budge an inch. The man was built like a tank and had absolutely no qualms attacking you.

With his constant, less-than-subtle flirting that is.

“How’s this for distracting?” Logan grabbed your waist and plopped you right in his lap. Your tight black skirt rode up your thighs in a decidedly unprofessional manner. Logan’s eyes immediately flickered down to your exposed skin, before he brought your hands up to the sides of head.

“Jesus Christ Logan, I’m trying to get better at this.” You huffed out exasperatedly, but you could feel Logan’s emotions charging up, along with your own.

Attraction.

Magnetic, sensual, delicious attraction to each other.

It didn’t take mutant powers to see that the two of you had chemistry. The tension had been building for months since that first day Logan stepped into your office. Now, it was another matter entirely to test if you had sexual chemistry. Which Logan always seemed to push the boundaries on.

Because now, here you were, sitting on the lap of a man who you were supposed to be helping, training with, and trying to practice your powers on.

And your attention was wholly on how thick and hard and firm his rolling thigh muscles felt under the pliant flesh of your ass. You subconsciously sank down further into his lap and Logan closed his eyes in a slow couple of blinks.

“Careful there, sweetheart.” Logan’s voice came out with more gravel than he intended.

“Oh, are we feeling a little distracted?” You whispered in a smirk, your hands practically grasping the thick aura of attraction between the two of you.

The strength of Logan’s emotion was quite literally making you feel drunk with arousal. You could tell Logan noticed the increase in the thrumming of your heartbeat and the speed of your hot breath so close to his face.

“What am I feeling right now?” Logan searched your eyes, his tone filled with barely masked self-control, desire, expectation.

“Tell me.”

You sucked in a shaky breath. “You wanna fuck me.”

“You’re damn right I do.”

Logan’s strong hands tangled in the hair at the back of your head as his lips, teeth, and tongue clashed messily with yours. He didn’t hold back anything, and it felt like he was devouring you whole. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, pushing the leather jacket off and you dug your fingernails into the thick muscle of his biceps.

Logan released your mouth with a growl, and he wasted no time nipping, sucking, and licking all over your neck and collarbone.

Meanwhile, you were transfixed by how the bright pink lines of your scratches were healing on his tanned skin. Curiosity got the better of you and you tried scratching him again, harder this time.

“You trying to hurt me, sweetheart?” Logan grumbled hotly against your ear.

“Mmm maybe?” You giggled, sighing into his lips that were pressing kisses against the side of your face.

“Good.” Logan kissed down your throat, ripping apart the buttons of your work blouse as he went. “I like a bit of pain when I’m fucking.”

You peeled off the top and your lacy black bra, exposing your bare breasts to Logan and he promptly buried his face in your flesh, clearly enjoying himself with your body. Unseemingly moans continuously poured out of both of you and your lust-riddled brain somehow remembered that it was the middle of the workday and you were in your third floor office that anyone could walk by.

“Logan, hold on—I need to…” You gasped out in stuttered breaths.

“Mmph” he grunted back, his teeth having found your perky nipples and he was clearly too focused on that to hear a thing you said.

So you grabbed a thick tuft of his hair and yanked his head back, to which the man actually snarled at being interrupted.

Unafraid, you laughed with delight and kissed him deeply. He tasted of cigarettes and salt and a delicious musk that solely belonged to him.

“I need to close the curtains and lock the door, Logan.” You reprimanded.

Resigned, Logan spread his arms to the back of the couch as he watched you secure the room. Even with your back turned, you could feel that his gaze never wavered from you. The lust poured off of him in waves that pulsed with every breath he took.

It was a deep red, thick like a fog, and it filled your nostrils, your head, your senses entirely. You’ve never felt your powers be so entirely overwhelmed by a single person before.

But Logan was not just anyone.

“I can feel so much from you.” Your voice dropped down into a strained whisper as you stepped back towards him, in between his man-spread legs. You reached a hand behind you to unzip your skirt, and Logan licked his lips once he saw the little black thong you had on underneath. He quickly undid his belt buckle and threw it to the side with a clatter. You slid your hands up his chest slowly, inhaling his scent as you kissed the side of his neck, finding a single vein throbbing with his increased heartbeat.

His white tank fell in a heap on the floor. A second later, dark blue jeans followed suit. Finally, you used your free hand to yank his boxers down and he was completely bare before you at last.

“What do you feel?” Logan could not stop staring at you, at your body, and following every motion of your hands.

You straddled his lap, a knee on either side of his thick thighs. Logan released a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you sat your bare bottom on his lap once again.

Instead of replying, you whispered into his mouth, “Cut off my thong.”

Thrill licked up your spine as you watched a single blade release from his right hand, and Logan oh-so-carefully sliced the string of your panties along your hips. Silently, you both watched as it slid off your heated skin.

You rewarded him with another kiss, running your tongue along the inside of his mouth. He nudged his nose into your cheek, desperate for more.

Meanwhile, you reached down between your bodies and found his painfully erect member. Your lips swallowed the needy growl that escaped the back of Logan’s throat. It made a slow smile spread on your face.

This man wanted you as badly as you wanted him. And neither of you could wait a second longer to devour each other like animals.

“I feel your desire.” You finally answered his question, just as you pulled his thick cock towards your ready core, and you sank down in a single motion.

You both released the most guttural groan at the same time. Logan was a huge man and he had a cock to match. The head pushed against your cervix and you felt positively stretched out trying to accommodate his girth.

Logan filled his hands with the supple flesh of your hips, pulling you up only for you to slide back down, your slickness coating him well.

You braced yourself on his shoulders, raising yourself onto your knees until he was nearly slipping out of you. You glanced down between your two bodies, getting a glimpse of his glorious cock.

“Stop teasing.” Logan panted into your chest, his own already shining with sweat.

You smirked and lowered yourself again, slowing down even more.

Tantalizing The Wolverine with the hot suck of your pussy.

Pressing your soft breasts into the mass of hair on his chest.

Your mouth unrelentingly kissed his scruffy face and wet lips.

“Sweetheart.” Logan’s nickname for you was strained out through clenched teeth.

Laced with warning.

You paid no heed, continuing your teasing movements until, with a roar of impatience, Logan sunk his fingers into the soft fat of your ass and thrusted upwards as hard as he could.

You released his lips with a yelp of surprise and he set a brutal pace. Logan’s length drilled into your hot core, stretching you, spearing you far deeper than you could have ever expected.

“O-oh my god! Logan! S-slow down!” You implored, but Logan had other plans for how he was going to wreck you.

Every thrust was met with a hard slap of skin on skin, and the most you could do was simply dig your nails into his biceps, this time, drawing blood with how hard you were holding on to him.

The pain however, simply goaded him to keep railing you like a rag doll. His cock buried itself to the hilt only to pull out and push back in again, over and over, as if it could never be satisfied.

You had a feeling that Logan had stamina for hours. The Wolverine could just keep going until both of you lost the ability to move. As much as that sounded incredible, the thin trails of blood running down his skin forced you to reconsider how much sex the two of you could handle. At least for the moment.

“Logan, s-seriously. You’re bleeding.” You finally managed to say.

“It’ll heal.” Logan ground out. But, he did slow down until you sat back in his lap, running your fingers along the cuts your fingernails had caused. He wasn’t wrong; each small wound was closing up at a remarkable speed.

“I don’t want to hurt you each time we have sex, Logan.” Even if he liked pain, you didn’t feel comfortable inflicting injury on this beautiful man. Or getting too rough too fast.

“You could never hurt me, sweetheart.” Logan assured you, holding you more gently now, his breath coming in heavy pants. But, he could see the worry on your face, so he kissed the sweaty furrow of your brow.

“Okay. We’ll take it slow. I won’t be so rough, unless you say so.” He murmured against your skin. The both of you were drenched in sweat as if you had run a marathon.

