#also a Friedman
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azazelsazaleas · 1 year ago
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I bought myself Amplitube 5 as a birthday present to myself about a month ago; and while I’m really enjoying it, it’s having the opposite effect on me than it’s supposed to. Instead of being satisfied that I can now get a wide palette of different guitar sounds, I now really want a giant collection of amps IRL
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mjfass · 4 months ago
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The one who flips off kids? The one who makes obscene gestures to the audience? The one who pretends he is face fucking his opponents during a match? The one who also makes the jerking off gesture with his opponent arm? The one who gets booed by an entire audience? That one, that one is my favorite wrestler.
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adamcoles-baybay · 2 months ago
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bitchy™
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maxwelljacobfriedman · 1 year ago
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mobiblackout · 1 month ago
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Max is just like me, he is not over that one storyline ...
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annieqattheperipheral · 8 months ago
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From a recent 32 thoughts episode, email sent by a hockey trainer...
might be of interest to you @hopetorun and other fellow fans of beautiful glasses-wearing hockeys:
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greghatecrimes · 1 month ago
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I've been on and off debating this for a few months, but finally decided to do it:
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tattoo (my first) is courtesy of my amazing partner!❤️ little ramble under the cut.
(xiii is the roman numeral for 'thirteen'!)
Everything about this show-- but specifically the character of Thirteen-- has given me an ability to put things into words that I never imagined I would be able to express, let alone connect with other people over. It's been such a comfort for me over the past... almost year and a half, especially so now that I've been thrown headfirst into the reality of being chronically ill and getting diagnosed with a genetic condition over the last few months.
For the rest of my life the number thirteen will hold such lovely significance for me. A lucky number. A symbol of a character I relate to, take comfort in, and adore (and who happens to be one of the best-written lgbt+ characters of her era, let alone when compared to a lot of present day characters). And, most importantly, a symbol of my own personal healing and growth (especially because writing In the Dirt has been so incredibly healing for me so far & will continue to be).
Lucky thirteen, indeed.
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glitteryscar · 2 months ago
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🏆 230729 - Friendship's 1st win 🏆 230802 - Friendship's 2nd win 🏆 230827 - Friendship's 3rd win
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houseofpunk · 2 years ago
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AEW wrestlers as the seven deadly sins:
Sloth
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Pride
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Greed
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Lust
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Envy
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Gluttony
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Wrath
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milesworld96 · 1 year ago
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They are feeding me so well on dynamite, holy shit dude
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smilingformoney · 11 months ago
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Rickmas 2023: Day 7. Stormy Reunion | David/Charley (OC)
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Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:
Charley Tate could literally be under the water in a bathtub and she’d probably be drier than she was right now. Hell, at least she’d be naked and warm, unlike now, with her soaking wet clothes clinging to her skin and the below freezing temperature turning her nose, fingers and probably her toes bright red. That was if she even had any toes left - she couldn’t feel her feet at all, so they may well have fallen off and she’d not have noticed.
She’d been waiting on the street corner for a taxi for the last twenty minutes, but no empty cars passed her by. She shivered, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and wondered if it might be better to go back into the train station and wait there until morning.
A car approached, and she peered hopefully through the rain in the hopes it was a taxi, but it was just a police car. Maybe she could get herself arrested - a night in a prison cell might be slightly preferable to freezing to death on the street corner.
The police car slowed down, and she thought for a moment she was going to be arrested - surely the cop didn’t think she was soliciting herself in this weather, did he?
With all the rain on the windows, she couldn’t see through, so she had only to wait for the window to slowly roll down to see her visitor.
“Can I help you, Officer?” Charley asked as politely as she could when she had to shout to be heard over the rain.
“Charley?” came the reply, a deep, baritone voice she hadn’t heard in years, but she recognised it straight away. She bent down slightly to peer into the car.
“David Friedman? Is that you?”
“Yeah it’s me, the real question is what the hell are you doin’ back in New Orleans and why are you tryna catch your death?”
“Can I answer those questions in the back of your car? Preferably with the heating on full blast?”
David sighed, but he gestured to the passenger door. “Get in the front. I ain’t arresting ya.”
“Thanks, Dave!”
Charley hurried around to the other side of the car and climbed in, sighing with relief when the warmth of the heating hit her face.
“Damn, Charley, you’re soaked. Good thing I found ya. Here.”
David shrugged his jacket off and handed it to her. She wanted to tell him not to bother getting his jacket wet for her, but she was far too cold to worry about manners now.
“Oh my god, Dave, you are my saviour,” Charley groaned with relief, slumping back in the seat. “I owe you big time. A new jacket, for one.”
“Yeah, well, don’t take this for granted. I’m a cop, not a taxi driver. Where to? Your folks’ place?”
