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queerweewoo · 3 months

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CRACK (TO THE HEAD) WITH A CAPITAL 'C'

(AKA The Written at 4am Buddie Crack-ish Fic Starring: Thirsty Song Lyrics, National Treasure Christopher Diaz, and Way Too Many Feels For Its Own Damn Good)

It's Friday morning, two minutes to zero-ten hundred-hours, according to Eddie's Timex Indiglo watch which is never even a half-second out, when he unlocks the door to Buck's place to drop Christopher off for his overnight stay—Chris refuses to call them sleepovers anymore because age thirteen is apparently The Number of The Beast—before Eddie will have to bail pretty sharpish to kick-off his twenty-four shift that begins at eleven.

On entering the apartment, they're met by the sound of raucous, upbeat music.

Eddie scans the loft for his friend and has to do a seriously comical double take when he catches sight of Buck, who has one hand spread palm-down on his the couch cushions, and the other behind his back as he performs shirtless one-armed wonder press-ups (with perfect fucking form, as always) to the punky beat of The Offspring's Pretty Fly For A White Guy that's currently blasting from Buck's bluetooth speaker—riiiiiight as the Give it to me baby! A-ha! A-ha! part of the song hits and the whole scene has Eddie's brain record-scratching and stopping him dead in his army issue steelies.

Dead, fucking dead, ¡Santa María, salva mi alma!

His jaw instantly drops through the floor and into the apartment below without his permission as if there are lead weights attached to his teeth, his mouth now fully hanging open and catching all the damn flies in a completely horrifying display of blatant, lust-filled shock.

Buck is breathtaking at the best of times, but right here, right now, he is heart-stoppingly unfuckingreal.

READ MORE BELOW OR HERE ON AO3

Eddie's bestie (best friend-shaped, Eddie! Eddie thinks, Buck is best friend-shaped!) is carelessly grunting like some sort of sex-machine that's been built to Eddie's exact specifications, and each grunt is louder than the last with each new, hard push upwards of Buck's swollen-thick torso, glistening sweat beading on his—well, on his absolutely fucking everything, Jesus fucking Christ on a bike, and Eddie's washing machine brain is at once stuck on an eternal spin-cycle and may well break down any second now and have him collapsing like a shabby old rag doll dressed in Eddie's Henley and Eddie's ripped jeans and falling to his now-violently shaking knees if he doesn't grab the fuck onto something, STAT.

He's about to shamefully steady himself with a hand to his son's shoulder when Christopher starts yipping like a madman then joining in with the song lyrics by positively shouting out the chorus.

“Give it to me baby! A-ha! A-ha!” he screams in a deliberate and absurd soprano, and Eddie's mind is screaming in Shut-Down, having first upgraded to an aneurysm, or at least a stroke, and he has to slap a hand over his kid's mouth, pronto, because he doesn't know what the fuck else he possibly could do at this point in the fantasy-laiden world that is currently unfolding before his probably now bloodshot eyes; nothing else he can think of to stop himself from ending up in a drooling heap that will become known as The Reduction Formally Known As Eddie Diaz's Gay Panic when he melts onto Evan Buckley's kitchen linoleum at possibly one minute to ten on a Friday afternoon in June in the year of our Lord 2024.

Eddie just barely manages to squeak out a truly pathetic, “Nope! Nuh-huh! No!” before that particular Cartoon Network-esque slapstick disaster becomes an unfathomable and inescapable reality.

Christopher obviously protests his outrage with a muffled but still impressively indignant, “Daaaad! I'm thirteen YEARS old, not thirteen MONTHS old!” just as Buck spots them both and smiles his big, adorable smile, immediately abandoning his exercises to turn the music off (oh, thank the Heavens!) and jumping up to stride over towards Christopher and Eddie to meet them where they're standing around like kitchen gremlins by the central island in Buck's kitchenette.

Sopping wet, wide-spread sweat patches are darkening the majority of Buck's once-light grey jersey short-shorts (holy crap, they are short and are leaving nothing to the imagination), those unfairly long legs of his slick and shimmering with dewy-fresh perspiration, just like the rest of his devastatingly gorgeous half-naked body, and Eddie wouldn't be joking if he regaled this moment to somebody at a later date (as if he ever would) by telling them that his entire life flashed before his eyes—because it absolutely balls to the wall no fucking shit just did.

He blinks approximately seven-hundred and thirty-three times in the less-than-four seconds it takes for Buck to reach them.

Christopher is flailing under Eddie's death-grip like a traumatised kidnap victim, while Eddie is continuing to freak the fuck out in Narnia like the crazed Closet Case that he is.