You carefully untangled yourself from Logan’s body and stood up on wobbly legs. You were already feeling a dull ache of soreness between your thighs.

“Hold on-you said ‘each time we have sex’ as in…” Logan questioned.

“Oh we’re not done. You haven’t even made me cum yet.” You grinned at him, walking over to your desk.

You sensually bent over, presenting your slick-shiny slit to Logan.

“I doubt you could stay away from me after you’ve had a taste.” You teased him, the desperation for this man to give you an orgasm making the dirty talk stream out of your lips. Your outside persona as the put-together empath long gone in favor of the filter-less, horny, and needy slut you really were.

Logan immediately crossed over to you in a few strides, holding the weight of his still-erect cock over your waiting entrance.

As he pushed into you, one hand holding you down onto your desk, he corrected your statement.

“You’re wrong, sweetheart.” Logan explained. “I couldn’t stay away from you before you let me fuck this sweet pussy.”

His deliberate slowness was absolute torture on your body. He filled you up in a way no man, no mutant had ever done before.

“Oh! Right there, Logan!” You moaned out, barely hearing what he said. His cock now pushed against that delicious spongy center in your cunt. He then pulled out, admiring the way your juices coated every thick vein on his member.

He entered you again, just as slowly, making sure both of you felt every inch of his invasion. Your hands reached over to the other side of the desk, your white knuckled grip clutching the edge. You needed to hold on to something, anything to ground yourself or you were going to lose it with how Logan was tormenting you with his cock.

“P-please, keep going!” The desperation in your voice turned whatever you said into a whine.

A few thrusts later, and you could feel that familiar tightening in your core. You were getting so close, and you were sure that the helpless moans that kept coming out of your mouth were an obvious indication to Logan that you were about to cum.

“I knew I wanted to make you scream my name with my cock the very first day we met.” Logan finally concluded, his voice hot in your ear as he pressed his chest onto your back. At the same time he gave this sinful confession, he reached a hand down to find your swollen clit and touched you in just the right way, as if he had done it a million times before.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you came immediately.

”Oh—!”

In the haze of the most explosive pleasure you’ve ever felt, you registered three sensations at the same time.

First, wet jets of his expend painted the hot skin of your back.

Second, a rough hand clapped over your mouth, muffling the orgasmic scream of The Wolverine’s name that was ripping through your lungs.

Third, fireworks. You’ve never seen a man cum so hard that your powers registered an orgasm as fireworks. It was usually a quick flash of light like an old-school camera, but Logan came so hard that his pleasure was literally illuminating your senses like it was the 4th of July.

It was beautiful to witness.

And even more satisfying to participate in.

Breathless, speechless, and completely and thoroughly fucked, you turned around and simply grinned at the sexiest, horniest, hottest man you’ve ever had sex with.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to set up regular “Friday Fucknights” after that.

…

You slowly unfurled your clenched fists from the comforter that you didn’t know you were squeezing tight.

Goddammit.

All the memories of the first time you and Logan had sex made you decidedly horny. Even after Logan had given you a good rough fucking the night before.

Flashes of last night whipped through your brain.

Your face buried in the mattress, your moans disappearing into the fabric.

The cold breeze on your bare ass, raised up to meet Logan’s face.

The scruff of his beard rubbing against your skin.

His nose inhaling your sinful scent.

His lips and tongue eating you out for dessert after he surprised you with a date to a local steakhouse.

It was one of the few dates Logan spontaneously took you out on and it would always start the same way:

“Wanna go for a ride?” He’d ask you.

“Sure.” You’d reply.

And you’d end up at some isolated restaurant with Logan inhaling a monstrous slab of meat as you complained about all the teenage drama you were trying to counsel students through.

A few drinks and naughty kisses in the back corner booth later, the night always ended in your usual sex.

And you know you were clear to him that you just wanted the sex, no strings attached. You told him from the get-go that dating wasn’t really your thing. Due to the nature of your powers, you could never be sure if your partners actually loved you or if it was your love for them influencing how they felt about you. After all, if your powers influenced most mutants, then regular humans were even more susceptible.

But sex with Logan was perfect. Even those random dates were guilt-free and stress-free, because you could finally just be with someone who you didn’t have to worry about any of that with.

At the same time, Logan was intense. It was probably a good idea that you basically saw each other once a week for sex and stayed the hell out of his way the rest of the time.

Honestly? You could only handle The Wolverine in doses.

Between his traumatic hidden memories that emerged in daily nightmares…

And his overwhelming sexual desire for you…

The man was going to be the death of you.

…

A pained sound, almost like a whimper came from Logan. You could see a few beads of sweat break out on his forehead, and you quickly grabbed one of his clenched fists. Your hands gently rubbed over the knuckles where his blades lay hidden beneath a thin layer of skin. In a moment, Logan’s face relaxed and his eyes began to flutter open.

You sighed in relief.

Unfortunately, even though you could only handle Logan once a week, it was clear that Logan wanted you much more than that.

After that first month of Friday Fucknights, Logan had quickly figured out that spending the night with you acted as a natural sleep drug. He suspected it was your powers, or maybe it was just you.

Because somehow, when you were in his bed, he could finally wind down and slumber nightmare free. You noticed it too - his aura turned to a soft, amber yellow when he was sleeping next to you. The emotion of peace and contentment.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Logan murmured, his fingers now interlaced with yours. He brought your entwined hands up to his lips so he could press his lips to it.

Goddammit. There it was again.

The unmistakable feeling of love - pink, swirling wisps floating gently in the air. The smell of those quintessential roses and a deep warm fuzziness in your belly that felt like home.

Logan reeked of it.

…

You first noticed it at the date last night. You were complaining about some adolescent love triangle that Bobby and Rogue and Kitty had tangled themselves up in and Logan was teasing you about it. He was nursing a beer, chuckling as he laughed both at you and with you.

And there was a pause right after the laughter faded where you recognized the emotion he was feeling. You clocked it as soon as he took a sip of his bottle and looked right into your eyes.

Something that you hadn’t felt before from him.

Love.

You immediately deflected by saying something sexual to distract him from thinking too hard about what he felt and his aura quickly switched to that familiar red-hot lust.

That’s all you wanted from him.

That’s all you needed from him.

Right?

From there it was an illegally-fast motorcycle ride back to the mansion for some rough fucking.

…

Trying to hide your unease about his feelings, you hoped he didn’t notice the elongated pause before your reply this morning. Your thoughts were racing about the implications of The Wolverine falling in love with you.

You shouldn’t.

You couldn’t.

Fuck, you needed to distract him.

And yourself.

“Good morning, Logan” you finally snapped out of it and smiled at him. “You feeling alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He opened your palm up and kissed it again, this time, giving your skin a little teasing lick.

“You were tossing in your sleep a little.” You explained, “but I’m about to make you feel all better.” Your voice dropped flirtatious and low.

“Is that right, sweetheart?” Logan’s lifted a brow as you burrowed under the blanket, feeling the waves of heat emanating off of him.

You quickly shimmied down until your face was right in front of his thick cock. After all the sex last night, Logan hadn’t bothered to put on clothes again before he fell asleep.

Neither had you.

Your tongue found his shaft first, while your hands gently caressed his balls. They felt heavy and warm in your palm as you licked up and down his cock.

Above you, Logan immediately twitched and grunted at your touch.

“Mmph - that’s—!” Logan could barely say.

“More?” You teased from under the covers.

“Y-yeah. Please, sweetheart. Give me more.” He groaned, one hand tangling itself to your hair. He gave you a slight, sharp tug that made your arousal flare up.

You took a deep breath before closing your mouth onto the head of his cock, and sucking hard and holding him hostage in return.

