This Broke Me, I Almost Whined While At Work

Peaceful autumn

Why This Chris Must Go

I didn’t post this until I’d waded through seventeen different sources - including The New York Times and California political donor records (which are public) and wasted too much time that should have been spent harassing my daughter about her homework. But there was a joking little Twitter poll about Which Chris Must Go? that went viral when people starting posting about Chris Pratt’s political and “spiritual” leanings. I was on the fence about Pratt since he abruptly divorced Anna Faris and left their special needs son to hastily marry Katherine Schwarzenegger. Then, he joined the GOP Schwarzenegger family’s church, The Hillsong Church, which considers LGBTQ+ an “offense against god” and advocates for electroshock therapy to get rid of the gay. (Remember that barbaric shit? Even my backwards ass state banned it.) He also works with Jews for Jesus, who attempt to convert people from the Jewish faith to Christianity (I guess with electroshock therapy, since that’s working for the gays, right Chris?) Aaaand, he and his adorable bride donated a heavy chunk of change to Trump’s 2020 re-election campaign. I’m no political scientist, but that sounds like a pretty staunch support for this psycho to get re-elected. Frankly, I don’t care. That’s not why I’m disgusted.

It was quite the backlash. And so guess who leaps to his defense? Some of the rich, white straight guys from Marvel. Robert Downey Jr. who initially posted “Fuck you all.” in response on his Instagram account deleted it before adding this lovely moment of concern. My sweet Mark Ruffalo (oh, Mark, how could you?) did as well.

You know who didn’t leap to his defense? Brie Larsen. Tessa Thompson. Zendaya. (Nor any of the other Chrises, by the way.) So, where was the support when these women were viciously bullied online? Brie got death threats for daring to become Captain America. Tessa and Z were ruthlessly subjected to racism and misogyny for acting in the Marvel Universe. Not a fucking word of defense for these women- who were truly being brutalized. So, RDJ? Fuck you, kitten. Fuck you for being a hypocrite and defending the guy just because the public learned about his leanings and “spiritual” activities. And Mark, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed. And for the other rich, white, straight Hollywood guys to leapt to his defense? Brie, Tessa and Z are still waiting for your passionate words of support.

Happy fall 🍂

your fave fingering you, hitting all the right spots, keeping a perfectly maddening pace, thumb pressed right over your clit while his slick knuckles slide in and out and in and out making you cum again and again—and you start to whimper and squirm away but he just holds you down with his other hand and pouts,

c'mon sweetheart, you're doing so well for me, don't make me stop now...

Cape Disappointment, Washington

Karsten Winegeart

News Anchor in my area loses it over a Fat Cat that likes to swim.

Everyone always wants to talk about Hook or Pan. Everyone always wants to debate which one is good and which is evil - who we’re supposed to follow and who we aren’t. The Peter Pan mythos has pretty much shrunk down to nothing but Hook and Pan (Hook, SyFy’s Neverland, Pan, OUAT, etc). Occasionally Tinkerbell factors in (Hook, Disney’s Tinkerbell, OUAT, etc). There’s one character, however, that always gets sidelined - which is puzzling since they are the main character of both the play and the book. That character is, of course, Wendy Darling.

Peter Pan is Wendy’s coming of age story. Wendy who decides to run away from home. Wendy who realizes that she must grow up - and that there’s no shame in that. Wendy who sees Peter as deficient and sees Hook as empty and decides that, no, she doesn’t want to be a part of that. Wendy gets the adventure she’s always wanted and she turns away because she realizes that it’s lacking. She’s the only one who truly sees the hollowness of being young forever. Barrie even says “You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than other girls.”