“Naw, they downsized soon as I left. No room for li’l Charlotte anymore. I’m stayin’ at the Empress.”
“You’re what?! Hell naw. If you managed to get there without dyin’ of pneumonia, you’d die from some infection or another from that place. If you ain’t got no place to stay, you’re stayin’ with me.”
Charley’s heart did a somersault, and she tried to ignore it. She hadn’t seen David in three years, and she’d done her mighty best to forget him in that time. So of course, as soon as she came back to New Orleans, he was the first fucker she ran into.
“You don’t have to do that, Dave. I can handle the hotel –”
“It’s my place or the precinct, doll. I ain’t leavin’ you there and gettin’ up tomorrow to see your obit splashed across the front page.”
“Aww, I knew you still cared!”
“Naw, I just ain’t bothered with the paperwork.”
She glanced over at him, and although he was trying to act cool, she could see the twitch of a smile on his face even as he peered through the rain to head towards his place.
“So you gonna tell me what you’re doin’ in New Orleans, Charley? Last I heard you were off to New York to make it big.”
Charley shrugged, wrapping David’s jacket around her shoulders a little tighter, and she couldn’t help noticing he still wore the same oaky aftershave he’d always worn.
“Didn’t make it. Clearly. Sold everything I had just to get a ticket home.”
“Wait - everything? You ain’t even got a bag on you, Charley.”
“I got a wallet! Not that there’s much in there. Just enough to keep me in the hotel for, like, a month.”
“Well, you ain’t steppin’ foot in that hotel, so you can use that cash to buy yourself some damn clothes for one.”
“I gotta stay somewhere, Dave –”
“Yeah, my place.”
“What? No! I’ll take ya up on it tonight, Dave, but I can’t stay.”
David waved his hand at her dismissively. “Shut the fuck up, Charley. You stayed enough times before.”
“Yeah, but that was… different.”
David glanced at her, then turned his eyes back to the road.
“Don’t have to be,” he muttered.
Charley frowned. “What?”
“I said, it don’t have to be,” David repeated, clearly agitated at having to repeat himself. “Different, I mean.”
Charley sat up in her seat slightly, looking at him curiously. “What makes you think I want it to be the same? Maybe I got me a boyfriend back in New York.”
David scoffed. “Oh yeah? Then why ain’t you stayin’ with him?”
She didn’t answer, and chose to stare out the rain-soaked window instead. She could just make out the illuminated store signs as they went by, and she recognised every single one of them. New Orleans had hardly changed in the three years since she’d left. Hell, even David hadn’t changed.
“Charley, I’m serious about stayin’ with me long as you need to,” David said, breaking the silence. “It don’t have to be the same if you don’t want it. I’m sure us southern country bumpkins don’t stand up to the fancy folks in New York –”
“I tried to date,” she said, interrupting him. She looked over at him again, admiring the gorgeous profile of the man she’d said goodbye to three years ago. “But I never liked them fancy folks, Dave. I suppose my type is more… rugged.”
David glanced at her, and for a moment their eyes met before he turned his attention back to the road, but she saw enough of the old familiar fire in his eyes to know her old flame still wanted her.
“I gotta get gas,” David muttered as a gas station came up ahead.
“How’s Jess?”
“Fuckin’ big. Comes up to my waist now.”
“She still with her mom?”
“You askin’ if I got back with my cheating wife, Charley?”
“Just askin’. I know it was hairy when I left.”
“Yeah, she’s with her mom. I get her on weekends, though. ‘Specially now that Matty’s in jail.”
“Matty’s what?”
David smirked at her as he pulled into the gas station. “Oh, yeah. He was involved in all sortsa shady shit. Colluded with Senator Hornbeck an’ everything. I’ll tell ya all about it - after I get gas.”
“Aw, Dave, ya can’t leave me hangin’ like that!” Charley whined, getting out of the car with him in hopes of hearing the story sooner. “What’d they do?”
“Later, Charley,” David insisted, nodding subtly to another man who was pumping his gas within earshot.
Charley huffed and leaned against the car, hugging David’s jacket closer around her as he started filling the gas tank.
“I always knew Matty was up to no good,” she said. “Past just stealin’ your wife.”
“Yeah, thanks for remindin’ me,” David replied.
“Aw, c’mon now. If he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had a brief but passionate love affair with a cute bar singer, now, would ya?”
She grinned at him flirtatiously, and he rolled his eyes, which she knew meant she was charming him.
“Wait here,” David told her, tossing her the keys after finishing up. “Don’t go drivin’ off in that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Detective.”
Charley paced around a little, trying to keep warm as she waited for David to come out of the shop where he was paying. When he returned, he was carrying a coat.