“Fuck!” Logan swore, blood rushing down to his member. You could feel him growing in girth, opening your jaw wider, your tongue sliding under him. You refused to let him go, hollowing out your cheeks, drawing him deeper until you had to surface for air.

“Yummy.” You grinned devilishly, swiping away the trail of saliva down your chin.

“My messy girl.” Logan pulled your chin closer until his lips pressed against your mouth. You threw the covers off of the both of you, and climbed on top of him.

“Mmm.” You moaned, his tongue was dancing with yours and it was driving you crazy. “As much as I love kissing you Logan, I think I’d rather ride you today.”

“Be my fucking guest.” Logan smiled against your mouth before releasing your face with a filthy wet smooch.

You admired the ripple of his abs as he leaned against the pillows, his huge arms thrown behind his head. The sight made you lick his taste off your lips, and liquid heat rushed to your core.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about all morning?”

You knelt beside him, your knees squeezing into his hips as you reached below you. God, he was huge. A fact you admired every time you took his substantial girth into your hand.

“What, sweetheart?” Logan gazed at you with a bemused expression on his face.

“The first time we had sex.” You continued. The head was breaching the tight ring of your pussy now.

“That was a great day.” Logan’s chest rose as he sucked in a breath, holding it as he watched you sink down until your bottom was flush to his strong thighs.

“That was a fucking incredible day.” You moaned at the feeling of being so full, so full of him. “And I was sitting pretty in your lap, just like I am right now.”

“Y-you spoil me, sweetheart.” Logan released his breath in a whoosh, his words starting to stutter just like his hips.

“Ah ah ah.” You pulled his hands away from your ass and up to your breasts. ”Don’t rush me.”

Logan responded with a frustrated groan, even as he kneaded your soft flesh and pinched your nipples.

“Fuck that’s good.” You praised him and rewarded him with a roll of your hips. You let his cock slide out only to suck it back in with your next movement.

“I want to feel you, Logan.” You leaned down to press a kiss onto his open mouth. “All of you.”

Without waiting any longer, you bounced your ass on top of his cock, suddenly riding him like your life depended on it.

Logan wrapped his arms around your back as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Expletives flying and a whole host of unseemly sounds spilled out of the both of you.

But nothing compared to the sweet sound of his cock and balls slapping against the soft cheeks of your bottom.

And the messy wet squelch of juices that were streaming out of your pussy and coating his length.

“S-sweetheart! I c-can’t!” Logan’s whine almost made you laugh. Your pussy was so good that it made The Wolverine beg to cum. What a fucking power trip.

“Cum for me Logan!” You encouraged him, your pussy was throbbing with need. Something animalistic was unlocking inside of you and you just had to feel his release inside of your cunt.

After all, you did say you wanted to feel all of him.

And that included his hot, delicious seed.

“Let me—” Logan started to pull you off of him before you grabbed his hands and ground down onto him.

“N-no!” You panted out, still bouncing on him hard. “Cum inside.”

Logan’s eyes widened. With a roar, he sat up and locked his arms around you, his hips jutting up into you once, twice, three times.

And you felt his cock release inside of you at last.

“Oh my god!” You bit into his shoulder, seeing fireworks again, not just for Logan, but for both of you. The room was heavy with the smell of sex and lust and sharp bursts of light that danced across your vision. You could vaguely feel yourself falling back down onto the bed with him, your cheek pressed into his hairy chest.

Your mind was somewhere in space, simply overwhelmed with sensation. This man, this mutant, this Wolverine, gave you the most explosive orgasms every time he fucked you.

Then, as if the sky had cleared after a storm, you saw the fireworks fizzle out. And creeping in from the corner of your eye, you saw it again. That pesky pink fog and the smell of roses.

Love.

…

“Goddamit Logan” you muttered out, lifting your head up to look at the man before you, and your heart immediately softened. His eyes were closed, chest falling and rising rapidly as he recovered. Seeing Logan in that post-sex glow always felt special to you.

He was beautiful.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Logan’s eyes shot open on high alert and he stiffened underneath you, picking up the annoyance in your tone.

You blew out a breath and pushed yourself up on his chest, staring at him before deciding what to say.

What to do.

What to feel.

Logan’s eyes darted across your face, searching for an answer as you battled internally. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks and your heart started to beat in double time.

Fuck it if he was falling for you.

You were addicted to this man.

You were not about to let him go.

“I can feel you, Logan.” You confessed, “I felt it last night, and just when you woke up, and right now.”

“What is it?” Confusion, and a hint of trepidation flashed across his face.

“Love.”

Logan’s brows shot up and he stared into your soul with wide, chocolate-brown eyes. But you stayed silent, waiting for him to deny it, confirm it, something.

With a rustle of sheets, Logan carefully sat up, and you with him. Then, he deliberately placed two warm, calloused palms on both sides of your hot cheeks.

And he kissed you gently.

So fucking gently.

Somehow, that simple kiss felt way more intimate than any of the sex the two of you had ever done.

“Would it be so bad if I loved you?” Logan asked in a low murmur against your lips.

In that instant, your mind recalled everything you loved about Logan.

His gentleness with the students, especially the ones that had powers that were more dangerous or harder to hide. He understood what it felt like to be an outsider. To be feared when you just wanted to belong.

His “I don’t give a fuck” energy when he did, in fact, give a lot of fucks about those he cared about. It showed up in the way he asked about how your week was, and patiently listened to all your complaints before taking you to bed. The way he noticed when you were stressed, or tired, or just needed the comfort of not being alone. The way he put your emotions first before his own.

His ridiculous reputation as the resident flirt, when he was actually so loyal to you. He might have made moves on Jean or Storm or every eligible and un-eligible lady at the school, but you were the only one he called “sweetheart.” You were the only one who saw what Logan looked like when he was afraid, when he was vulnerable. When he was in love.

And of course, his deep respect for Professor X, who he was always just a little bit more well-mannered for. He had changed so much since coming to the school. You could see it In the way he fought on X-missions even though he was so used to fighting for himself, by himself. Now, he was a soldier. A protector.

“No,” you slowly replied. You paused, and covered his hands with your own. ”It would be wonderful.”

Your ears were blessed with the most unbridled, joyful laugh from Logan as he smothered you with his 200 pound body and rained a cascade of kisses all over your skin.

Every press of his lips against your own felt like an I love you over and over again.

“Logan!” You couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Stop!”

“I can’t,” Logan lifted your leg up to his shoulder and drove into your pussy. You were so overwhelmed with his emotion that you hadn’t even seen his cock engorge itself again.

“L-Logan!” You cried out his name again, this time in pleasure.

“I can’t help myself, sweetheart.” Logan kissed you soundly. “Not when I love you this much.”

You held his face, caressing his rough beard and staring into his eyes, shiny with emotion that mirrored your own.

“I love you, too.”

The rest of the morning, laughter and kisses and smiles flooded the room, basking the two of you in the soft, pink glow of the best emotion there is.

Love.

[eve-was-framed]

in case you didn’t think our healthcare system could be any more demonic:

“Although VAWA is widely believed to guarantee the provision of rape kits without cost-sharing for all, there are many gaps which may leave a survivor subject to out-of-pocket costs. These include a limited availability of rape kits, lack of clarity on coverage policies for non-SANE providers offering rape kits, as well as varying definitions of what services are included in rape kits between states, and unclear processes if a hospital or an insurer charges out of pocket costs (Figure 2).

Our analysis included identified episodes in which an adult women received a sexual violence diagnosis and either a STI test or exam procedure code typical of a rape kit (such as tissue examination or salvia swab), at an outpatient clinic, emergency room or urgent care clinic.