People always debate on who the hero is. When they learn that Peter could be horrid they assume it has to be Hook. Of course, the answer is that neither of them are the hero. Wendy is the hero of the story. You’re not supposed to be like Peter, who kept every good and bad aspects of being a child and can’t tell right from wrong. You’re not supposed to be Hook, either. He let go of everything childish and loving about him and became bitter and evil. They’re both the extreme ends of the scale. You’re supposed to fall in the middle, to hold onto the things about childhood that make it beautiful - the wonder, the imagination, the innocence - while still growing up and learning morality and responsibility. You’re not supposed to be Hook. You’re not supposed to be Peter Pan.

You’re supposed to be Wendy Darling. 

Sweet Dreams

Jake Jensen X Reader

Summary: Your sleeping body gives away your waking thoughts.

Warnings: 18+, language, sexual content (somnophilia, thigh riding, unprotected vaginal sex).

Credits: dividers by @firefly-graphics and thanks go to my ever lovely beta reader @christywantspizza ❤️❤️❤️

AN: My first Jake fic so please be gentle!

He was being tortured, that was the only explanation. The only reason he would be tested like this, so cruelly, made to hold back from his desires. Teased. Taunted. Tried.That had to be the explanation. 

There could be no other reason why he was lying still, tired and desperate...hard, while you clung to him. He would like to say while you slept but this was something between sleep and full consciousness. Your eyes were certainly closed, but your body seemed to be awake, moving of its own accord, rolling against Jake's own like the steady lap of the waves on the other side of the canvas tent. 

Jake starred up into the darkness and rubbed a hand over his face, taking his glasses off so he could more effectively hide his face. The blush growing on his cheeks was red hot, making him sweat in the tropical heat. 

What could have changed. Why were you doing this now? This wasn't the first time the two of you had shared the tent, or a bed for that matter. You'd spent countless nights holed up together setting up comms, tapping into whatever security systems you had to breach and monitoring targets. 

When it was cold, Jake had held you against his broad chest, tucked you into the warmth of his arms and you'd shivered together until you both fell into a dreamless, solid sleep. 

In Mexico you'd posed as a couple to get closer to your mark, holding hands and sharing a room, but that was it. At night, you'd stayed to your side of the expansive honeymoon suite bed. 

Tonight you had pitched the tent together, rolled out your sleeping bags while the sun was setting and talked until the stars twinkled above you. There had been no indication that you expected or wanted anything else... Your hips rolled again, body drawn to him and, like a magnet, he followed, pressing his leg up against you and basking in the whimper he received in return. 

You were friends. You had let him finish your food when he was still hungry. He had traded you a shirt when yours got wet with salt water. Just friends, you would never hurt him or trick him. 

So why were you doing this if it wasn't to torture him? Your grip on him tightened, the leg you'd slung over his twitched, and then you started again, harder, faster. Grinding and rocking against his thigh, your small hands clutching his damp t-shirt. Breathy pants and huffs of pleasure and frustration blew across the sensitive skin of his neck, making the hairs on his nape stand on end. 

He should wake you up, you'd be embarrassed in the morning, he should definitely wake you. But he couldn't deny he was enjoying each racked sob you gave him, each little moan and pant like the singing of angels. Each roll of your hips giving permission for his own arousal to grow. 

With his left hand on the small of your back, trapped by the weight of your head and shoulders, Jake lifted his right hand to your side. 

Beneath his large palm you were warm too, still sun-kissed from your long day. At first you squirmed against his touch, too light and tickling, making the whole situation worse. Flattening his hand made you stop, although now he could feel the dip of your hip, the swell of your ass. Experimentally he pressed his hand down to feel the soft curves of your body. 

You responded instantly, your body stilling but holding him ever tighter. 

Your moan took shape around his name, "Jake." 

Shocked, Jake pressed his left hand deeper into the small of your back, forcing you closer, your legs tighter around him. You ground yourself against him, deep and slow, his hands helpless, squeezing and rubbing, unable to let you go. 

"Jake, oh- Jake, Jay, Jayyy -" your moans becoming more desperate, his leg wet from your arousal. 

He couldn't take it anymore. His cock, impossibly hard, throbbed with each delicious movement of your body. 