Edmundo Diaz—First Responder; Lapsed Roman Catholic—finds himself praying for a natural disaster, or an act of God, or, or, or, just... Something! Anything!

¡Por favor, Dios, por favor!

Resolute to the fact he has absolutely one-hundred percent secured his place in the very lowest circle of Hell, Eddie plasters a surely maniacal pearly-white grin onto his stupid and definitely reddening face, and says, “Howdy!” far too loudly in his thickest Texan accent for some unknown fucking reason—which is far, far louder and far, far thicker than any he ever sported while actually growing up in Texas—because he's clearly gone bat-shit fucking insane. Then he's breaking out into even more of a full-body sweat than Buck who has been working out for what is probably around the half-hour mark or more, by this point, because Sweaty Adonis Buckaroo is now right fucking there right in fucking front of Eddie so fucking close almost close enough to reach out and touch—

Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit!

And isn't this just aces?

Eddie thinks, Fuck fucking push-ups, fuck The Fucking Offspring, and fuck fucking Eddie's fucking life so fucking hard, godfuckingdammit.

Eddie is so Bucked.

Buck's smile is turning inquisitive (and somehow even more adorable) at Eddie's clear display of Buck-induced brain damage, before his baby-blues are twinkling with something... Mischievous? Cunning?

And then he's answering Eddie's dumb as shit greeting with, “Aloha, cowboy,” his brows snaking up his forehead, tongue lolling out of his mouth to rest on that sinfully pouty-pink bottom lip in a way that is the complete fucking opposite of innocent, leaving Eddie wondering if it's possible to die twice in the space of—well, ever.

(He knows all too well that it is, but he's been Bucked, remember, so how about giving his brain a break, hmm? THANK YOU SO MUCH).

Then Eddie wonders: Is this the ghost of Buck 1.0 that's come to say:

Hi, babygirl, I'm here to Buck you up good, real good, so you better hold on real tight because you're goin' downtown faster than a whore's panties, you slutty little—*GUNSHOTS*

About to possibly kick the bucket for the third time in as many minutes, Eddie realises he doesn't really know what Hawaii could possibly have to do with the Wild West (Aloha Cowboy?) but that he honestly couldn't give any amount of fucks, flying or otherwise, because unless his head has been cruelly hoodwinked with a massive serving of Wishful Thinking, he is also realising that...

That...

Buck is seriously flirting with him right now?!

He ponders briefly over how hard he actually hit his head when he'd banged it into the doorframe of his truck, maybe five minutes earlier when grabbing Christopher's crutches from the backseat just after they'd arrived.

Eddie then notices Christopher's teenage Smirky McSmirkerson features in his periphery (Chris had managed to prize Eddie's numb hand from his face a moment ago) and also the way his son's own head is snapping between his now fully-loco father and his Buck, and Eddie thinks of tennis matches, and flying pigs, and how stiflingly hot it seems to have become in the loft in the last thirty or so seconds.

Then Buck is licking at those lovely lips of his, turning to Christopher and saying, “What do you say we go out on a breakfast date on Sunday morning, after your Dad has slept a bunch, huh Christopher?”

Only, when he says the word 'date', Eddie doesn't think he's imagining the way Buck's eyes flicker pointedly in Eddie's exact direction.

“Because I'm off the whole weekend,” he continues, “so the three of us could drive the jeep out of town and I could buy you both giant syrupy waffles with maple bacon and Horchata milkshakes from Fosselman's and then... And then we can go visit the the Greek Theatre, and then maybe Griffith Observatory later on in the evening, when the stars come out, and we'll hold hands,”—again, his eyes bore longingly into Eddie's for a split-second that feels like a lived lifetime—“all three of us, like we used to when you were tiny, Chris, you remember that? And it'll be the best day that we've ever, ever had together, I absolutely know it.”

Buck is looking at Eddie again, only Buck isn't looking away this time and Eddie is almost positive that his eyes are screaming: Yes, Eds! Yes, I want you, too, man! So let's do this!

“Ew, no way,” Christopher instantaneously complains—before he's quickly backtracking and amending his statement with, “To the hand-holding, I mean. The rest sounds pretty good, though, Buck. What do you think, Dad?” and he even manages to sound marginally appreciative at the tail end—appreciative for a sharp, snarky teenager, that is.