Eighty-three percent of women presenting under these circumstances and receiving an initial sexual violence diagnosis incurred out-of-pocket costs. On average, women facing out-of-pocket expenses in one of these cases faced $466 in cost-sharing, with half of women spending more than $226 dollars for all outpatient services.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Insurance companies are making climate risk worse

Tomorrow (November 29), I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

Conservatives may deride the "reality-based community" as a drag on progress and commercial expansion, but even the most noxious pump-and-dump capitalism is supposed to remain tethered to reality by two unbreakable fetters: auditing and insurance:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reality-based_community

No matter how much you value profit over ethics or human thriving, you still need honest books – even if you never show those books to the taxman or the marks. Even an outright scammer needs to know what's coming in and what's going out so they don't get caught in a liquidity trap (that is, "broke"), or overleveraged ("broke," again) exposed to market changes (you guessed it: "broke").

Unfortunately for capitalism, auditing is on its deathbed. The market is sewn up by the wildly corrupt and conflicted Big Four accounting firms that are the very definition of too big to fail/too big to jail. They keep cooking books on behalf of management to the detriment of investors. These double-entry fabrications conceal rot in giant, structurally important firms until they implode spectacularly and suddenly, leaving workers, suppliers, customers and investors in a state of utter higgeldy-piggeldy:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/29/great-andersens-ghost/#mene-mene-bezzle

In helping corporations defraud institutional investors, auditors are facilitating mass scale millionaire-on-billionaire violence, and while that may seem like the kind of fight where you're happy to see either party lose, there are inevitably a lot of noncombatants in the blast radius. Since the Enron collapse, the entire accounting sector has turned to quicksand, which is a big deal, given that it's what industrial capitalism's foundations are anchored to. There's a reason my last novel was a thriller about forensic accounting and Big Tech:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

But accounting isn't the only bedrock that's been reduced to slurry here in capitalism's end-times. The insurance sector is meant to be an unshakably rational enterprise, imposing discipline on the rest of the economy. Sure, your company can do something stupid and reckless, but the insurance bill will be stonking, sufficient to consume the expected additional profits.

But the crash of 2008 made it clear that the largest insurance companies in the world were capable of the same wishful thinking, motivated reasoning, and short-termism that they were supposed to prevent in every other business. Without AIG – one of the largest insurers in the world – there would have been no Great Financial Crisis. The company knowingly underwrote hundreds of billions of dollars in junk bonds dressed up as AAA debt, and required a $180b bailout.

Still, many of us have nursed an ember of hope that the insurance sector would spur Big Finance and its pocket governments into taking the climate emergency seriously. When rising seas and wildfires and zoonotic plagues and famines and rolling refugee crises make cities, businesses, and homes uninsurable risks, then insurers will stop writing policies and the doom will become undeniable. Money talks, bullshit walks.

But while insurers have begun to withdraw from the most climate-endangered places (or crank up premiums), the net effect is to decrease climate resilience and increase risk, creating a "climate risk doom loop" that Advait Arun lays out brilliantly for Phenomenal World:

https://www.phenomenalworld.org/analysis/the-doom-loop/

Part of the problem is political: as people move into high-risk areas (flood-prone coastal cities, fire-threatened urban-wildlife interfaces), politicians are pulling out all the stops to keep insurers from disinvesting in these high-risk zones. They're loosening insurance regs, subsidizing policies, and imposing "disaster risk fees" on everyone in the region.

But the insurance companies themselves are simply not responding aggressively enough to the rising risk. Climate risk is correlated, after all: when everyone in a region is at flood risk, then everyone will be making a claim on the insurance company when the waters come. The insurance trick of spreading risk only works if the risks to everyone in that spread aren't correlated.

Perversely, insurance companies are heavily invested in fossil fuel companies, these being reliable money-spinners where an insurer can park and grow your premiums, on the assumption that most of the people in the risk pool won't file claims at the same time. But those same fossil-fuel assets produce the very correlated risk that could bring down the whole system.

The system is in trouble. US claims from "natural disasters" are topping $100b/year – up from $4.6b in 2000. Home insurance premiums are up (21%!), but it's not enough, especially in drowning Florida and Texas (which is also both roasting and freezing):

https://grist.org/economics/as-climate-risks-mount-the-insurance-safety-net-is-collapsing/

Insurers who put premiums up to cover this new risk run into a paradox: the higher premiums get, the more risk-tolerant customers get. When flood insurance is cheap, lots of homeowners will stump up for it and create a big, uncorrelated risk-pool. When premiums skyrocket, the only people who buy flood policies are homeowners who are dead certain their house is gonna get flooded out and soon. Now you have a risk pool consisting solely of highly correlated, high risk homes. The technical term for this in the insurance trade is: "bad."

But it gets worse: people who decide not to buy policies as prices go up may be doing their own "motivated reasoning" and "mispricing their risk." That is, they may decide, "If I can't afford to move, and I can't afford to sell my house because it's in a flood-zone, and I can't afford insurance, I guess that means I'm going to live here and be uninsured and hope for the best."

This is also bad. The amount of uninsured losses from US climate disaster "dwarfs" insured losses:

https://www.reuters.com/business/environment/hurricanes-floods-bring-120-billion-insurance-losses-2022-2023-01-09/

Here's the doom-loop in a nutshell:

As carbon emissions continue to accumulate, more people are put at risk of climate disaster, while the damages from those disasters intensifies. Vulnerability will drive disinvestment, which in turn exacerbates vulnerability.

Also: the browner and poorer you are, the worse you have it: you are impacted "first and worst":

https://www.climaterealityproject.org/frontline-fenceline-communities

As Arun writes, "Tinkering with insurance markets will not solve their real issues—we must patch the gaping holes in the financial system itself." We have to end the loop that sees the poorest places least insured, and the loss of insurance leading to abandonment by people with money and agency, which zeroes out the budget for climate remediation and resiliency where it is most needed.

The insurance sector is part of the finance industry, and it is disinvesting in climate-endagered places and instead doubling down on its bets on fossil fuels. We can't rely on the insurance sector to discipline other industries by generating "price signals" about the true underlying climate risk. And insurance doesn't just invest in fossil fuels – they're also a major buyer of municipal and state bonds, which means they're part of the "bond vigilante" investors whose decisions constrain the ability of cities to raise and spend money for climate remediation.

When American cities, territories and regions can't float bonds, they historically get taken over and handed to an unelected "control board" who represents distant creditors, not citizens. This is especially true when the people who live in those places are Black or brown – think Puerto Rico or Detroit or Flint. These control board administrators make creditors whole by tearing the people apart.

This is the real doom loop: insurers pull out of poor places threatened by climate disasters. They invest in the fossil fuels that worsen those disasters. They join with bond vigilantes to force disinvestment from infrastructure maintenance and resiliency in those places. Then, the next climate disaster creates more uninsured losses. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Finance and insurance are betting heavily on climate risk modeling – not to avert this crisis, but to ensure that their finances remain intact though it. What's more, it won't work. As climate effects get bigger, they get less predictable – and harder to avoid. The point of insurance is spreading risk, not reducing it. We shouldn't and can't rely on insurance creating price-signals to reduce our climate risk.

But the climate doom-loop can be put in reverse – not by market spending, but by public spending. As Arun writes, we need to create "a global investment architecture that is safe for spending":

https://tanjasail.wordpress.com/2023/10/06/a-world-safe-for-spending/

Public investment in emissions reduction and resiliency can offset climate risk, by reducing future global warming and by making places better prepared to endure the weather and other events that are locked in by past emissions. A just transition will "loosen liquidity constraints on investment in communities made vulnerable by the financial system."

Austerity is a bad investment strategy. Failure to maintain and improve infrastructure doesn't just shift costs into the future, it increases those costs far in excess of any rational discount based on the time value of money. Public institutions should discipline markets, not the other way around. Don't give Wall Street a veto over our climate spending. A National Investment Authority could subordinate markets to human thriving:

https://democracyjournal.org/arguments/industrial-policy-requires-public-not-just-private-equity/

Insurance need not be pitted against human survival. Saving the cities and regions whose bonds are held by insurance companies is good for those companies: "Breaking the climate risk doom loop is the best disaster insurance policy money can buy."