“Here,” he said, handing it to her. “You’re still shiverin’.”
“Dave! You didn’t have to do that –”
“I ain’t letting you freeze to death before I even get you home, doll.”
She looked at him, a smirk on her lips. “No? What you plannin’ for when you get me home, then, Dave?”
“Somethin’ like this.”
He closed the gap between them, pushing her up against the car, and her previously cold lips lit up with a fiery passion as David kissed her, just as greedily as she remembered. Christ, she’d missed this. Missed his lips on hers, the way his strong arms wrapped around her much smaller frame, and trapping her against the car just made her feel smaller, more trapped, and a hell of a lot more aroused.
A car horn honked, and David pulled away, panting, desire burning hot in his eyes.
“How much further to yours?” Charley asked, similarly out of breath.
“Half an hour.”
“Fuck that. Find a layby and take me in the back, Dave, just like old times.”
“Ohh, I fuckin’ want to,” David growled, his hands wrapped around her waist, ignoring the continued honks from the car behind. “But you’re still soaked, doll, and not in the good way. I won’t rest easy ‘til I get you somewhere with central heating. Then I’ll make you scream ‘til you’re beggin’ me to stop.”
“Then get to drivin’, mister.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
***
When they arrived at David’s place half an hour later, Charley was a lot warmer and drier, but when she got out of the car she still left a considerable wet patch behind. Her arousal had died down a little as they talked for the rest of the journey and David filled her in on how Matty Grimes had landed himself in jail, but it didn’t take long to reignite it when she entered the familiar house, which hadn’t changed much in three years, and David hoisted her over his shoulder, making her squeal in surprise.
“David Friedman, you put me down!” Charley demanded, but he only laughed.
“I will, doll, I will.”
He climbed the stairs with her over his shoulder, and she knew exactly where he was taking her. Sure enough, he turned into his bedroom and put her back down on her feet as he pushed the door closed with his foot.
“Them clothes are awful wet, doll. Better get ‘em off quick.”
Charley did her best to peel off her t-shirt, but it really was stuck to her, so David helped her and with much laughter and fumbling the two of them managed to get her wet clothes off and tossed aside, leaving her standing naked but for her bra and panties, while he was still fully dressed.
“Gonna arrest me for indecent exposure, Detective?” Charley teased, fingers dancing along his tie before tugging at the knot to loosen it. “Or are you gonna join me?”
“I’m not in the shape I was when you left,” David warned her as he pulled his tie over his head before starting working on the buttons of his shirt. “Three years of post-divorce depression’s not great for the gut. Plus I’m an old man, Charley, it’s hard to stay in shape.”
“You think I fuckin’ care if you put on a few pounds, Dave? I think I made it pretty obvious I think you’re fuckin’ hot. And you ain’t that old.”
“I’m fifty-three. You’re, what? Twenty-somethin’?”
Charley shrugged and unbuckled his belt for him. “An’ I was twenty-somethin’ last time, too, that didn’t stop ya.”
She went to pull his pants down, but David grabbed her wrist, forcing her to look him in the eye.
“Three years ago I was drowning my sorrows in drink every night at Banana Joe’s ‘cus my wife was divorcin’ me to get with my old partner. I see some pretty li’l thing singin’ with a band up there and she starts flirtin’ with me after. ‘Course I’m gonna take her home. My fragile ego needed the boost. But you were right to leave, Charley. I ain’t boyfriend material. Clearly, I ain’t even husband material. You had your dreams and you followed ‘em, and I’m sorry they let you down. Now, I fuckin’ missed you, and if you want me to, I will stick my cock in every damn hole you got ‘cus I am still a sad, lonely old drunk who’s no good for nobody. But if you think you’re gettin’ some boyfriend outta this, then I’m sorry to disappoint, doll. ‘Cus I ain’t lookin’ for no girlfriend.”
“Are you done?”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, are you done? Or are you gonna tell me more ‘bout how you don’t love me and you just want a good fuck? ‘Cus I didn’t come back for you, David Friedman. I didn’t even wanna come back. But I had nowhere else to go. Now, you wanna offer me a warm bed and a good fuck while I find my feet in this town? Fine. But I ain’t looking for no boyfriend neither, Dave. I’ve had a hell of a week, and fucking you might well make it all worth it. Now, are you gonna remind me what your cock tastes like or not?”
David grinned hungrily and released her wrist from his grip.
“By all means, doll. I’m all yours.”
She rolled her eyes at him, but she sunk to her knees and pulled his pants down as she went. Charley moaned hungrily when his erect cock popped out of his boxers, just as big as she remembered it.