Christopher then fully turns to Eddie (Eddie who's body is now sans soul) and says, “Can we really have waffles and milkshakes for breakfast Dad? Can we? Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease don't be a major Joy Assassin and say 'It's not a proper meal if there's no vitamins involved, Mijo', because it'll be a Sunday, and it sounds so awesome, like the rest of the day does, too, actually. And you love Buck, Dad, so maybe just you and him can be sappy Sallys and hold hands and be all gross together, and I'll secretly snap your picture when you're mooning at Buck with heart-eyes, like you always do, and Buck will give you heart-eyes back, like he always does, too, except this time you can both do it while you're actually looking at each other, and then I'll send the photo to Aunt Maddie and Uncle Chim who can maybe finally convince you two to move in together and get married like I've been trying to get them to for years, now!”

Eddie doesn't know where the hell the kid got the breath from for all those truths.

Because that's what that was; Eddie's truth, all of it.

But was it really Buck's truth, too?

Like they're rehearsing in a play based on their lives, Buck, on cue, lets out a really happy-sounding gasp that quickly morphs into a happy-sounding laugh, and Eddie bottle-rockets right out of the fucking apartment and off into the fucking stratosphere.

He is very much back in the room, though, when Christopher takes his hand to gracelessly slam-join it with Buck's, which is calloused like his own due to the life-saving work they proudly tackle together day-to-day—always together, every day they can be, always, partners in everything they do—and Buck's hand is big, and warm, too, and all kinds of wonderful, and then Eddie is not only thinking about all the skin and the hot and the sweaty and the gorgeous, but also about how Buck has saved Eddie's life, so many times, now, and saved him in so many different ways from practically the first week he and Chris spent in LA after leaving El Paso, has saved him in every way possible, actually, every which way under the sun and the moon and the stars, even the ones they can't see from Griffith Observatory. And even though Buck has just murdered Eddie twice already this morning in the silly-short space of time he and Christopher have been here, with his push-up grunts and sexy-swagger and his 'Aloha, Cowboy' (whatever the fuck that even means) and, most of all, above everything else, Buck's Over Nine-Thousand level of Adorability, Buck's boundless generosity and kindness, Buck's inherently thoughtful nature, and Buck's twelve-sizes-too-big heart, he is saving Eddie again with the way he's letting Eddie Eddie love, love, love him.

And the fact that he is taking care of Eddie's son today, tonight, is absolutely everything to Eddie. Buck is Christopher's Buck, Christopher's hero, and he's Eddie's hero, as well, and Eddie wants to claim him as Eddie's Buck, too, because Buck thinks Christopher is awesome and always genuinely looks forward to looking after him, to loving him all of the time, just like Eddie loves Chris, and like Eddie loves Buck because Buck cares about Christopher just as much as Eddie does, and Eddie knows—he knows without a shadow of a doubt—that Buck's love for the boy they're raising together is a type of love that no other person, bar Shannon, has had for him, for them, before or ever will again.

There is nobody else like Buck in the universe.

Nobody cares or loves like Evan Buckley, or more than Evan Buckley, and being on the receiving end of that love is worth more than solid gold, or oxygen, or even spicy pepperoni pizza and a cold one after pulling a gruelling shift as a Firefighter on the never-sleeping streets of Los Angeles, CA.

And then just like that, Eddie is able to put a timely yet abrupt stop to any and all of his panic (gay or otherwise) because there isn't a shred of anxiety left inside of him, now, not about this, at least, because he knows he's got nothing whatsoever to be scared of with Buck.

So addressing his son (their son, really) Eddie nods his head emphatically and tells his boy, “Yeah, Chris, that does sound awesome; Waffles and milkshakes and all of it,” and then squeezes the hand in his, Buck's hand, and leans over Buck's kitchen counter and says easily, “I love you, Buck—I mean, I'd love to, Buck! Shit—”

“Swearbox!” Christopher chides smugly.

Eddie pulls a face at his slip-up and at his son, then clears his throat and continues a little sheepishly with, “But, um,” before looking up to remind himself of that adoring that look Buck is giving him, and then saying more decisively,“ But yeah, that other thing, too, actually, because yeah, yes, you know I love you, Buck... At least, I hope you know it,” and then he huffs a little laugh as he adamantly says, “I love you, Evan Buckley,” and thinks 'In for a penny' and strains his neck to reach across and kiss Buck shyly on the cheek.

Only his aim is a little off and he ends up planting a kinda sloppy one right on the corner of Buck's slightly parted lips, but it turns out he's glad about it and is even sort of proud that he misjudged the angle and got to feel Buck's unabashed smile against his own upturned lips, because he's wanted to do that ever since he first laid eyes on the man standing in front of him who is radiating the sun's rays out of his very core, as if he actually owns them and the sun only has them on a loner for sunny days.

Buck is smiling like he's just won the World Series—which is funny because Eddie has just won the Being Gay With a Capital 'G' award, and that means they are both Imaginary Winning Title holders, now.