I found Arun's work to be especially bracing because of the book I'm touring now, The Lost Cause, a solarpunk novel set in a world in which vast public investment is being made to address the climate emergency that is everywhere and all at once:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

There is something profoundly hopeful about the belief that we can do something about these foreseeable disasters – rather than remaining frozen in place until the disaster is upon us and it's too late. As Rebecca Solnit says, inhabiting this place in your imagination is "Completely delightful. Neither utopian nor dystopian, it portrays life in SoCal in a future woven from our successes (Green New Deal!), failures (climate chaos anyway), and unresolved conflicts (old MAGA dudes). I loved it."

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/28/re-re-reinsurance/#useless-price-signals

[astoldbyaja]

Primal Ch.1 ~AU Predator (Franchise)~

Teleya Garrett, a kind-hearted woman, creates a new life for herself in New York City. Between the next heat wave and a war between two vicious rival gangs, Teleya catches the attention of the dangerous Yautja enforcer, Scorpion. As their two worlds collide, danger follows as the FBI comes to hunt Scorpion, but nothing will stop him from being with the human he loves.

Warnings: smut, interspecies love, mentions of domestic violence

-----------------------------

I never forget to look up at the sky and just be thankful for surviving.

You never think you’d find yourself in such a terrifying situation until that first strike happens. It started with hitting the wall when he’s angry, then he degrades you to his friends and they laugh at your embarrassment.

Then it finally happens, fist to face contact and you’re seeing stars.

The next day he apologizes and promises not to do it again, but you don’t believe him. He thinks all is forgiven and puts on his nice mask. He still likes your hair straight and will pay seventy-five dollars to get it chemically straightened and styled so later he can praise its beauty as if you wanted your hair relaxed.

He likes you slim and in shape. You go to his gym, so he can watch you, and you work out. At least you can stay healthy and fit for when you have to escape. He thinks he’s your whole world. Your parents are dead and you’re an only child so you have no one to reach out to. All your friends have moved on forgetting about you. He knows your routine, and he knows where you work so he knows where you are. Always. He thinks you’re all his. But you swear to yourself to get out and so you plan. He doesn’t know you have money inherited from your parents’ life insurance policy, and it’s pretty big money stashed away in an account he knows nothing about. Thank God.

After that fist to face contact again you, have to go to the doctor to make sure you can still see out of your right eye. He’s waiting in the car because he thinks you won���t tell the nurses what happen and you don’t, but you ask them what’s a good medication for sleep that won’t kill a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man but will definitely make him sleep hard. The nurses know they shouldn’t offer any information, but they don’t want to see you in a body bag, so they give you something from their personal stashes. Most nurses have all kinds of medication for all kinds of illnesses and symptoms.

“If he’s a drinker and you mix this with his alcohol he’ll be knocked out. Won’t hear a thing, won’t feel a thing.”

You know you could go to jail for this, but you’ve planned and so it’s now or nothing. You make him his favorite meal and he appreciates you even if he says it with a tone of skepticism.

You sit down and watch TV hoping he doesn’t taste the crushed-up pills in his drink. You pet the six-month-old black cat, he gives you as a random gift for not blinding you.

He’s horrible to her, so the cat is scared of him, but finds immense comfort in you. You name her Pandora. After thirty minutes, he’s out like a light. You call his name, you scream, you kick him and hit him in the face and he does not stir. You could slit his throat right here, but you don’t. You look at Pandora who just watches innocently from the chair meowing sweetly at you.

If you go to jail he would most likely kill her out of spite for losing control of you. You move fast and do what must be done. You hurry to the bedroom, pack your clothes, just what you need. Pack the cat up, her basic necessities and you leave with your car keys. It’s the only responsibility he will allow you to have. You leave your phone and any other devices he can possibly find you with and drive to the other side of town and stay at a hotel, sneaking the cat in. You’re scared because you’ve never been alone for this long.

The other time was when he allowed you to go your parent’s funeral by yourself as long as you were back the next day. You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder what your next move is. You hate your hair and everything about it and so you take the kitchen scissors you brought from the house for protection and you just butcher your locks. You cut it all the way off until it’s a small uneven mess. But you laugh during it. You laugh hysterically and cry as well, because you’re free.

The woman next door hears you crying and comes to check on you. She’s someone’s grandmother with dark cocoa skin and white locs. She is beautiful and is a reminder that our black does not crack. She helps you fix your hair and she doesn’t even know your name, but she helps. You sit in silence on the floor between her legs while she snips and cuts to even out the mess you’ve made. You are two strangers who will never see each other again after tonight. In the silence of it all she speaks.

“I’m so very proud of you.” she responds and you nod in agreement finally breaking down again because someone sees you. She gives you money even though you deny the gesture, but she insists, so you take it. “Disappear girl. Go far away and make something of yourself…”

I was twenty- two then. Now it’s been five years, and to this day I still look up at the sky and wonder if he’s thinking of me. I wonder if he gets angry at the fact that I beat him. I survived him.

My name is Teleya Garrett. I work as a executive assistant for a district attorney’s office in New York. It was a big jump, but sometimes you have to jump big to get to freedom. I used some of the money I inherited to find a condo on the upper side of New York. I made sure to keep a budget and with the job I managed to snag, it kept me afloat. Whenever I got really bored, I would babysit for some families who desperately needed child care. Even if they couldn’t pay me much, I didn’t mind. I didn’t need the money, but I wanted to help those who just needed help, like those nurses did for me. I was a college educated woman who had a nice and trusting smile, some said.

Friday was always crazy in New York, and it meant busy streets, and so I would be a little late to the Thompsons house. But once I arrived, they were still grateful.

“Oh, Teleya thank you so much for coming on such short notice.” Kelly Thompson said. She was a single mother of three and worked late at one of the diners in town. Her husband, Mitch, left her when their third child was born. But her construction boyfriend Lou was nice, but he had to work all the time. I shook my head.

“It’s no trouble at all.” I replied setting my bag down. She smiled.

“There’s been so much going on lately with the upcoming heat wave and talk of a gang war happening, I’ve just been filled with so much anxiety. I fear for my girls.” she said truthfully as she tied her white apron to her yellow uniform. I’ve heard there has been tension rising in the slums of New York between some of the rivaling gangs.

“You’d think with this heat they’d be more focused on keeping themselves cool.” I replied, and she nodded dramatically.

“Thank you! Lord and if that’s not enough, the sewers below us are driving me crazy.” she said her eyes moving about as if looking for something. I tilted my head.

“The sewers?” I asked, and she nodded finally finding her hoop earrings and putting them in her ears.

“Yes, for the past two weeks, there’s been rumbling coming from down there. It’s quick, but I hear it. I ask Lou if they’re doing construction, but he says they aren’t. Who knows, hell the earth may be tired of New York and trying to fall out from under us. Purse…. purse, purse.” she said frantically and I just smiled at her.

“It’s on your shoulder.” I pointed, and she looked at her shoulder and groaned in relief.

“Thank you again for coming. I should be back in time to kiss them good night, but if I’m not…?” she trailed off with hopeful eyes, and I smiled.

“I’ll stay until Lou comes.” I replied, and she smiled and gave me a hug. She thanked me again and turned.

“Girls, behave for Teleya!” she called out down the hall as she moved to the door. “There’s money for pizza on the counter by the stove!” That’s usually how it goes. Junk food and movies to immobilize them. I moved down the hall and already saw them in front of the TV. Eliza, Camille, and Tory. Seven, eight, and nine.