“See, now they ain’t got cocks like this in New York,” she teased as she took the base of his shaft in her hand and held it still while she licked around his tip, teasing out the precum. “All that shoutin’ and runnin’ about - they’re compensatin’ for somethin’. But you ain’t got nothin’ to compensate for, do ya, boo?”
“Awful lot of talking and not a lot of cocksucking down there,” David replied, and she grinned mischievously.
“Sorry, Daddy.”
She opened her mouth and let him in, and they both groaned as his shaft pushed past her lips and towards the back of her throat.
“Mmm, that’s it… only wanna hear you suckin’. Get a real good taste of it, Charl. Mhm… ah, fuck. Just what I needed after a - ah! - long day…”
His hand tangled itself in her hair as she bobbed back and forth, relieved to finally taste him on her tongue again. She didn’t care that he was a good thirty years her senior, or that he was a cop, or that he was the grumpiest man in existence. She didn’t wanna date him, after all. She just wanted to suck his cock, to fuck him and be fucked him by him, to feel his stubble rubbing against her thighs as he ate her out.
Sure, in the short time they’d spent together, they didn’t spend every moment fucking. Sometimes they ate, or showered, or watched TV. Sometimes they even talked, and she even found she liked talking to him. But he was in the middle of a messy divorce, and she didn’t wanna touch that with a bargepole, especially since she was still fucked up from a cheating ex.
Now, that was three years ago, and she was over that scumbag. She hoped David was over his ex too, but she supposed it was harder for him because he had to co-parent with her. Still, he must need a stress relief. An eager young thing desperate to make him feel good, because she’s just as fucked up as he is and approval from him makes up for all the ways she’s fucked up her own life.
And approval was definitely what she was getting right now, if David’s moans were anything to go by. He always had been a very vocal man. Whether muttering dirty things in her ear at the bar or grunting as he fucked her into his bed, David Friedman certainly made his feelings known.
“Oh, I’m gonna cum all down that throat of yours,” David groaned, his hand now holding her head in place as he fucked her mouth desperately. “Ugh - oh - fucking hell, Charl… fuck!”
His hips snapped forward and stilled, his cock stuffed as far down her throat as it could go, and she could only moan as she felt him fill her up with his hot cum, trickling down her throat just where it belonged. It must have been a while since he last jacked off because he shot a good load down there, and she made sure to breathe through her nose as he did.
She whined a little when he pulled out, and David just laughed at her as she instinctively followed him.
“Christ, I fuckin’ needed that,” he said with a sigh of relief, his head lolling back slightly as he caught his breath.
Charley, meanwhile, was eagerly lapping up what he’d left on her lips, and he laughed when he looked down at her.
“Thirsty li’l thing, huh? Don’t worry, darlin’. I ain’t that old - I got another round in me. But first, get your ass on that bed. Reckon it’s my turn to remind myself what you taste like.”
Why on earth had she ever left for New York, she asked herself half an hour later when she was wrapped up in David’s arms, both sweaty and out of breath, laughing at the ridiculousness of the fact she’d hardly been back two hours and had already found herself in his bed.
“Welcome back to New Orleans, Charl,” David said as he pulled you in tighter. “You better be fuckin’ stayin’ this time.”
“Oh, I ain’t goin’ nowhere, David Friedman.”
“Good.” David kissed the top of her head, a lot more gently than she’d expected.
“Is it?”
“What?”
“Good?”
“‘Course it fuckin’ is.”
“Alright. ‘Cus I gotta be honest, Dave, I couldn’t get you off my damn mind. I sure as hell didn’t come back for ya, but I sure hoped I’d run into ya. Didn’t expect it to be so soon, mind.”
“‘M glad it was,” David mumbled sleepily. “Missed you.”
His eyes were closed, so he didn’t see her smiling coyly.
“Missed you too, Dave.”
But he was already asleep.
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mjfass · 1 year ago
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stupidmarkzone · 1 year ago
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punk after posting some terminally horny shit about mjf
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maxwelljacobfriedman · 5 months ago
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"To fall in love is to fall to one's knees." -Les Misérables
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mobiblackout · 1 year ago
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Okay, Adamjf but they are rapunzel and flynn in the Disneyverse.
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Source of the second Adamjf gif @adamjf
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neil-neil-orange-peel · 6 months ago
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Okay this is absolutely @a-a-a-anon's fault, but Vim and Sally have been on my mind the last few days:
We know Vim hates being called Alan. HATES IT. Calling him Alan may very well inspire violence. That said... what if Sally becomes the one person he'll tolerate it from? Maybe one day she calls him Alan accidentally, apologises dead casually and immediately moves on with the conversation or whatever, as you would. Meanwhile, Vim's brain has stopped working because he's in shock... that he... he actually likes it... a lot...
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