"I'm here - I'm here - wake up." He poked a finger into your side making you squirm and puff a laugh across his neck.

"Jake." You hummed his name, reedy and thin "stop it - I -ugh" you grunted when he shifted you again, desperate for you to wake up. He pushed you up until you were seated across his lap, your eyes flying open. "Jake! What's happening? Are we under attack?" 

"Are we under attack? Are you fucking kidding me sweetheart?" 

"You woke me up?" 

"You woke me up!" 

You looked down, the tent of his shorts and the damp patch on your own, unmistakable. 

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" You tried to move but his hands kept you still, hips bucking slightly at the movement. 

"Just. Stop. If you're not going to help, stop." 

And you did. But only for a second. 

Your hand reached inside his shorts and pulled his leaking cock free, letting it tap his belly with a wet smack. Quickly you shimmied out of your own shorts before sitting astride his thighs. 

"You want me to help?"

Jake tipped his head back and nodded, "Fuck yes." Helping you to sink down into his lap, you could hardly see, blinking sleep from your eyes and letting your mind wander back into the sleepy daze it was so recently enjoying. 

"Fuck, JJ. So fucking big." You sobbed, trying to fall forwards, held up by his palms 

"Knew you'd be filthy, way you rubbed yourself on me in your sleep." He choked out. 

Jake rolled you both onto your sides, pulling you so close you could feel him breathing, wrapped together. 

"I don't- ungh - I don't rub myself on you when I'm asleep!" 

He tightened his grip on your hips, moving your body and taking ownership of each spark of arousal. 

"You do, you were being needy, whiney, my poor baby." His hands cupped your cheeks until you pouted, kisses dancing over you. "But I love it." He gave a harsh thrust, the coil of desire tightening in you.

In the gloom of the tent, and without his glasses, Jake struggled to see you properly, pressing his forehead to yours so he could feel each pinch of your eyebrows, the scrunch of your nose and the soft puff of breath you exhaled as you got closer and closer to release. His beard tickled and scratched the soft skin of your neck following his kisses. 

"I was not." You tried to protest, but Jake tipped his hips, changing the angle and catching the soft spot inside of you that made stars explode in your vision at the same time as pressing down on your swollen clit. 

"Sure, baby, sure." He teased again, face so close you were breathing as one, panting and keening into the sticky air. Each thrust forcing another high pitched whine to escape you. You tipped your head up, catching Jake's lips with your own for the first time and licking into his mouth. He held you close, a hand on the nape of your neck and noses nudging together until you could hardly breathe, dizzy with the sweetness of his kisses. 

Too soon, you felt your release building, each thrust of Jake's hips brushed firm and rhythmic over your clit, pleasure danced up your spine making your toes curl and your fingers tighten in the short blonde hair at the back of his head.

"Jay-" 

His hand clamped around your mouth to muzzle your cry of his name before moving to your lower back. He held you close while you rode out your orgasm, letting you roll your hips over him as you had in your sleep, chasing the aftershocks until you were sated and limp in his arms. 

Like a rag doll he moved you again, holding you close while he gave one, two, three final thrusts, spilling inside of you. 

"Shit." He pulled back, hands still all over you, burning warm but surprisingly soft. 

"Shit " you echoed, falling back onto your camping mat. 

"I - hah - I guess sorry for waking you up." You laughed. Deep down you knew this should have been awkward but… it was Jake. Your Jake. Somehow it just felt right to lie there with him in the after glow and, after all, wasn't this exactly what you'd been dreaming of? 

"If you want to wake me up again sometime, baby, go ahead." Jake laughed, shaking his head, surprisingly shy. With a sigh, you rolled onto your side, looking at Jake's profile in the moonlight seeping through the tent. All of a sudden,you felt very, very tired again. 

Using the last of your energy, you curled yourself into his side, Jake stretched an arm around your shoulders, tucking your head into his chest and you let your eyes fall closed again, content.