“Hey girlies!” I said happily, and they turned to me and smiled with wide eyes.

“Teleya!” they called out and ran to me. I smiled and dropped to my knees and hugged them as they jumped on me. It was already past six and so I helped the girls with their homework, promising pizza and a movie of their choice if they finished it correctly. As they worked, I watched the news.

“The crime rate is sky rocketing after two of New York’s most dangerous gangs, the Hilltop Slashers, an African gang formed in 1982 and the Hu Mongols, a Mongolian gang formed in 1996, declared a gruesome turf war against each other. There have been multiple street fights and shootings of which police have been involved-”

“Teleya, can we watch Moana tonight!” I hear Eliza yell as she runs back into the living room with a DVD cover in her hands. I immediately switch the channel and look at her with a warm smile and nod. That’s their favorite movie.

“Sure. Are you finished with your homework?” I asked.

“Almost. I’ve been helping Camille and Tory too!” she said with pride, and I nodded showing pride myself.

“Good girl, always help your sisters.” I told her, and she nodded and ran back into the room she shared with them. I smiled and got up and moved into the kitchen pulling out my phone for a bit. It was already hot in the house so I opened the window. The air was hot and I hated it.

By nine, the girls were in their beds, with their stuffed animals under their arms. I moved to close the door.

“Teleya, will you sing to us while you’re out there?” Tory asked. I chuckled. I wasn’t the best singer, but it kept them quiet while I tidied up the place after they ran through it all day. I sat my phone down by their bed room door and proceeded to clean the room while Moana’s An Innocent Warrior instrumental played.

“Sure.” I replied leaving the door open. “

Ou mata e matagi. Ou loto mamaina toa. Manatu atu. Taku pelepele.”

Normal POV POV

The only noise Scorpion wanted to hear was the heavy water beneath the sewers as he sat against the sewer walls, the drain opening above him that hid him due to the moon being out. The three bad bloods he had successfully killed, were worthy opponents. He had gashes and cuts all over his body, scars he would soon wear with pride. While he waited for the medicine he applied to work, he sent out a transmission through his wrist gauntlet to the ancient who sent him, letting him know the traitors had been dealt with.

The three bad bloods broke the honor code and fled without facing the consequences. Cowards. They should have just killed themselves and saved the enforcer some time. But now it was over. He cackled lowly and kept his body still listening to the rats squeaking around him as they clawed and nipped at the sides of his armor. He wasn’t bothered by them enough to move any of them. The sewers were perfect for getting around without being seen. There were numerous under ground tunnels and passageways that he himself created long ago. Now that his assignment was complete he had a choice to hunt for himself here or take his ship and return to his yautja prime for a bit.

However, he heard something coming from deep inside the sewers which made his icy white eyes open. Only a rare few yautja had this eye color and it made him extremely popular amongst the females of his tribe, but it also made other clans ridicule him as well, but that was before he moved up the ranks and became an enforcer.

The noise he was hearing made it hard for him to rest. He tried his best to block it out. But it just kept on coming, echoing through the sewers. Scorpion shrilled heavily with annoyance, his mandibles clicking together in irritation. He couldn’t rest until he found out what that annoying sound was. So, he got onto his feet, the bleeding from his wounds had stopped and he hissed lowly before moving down the dark sewers. His bio mask allowed him to see different modes of vision, but for now he used the thermal setting.

As he walked he raised his gauntlet and used the sewer map he created to show him the nearest drain opening. It was in the streets between a neighborhood he had moved through. The noise grew a little louder as he was nearing the next drain opening.

Pa mai to mafanafanaga. Saolotoga tenei Manatunatu. Ki tamafine.

Scorpion had heard the noise before and he concluded it was singing. The voice patterns were high and light and dainty to him.

It was no male, he had heard both the sexes singing from being on this planet for many years. No this was a female. He cackled as he looked up at the sound tilting his head some. A female was singing, and it was distracting him from healing peacefully that much he knew. He growled some at this fact, but as he heard further harmonizing the music moved through his mask and sounded quite odd to him. Slowly he removed the air tubes from his mask and removed it from his face and once he did, he could hear the singing differently. There were no words now and whoever this female was, was just harmonizing now. Scorpion shrilled gently as he examined the entrance above that was not covered with a manhole cover. Light came in and poured down on his body alone beneath the open drain.

He suddenly felt a strange tingle over his body, and he hissed and raised his arm. The tiny muscles in his arms had contracted. This made the enforcer yautja hiss in confusion. The female’s voice was obviously doing something to his body and he didn’t know what and he didn’t like it.

So, he knew he’d have to go investigate further. He placed his mask back on, his body cloaking itself. With little effort he jumped up and gripped the open manhole with one arm before moving from it and was once again out in the city. With no obvious threats around he jumped on the nearest car causing its alarm to go off before attaching himself into the nearest building and moving up to the rooftops with intent to follow the harmonizing trail that would lead him to the female.

[agentmarvel]

Hiiii! Could I please request 🖤 for Keegan with “marriage of convenience!” Thank you!!! <3

i had a lot of fun with this one! thank you for sending one, nonnie!🖤

keegan russ x fem!reader

cw: obsessive!keegan

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

Hesh doesn’t ask favors lightly, so when he asked Keegan for a solid, he was happy to oblige. He didn’t get much in terms of specifics from the elder Walker brother, just that a really sweet thing needed some help, and Kee was the man for the job.

Marriage wasn’t quite what he had in mind when he agreed. He understood that you needed insurance, but there had to be a better way to find it. It’s quite a commitment, even if it’s hollow, and his conspicuous absences would definitely be glaring. You know nothing about him and vice versa. Would you hinder him from getting his dick wet under the guise of emotional trauma from infidelity? The military would rule in your favor in a divorce, especially if you weren’t fucking someone else. Would you whine and nag about the length of his mission? Would he bitch and moan about the way you decorate or your cooking when he’s home? There are too many variables. Enough that he almost considers turning Hesh down.

But then he met you, and all those thoughts went out the window.

Keegan isn’t one for love at first sight, but the second you walk into that coffee shop, he’s hooked on you. He takes his time memorizing every detail of your gorgeous face, each curve of your body in that pretty dress, the cadence of your voice, the sound of your cute giggles. Your little habits don’t go unnoticed; the way you cover your mouth when you eat, the way your nose scrunches when you’re talking about something that you think is gross (Keegan notes that you don’t like tomatoes, that precious little scrunch deepening as your mouth turns downward in disgust).

You seem to be equally taken with him, listening with rapt attention as he answers all your questions. When he walks you back to your car, you loop your hand through his arm. He must look startled, because you immediately retract and apologize. No, no, that’s not what he meant! He was just surprised that you felt the same. To comfort you, he casually slips an arm around your waist, settling on your hip to pull you closer.

It all goes quickly. Within a week, he finds himself at the courthouse, signing a marriage license with his free hand tucked into yours. Days later, he’s in the base admin office, adding you as his next of kin and beneficiary and adding you to his insurance policy. Over the weekend, he moves you into his off-base home. All standard to make the marriage look real, he tells you, no one will question it.

No one will question if your marriage is real because it is. No longer is this simply “doing Hesh a favor”. No, you’re his wife now. You’re his. His to hold, to kiss, to absolutely ruin, to love. And Keegan does love you. Everything about you. You’ll warm up to it pretty soon. While you’re still a little skittish about how real this has become overnight, hiding from his affection and trying to remind him this isn't real, he knows you’ll come around. Before long, he’ll be coming home to your bright smile, smothering him in kisses. You’ll be begging him for a baby when he fucks you stupid after not getting to touch you for weeks or months at a time to keep you company while he’s away. He can’t wait to come home to your big, round belly, swollen with his child, bouncing a chubby little baby on your hip while you prepare for another. You’ll be such a good wife and mother; you just have to come around to the idea.

pick your prompt here!💌

[morlock-holmes]

Did you know that if your insurance provides you a CPAP machine the medical supplier charges monthly payments until the machine is paid off, such that if coverage lapses before the machine is wholly paid off, the customer must make the payments?

"Hey, Coordinated Care Organization, I had a lapse in Medicaid coverage during which I had trouble paying for my CPAP machine. Since Medicaid covers the CPAP machine, can the supplier send you a bill for the back-payments for this service that you cover?"

"Nope! You can either pay out of pocket or maybe the medical supply company will take the machine back and waive payments, in which case you could get a new appointment with a new sleep specialist, who would prescribe a new machine, which we will cover."

"Hey, that sounds like a giant waste of my time and it will cost your organization like, what, ten times what my plan would?"

"Hey, you can't expect us to make sense, that's just the way it works.

"Okay, well, how would I appeal this decision"

"Well, you haven't filed a claim, so there's nothing to appeal."

^^^^100% true statement which I am not paraphrasing

Call up the Medical supply company,

"Hey, so, I had a lapse in my insurance, and I owe you some back-payments, can you submit that as a claim to my new insurance, which will definitely cover it?

"SIR," Everytime one of these people says "SIR" it is in all caps, "We can't do that, if you want to get something retroactively covered you have to call your insurance, Medicaid will sometimes backdate coverage if you would have qualified during the time you weren't covered."

"They just said literally the opposite but OK."

"Hey, CCO, I was told that sometimes you can backdate coverage in instances where a person did not have coverage but would have qualified for coverage?"

"Oh, no, We don't do that, Oregon Health Plan does."

"I thought you were Oregon Health Plan."

"No, we're the Coordinated Care Organization which Oregon Health Plan assigned you to, we don't make those decisions, but I can give you the number for OHP"

Call OHP,

"Hey, I want to do all the stuff I talked about earlier in this department,"

"Oh, sorry, we're the claims department, you want elligibility, I'll transfer you,"

"Sorry sir, Oregon Health Plan can backdate coverage, but you're on Oregon Health Plan Bridge, and you can't backdate coverage on Bridge plans."

"Okay, I am losing my patience, I need to see where it says that in writing,"

"You can just Google Oregon Health Plan and the website has lots of info,"

"I'm sure it does, but I need you to tell me the place where it has the info I asked for, your policy on backdated coverage."

"Please hold"

And some people say he is on hold to this very-

Oh shit, I typed this entire story up while I was waiting on hold and he just answered.

"I've emailed you an internal document that we've been given, but I wasn't able to find, like, the full rules that are available to the public, that would probably take another hour while I find someone who knows where to look for that."

Anyway that process took about two hours.

Weird nobody has much sympathy for that CEO that got shot.

It is frustrating that my question is, "Hey, Insurance Company, can we do this in a way that doesn't waste my time and will cost you quite a lot less money?"

and the answer is, "No, sorry I'm afraid we're highly dedicated to wasting time and money."

[simply-ivanka]

Harris and Schumer Target the Supreme Court

Democrats make clear that if they win, they’ll push measures to destroy the judiciary’s independence.

By 

David B. Rivkin Jr. and Andrew M. Grossman -- Wall Street Journal

Democrats have made clear that if they win the presidency and Congress in November, they will attempt to take over the Supreme Court as well. Shortly after ending his re-election campaign, President Biden put forth a package of high-court “reforms,” including term limits and a “binding” ethics code designed to infringe on judicial authority. Kamala Harris quickly signed on, and Majority Leader Chuck Schumer has made clear that bringing the justices to heel is a top priority.

Democrats proclaim their devotion to democratic institutions, but their plan for the court is an assault on America’s basic constitutional structure. The Framers envisioned a judiciary operating with independence from influences by the political branches. Democratic “reform” proposals are designed to change the composition of the court or, failing that, to influence the justices by turning up the political heat, as President Franklin D. Roosevelt achieved with his failed 1937 court-packing plan.

Now as then, the court stands between a Democratic administration and its ambitions. The reformers’ beef is precisely that the court is doing its job by enforcing constitutional and statutory constraints on the powers of Congress and the executive branch.

Roosevelt sought to shrug off limits on the federal government’s reach. What’s hamstrung the Obama and Biden administrations is the separation of powers among the branches. President Obama saw his signature climate initiative, the Clean Power Plan, stayed by the court, which later ruled that it usurped Congress’s lawmaking power. The Biden administration repeatedly skirted Congress to enact major policies by executive fiat, only for the courts to enjoin and strike them down. That includes the employer vaccine mandate, the eviction moratorium and the student-loan forgiveness plan.

That increasingly muscular exercises of executive power have accompanied the left’s ascendance in the Democratic Party coalition is no coincidence. The legislative process entails compromise and moderation, which typically cuts against radical goals. That was the lesson self-styled progressives took from ObamaCare, which they’ve never stopped faulting for failing to establish a government medical-insurance provider to compete directly with private ones. Similarly, Congress has always tailored student-loan relief to reward public service and account for genuine need.

Then there’s the progressive drive for hands-on administration of the national economy by “expert” agencies empowered to make, enforce and adjudicate the laws. The Supreme Court has stood as a bulwark against the combination of powers that James Madison pronounced “the very definition of tyranny.” Decisions from the 2023-24 term cut back on agencies’ power to make law through aggressive reinterpretation of their statutory authority, to serve as judge in their own cases, and to evade judicial review of regulations alleged to conflict with statute. By enforcing constitutional limits on the concentration of power in agencies, the Roberts court has fortified both democratic accountability and individual liberty.

That explains the Democratic Party’s attacks on the court. The New York Times’s Jamelle Bouie recently praised Mr. Biden for identifying the court as the “major obstacle to the party’s ability” to carry out its agenda and commended the president’s “willingness to challenge the Supreme Court as a political entity.” That explains the ginned-up “ethics” controversies: The aim is to discredit the court, as has become the norm in political warfare.

An even bigger lie is the refrain that the court is “out of control” and “undemocratic.” Consider the most controversial decisions of recent terms. Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization (2022) returned the regulation of abortion to the democratic process. West Virginia v. EPA(2022) and Loper Bright Enterprises v. Raimondo (2024) constrained agencies’ power to say what the law is, without denying Congress’s power to pursue any end. Securities and Exchange Commission v. Jarkesy (2024) elevated the Seventh Amendment right to a jury in fraud cases over the SEC’s preference to bring such cases in its own in-house tribunals. And Trump v. U.S. (2024), the presidential immunity ruling, extended the doctrine of Nixon v. Fitzgerald (1982) to cover criminal charges as well as lawsuits, without altering the scope of presidential power one iota.

Meanwhile, the administrative state has scored wins in some of this year’s cases. In Consumer Financial Protection Bureau v. Community Financial Services Association, the justices rejected a challenge to the CFPB’s open-ended funding mechanism. A ruling to the contrary could have spelled the agency’s end. In Moody v. NetChoice, it reversed a far-reaching injunction restricting agencies’ communications with social-media companies seeking to censor content. And in Food and Drug Administration v. Alliance for Hippocratic Medicine, it reversed another injunction, against the FDA over its approval of an abortion pill. The last two decisions were notable as exercises of judicial restraint. In both cases, the court found the challengers lacked standing to sue.

What Mr. Biden, Ms. Harris, Mr. Schumer and their party are attempting to do is wrong and dangerous. They aim to destroy a branch of federal government. For faithfully carrying out its role, the court faces an unprecedented attack on its independence, beyond even Roosevelt’s threats. Unlike then, however, almost every Democratic lawmaker and official marches in lockstep, and the media, which were skeptical of Roosevelt’s plan, march with them.

As Alexander Hamilton observed, the “independence of the judges” is “requisite to guard the Constitution and the rights of individuals” from the actions of “designing men” set on “dangerous innovations in the government.” The political branches have forgone their own obligation to follow the Constitution, which makes the check of review by an independent judiciary all the more essential. Ms. Harris and Mr. Schumer would put it under threat.

Mr. Rivkin served at the Justice Department and the White House Counsel’s Office in the Reagan and George H.W. Bush administrations. Mr. Grossman is a senior legal fellow at the Buckeye Institute. Both practice appellate and constitutional law in Washington.

[doubleca5t]

Ok, there's something about Home Insurance that I don't get: For many other kinds, the company can negotiate with Mechanics or Vets or whatever to get a discount which can then be used to offer policies lower than what the average person would pay. But Home Insurance doesn't have that, does it? I don't want to call Home Insurance a scam but on average wouldn't someone be better off without it?

You definitely would not be better off without home insurance b/c if your house burns down you would have to pay for the entire thing out of pocket and that would be very much Not Fun.

As for the difference in claims process between PersAuto and Home, I think it has to do with the business model of contractors vs auto shops. Mechanics make the bulk of their money off repairs, so having an insurance company recommend you to their customers in exchange for a discount can give you a huge boost in sales even if it cuts into your margins for individual repairs a bit. Contractors on the other hand make a huge % of their money off remodels, rebuilds, new construction, and other projects where an insurance company isn't involved. They have way less incentive to give a discount in exchange for extra business because their business model gives them a consistent source of revenue regardless of an insurance carrier's recommendation.

Same thing applies to vets with pet insurance - vets make way more money off a sick pet than a routine check-up, so they have a big incentive to get a recommendation from an insurance company.

[r3negade-x]

In response to the woman who was arrested for saying "defend, deny, depose" to united health:

I have mixed feelings about this. Yes, health insurance companies are predatory and their policies cost people their lives. Here's the thing though...none of that was the fault of the person she was on the phone with.

CSRs are not responsible for policy, all they can do is follow it to the best of their ability. They don't get invited to meetings to discuss how to better rip off customers, they don't get asked for their input. The most they can do is try to break the news gently to their customers.

I know it's tempting to believe that they could be like Mr. Incredible, that they could scam the system to help people get what they're owed. But the fact is that that's a fantasy most people can't do for risk of losing their job, risk losing their paycheck, and thus, their ability to live, to provide for their families.

I was a CSR once, and let me tell you, the woman who said that was almost certainly not an isolated case of customers abusing phone staff. Where I worked, we had a specific policy for handling death threats, something you don't come up with unless you need it. That CSR was probably terrified for their life, and I don't blame then.

Before it sounds like I'm completely against the woman, I understand where she's coming from. I know that it's frightening to not know if your kids will live or die because of some men in suits in their ivory tower. She definitely shouldn't be treated the way she is.

What I'm mostly worried about is that we will forget who the real enemy is. It's not the ground-level employees just trying to do their job that's the problem: it's the people at the top. The policy makers. The ones who commission and implement the algorithms that automate death. The CSRs are just following orders to live. The CEOs are the ones ordering your demise.

[cacodaemonia]

You know, when (US) doctor's offices and hospitals started asking people to fill out their medical history and insurance info online, I thought the intention was to move away from doing all of that on paper, or ideally, to give patients a choice of which they prefer.

But no. Now you just have to fill everything out TWICE for absolutely no reason!

And don't even get me started on insurance cards and how they all have different formats, but medical providers use different terms to refer to the various numbers on the cards as well as the person who holds the policy versus the patient, so people will inevitably fill it out wrong and office staff will have to correct it but you give the staff your insurance card anyway so why do they even make people fill that all outtttt and—*bangs head against wall*

🙃🙃🙃 I definitely didn't spend two hours on this today why do you ask????

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Stephen Robinson at Public Notice:

Donald Trump repeatedly promised voters during the 2024 campaign that he was going to reduce prices to pre-covid levels. This pledge was never rooted in a real plan, but he skated by with help from a press that has spent nearly a decade normalizing his lies. When Trump gave a speech in August detailing his “vision” for a second term, he declared, “From the day I take the oath of office, we will rapidly drive prices down, and make America affordable again"

“Prices will come down,” he said. “You just watch: They’ll come down, and they’ll come down fast, not only with insurance, with everything.” And during a speech in October, Trump proclaimed that he would “very quickly” make groceries more affordable.  These comments and others he made on the campaign trail were quite definitive, but now that he’s won the election and is set to return to the White House next month, Trump has dropped his Santa act and gone full Grinch. During his Time Magazine “Person of the Year” interview, he all but laughed in voters’ faces when asked about lowering prices. “It's hard to bring things down once they're up,” Trump said. “You know, it's very hard. But I think that they will.” This sudden about-face is hardly shocking considering Trump is a world historical liar. What’s damning, though, is that the mainstream press enabled Trump’s scam by helping him create an impression that he had an actual plan to lower prices instead of reporting the obvious truth — that he was offering nothing but bluster and empty talking points all along.

Double standards

Trump’s correct, of course, that it’s hard to lower prices once they’ve gone up, but any freshman economics student could’ve told you that before the election. The coverage of Trump’s shameless backtracking is revealing. A USA Today headline read, “Trump says bringing down grocery prices is 'very hard' after vowing to cut costs on the campaign trail.” From ABC News: “Trump now says bringing down grocery prices, as he promised, will be 'very hard.’” And Vanity Fair: “Trump Promised No Wars and Lower Prices. Now He's Walking That Back.” Absent from these headlines is the simple word “lied,” which is what Trump did.

Compare this to the media’s reaction when Joe Biden pardoned his son Hunter. PBS declared, “Biden broke a promise pardoning his son Hunter, raising questions about his legacy.” The Guardian tut-tutted, “With his pardon of son Hunter, Joe Biden delivers a heartfelt hypocrisy.” Trump isn’t responding to compelling new information, as Biden did when he pardoned Hunter after Trump nominated malevolent conspiracy theorist Kash Patel to be his new FBI director. And economic indicators haven’t drastically changed since Trump’s carnival barker routine was in full swing during the campaign. Legacy media gullibly accepted Trump’s promises to magically lower prices even though there was no coherent economic agenda behind his empty talk. In fact, Trump’s signature tariffs proposal would only cause prices to increase. But the press mostly let the conman behind the curtain do his thing.

[...] When he accepted the Republican presidential nomination for the third time last summer, Trump vowed to “make America affordable again.” At a press conference, he claimed that prices for everyday grocery items had surged specifically because of the Biden/Harris administration’s policies, with no mention of the pandemic he’d mismanaged. Reporters rarely pressed him on this omission. "Harris has just declared that tackling inflation will be a day one priority for her," he said. "But day one for Kamala was three and a half years ago. Where has she been?" Trump went even further, though, and vowed to outright lower prices. That’s all but impossible without a recession or deflationary period, both of which would be far worse for the average American’s wallet than a $3 carton of eggs. The press would have been doing the country a service by exposing Trump’s pandering instead of nitpicking Harris to death. But even Trump’s most ridiculous campaign proposals — such as trying to rebrand himself as an advocate for women by floating the idea of taxpayers picking up the tab for costly IVF treatments — received exactly the sort of credulous coverage he was hoping for.

It’s just a fact that Trump will says anything to win an election and more often than not is full of it. But stating that clearly would make mainstream outlets like the New York Times seem like they were in the tank for Harris. And so instead of being straight with their audiences and telling them what Trump himself now admits — that he has no real plan to bring prices down — journalists far too often took him at face value.

Donald Trump lied to the American people on the campaign trail pitching himself as a man who’ll lower your gas and grocery bills. In reality, he never had a real plan to tackle those issues, and most of the mainstream media gave Trump’s lies credence.