Except no, fuck that, because Eddie's win isn't imaginary at all, it is very much a beautiful and viscerally Real win, actually.

Real with a capital R, muchas gracias.

Apparently, all Buck has to say about all of this right now is, “Okay, alright, you get your fine ass to work now, Eddie Spaghetti, and Christopher and I will see you on the flipside for sleep and cuddles and, and, and a Real with a capital R adventure on Sunday,” and Eddie is looking at the universe sideways for the first time in the entirety of his non-believing life. “Oh and by the way, honey—and I am so calling you honey from now on, also by the way, just so you know—I absolutely one-hundred percent, honey,” he pauses for second and and winces a bit, “Christopher I will also be adding to the Swearbox for this one... Love the shit outta you too, Edmundo Diaz.”

Christopher just claps and laughs and laughs and claps and then shouts, “My two Dads love each other, universe, did you hear that?!”

Somehow managing to smile even bigger than he was a moment ago, Buck then lightly grabs the now half wolf-whistling, half dry-retching thirteen-year-old matchmaking genius who goes by Christopher Diaz, in a loose headlock and starts scrubbing gentle knuckles through his curls, before literally kicking the happiest man on the whole damn planet out of his apartment with a ridiculously big and adorably bare foot.

“Go! You'll be late! We'll see you tomorrow, honey.”

Eddie (said happiest man on the whole damn planet) waits until Buck's door has closed behind him and then till the elevator door has slid open and shut again before fist-pumping the air like the dorky First Place In The Game of Life winner that he is, smiling what is likely his biggest smile since his darling Christopher came into this world.

Then he pulls out his tongue at nobody at all and thinks, Fuck you, first place is first place; dork or not.

As he leaves Buck's building, he also thinks, I'll have to crack my head on random shit more often, joking with himself and chuckling like a prize idiot as he crosses the side road towards his truck.

Then he's immediately cursing himself out with every swear words he knows, in both English and Spanish, for somehow allowing himself to be pulled into Buck's nonsensical woo-woo Cosmic Universe bullshit.

Vida, vida, vida.

Although...

Maybe—just maybe—he could forgive the slip, just this one time, just this once, when he recognises his chuckle as the being the very same, gloriously happy-sounding laughter that Eddie had unbelievably managed to pull from the chest of the best man he's ever known (who also happens to be the hottest man in the whole frickin universe; cosmic or otherwise).

It's the man Eddie has loved for years who—apparently, amazingly—loves Eddie right back.

Evan 'Buck' Buckley.

Christopher's Buck. Eddie's Buck.

And when he's climbing into his truck and inexplicably clocks his head on the doorframe again, for the second time today (seriously, what the actual fuck is going on here?), Eddie looks around suspiciously and surreptitiously before taking a minute to peer hesitantly up at the sky-blue sky and its cotton-candy clouds and the hot, hot sun with its borrowed rays, out into the universe, or to God, or who—or what—ever is or isn't out there, before finding himself about to mutter a few choice incredulous words from under his breath.

He takes a gulp of air, and says, “Yeah, okay, muchas gracias, oh cosmic powers that be, yada yada et cetera et cetera, if you do in fact exist, not that I really think you do,” whispering the statement and feeling like a first class clown, “But, just in case?” Eddie swallows the lump in his throat and soldiers on. “Just in case, here it is: Yes, I obviously wholeheartedly appreciate whatever it was you might or might not have done for me back there, like, I really, honestly, seriously, do, but just—will you just please do me a solid and...” Eddie can't believe he's thinking this, let alone saying (albeit whispering) it for realsies, “...don't let Buck or Christopher or Hen or Karen or Chim or Maddie or Bobby or Athena or Ravi or, hell, any other fucker on the planet know that I actually said any of this phooey out loud, alright? Not ever. Or Santa Mierda, I will seriously come for you like a rabid Nordic Goat Herder on a mixture of bath salts and crack cocaine and crazy because I would never, ever be able to live this shit down if it got out. ¿Entiendes?”

Completely fucking done with that, Eddie starts up the engine and pulls out of his parking space outside of Buck's building, while annoyingly hoping that the universe understands at least a smidgen of Spanish, and begins the first day of the rest of his life, mumble-humming a not entirely unenthusiastic tune...

“Give it to me baby! A-ha! A-ha!”

(this had barely one skim-over edit so please be kind!)

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thatliminal-wanderer · 6 months

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Oliver Swift (Dialtown) ID Pack

Request by 🎉🤩 anon

Names

Akira, Alecto, Alejandro, Alfonso, Alfred, Alula, Amanda, Amy, Annabelle, Autumn, Beau, Blair, Bogart, Brooks, Buster, Caddy, Cameron, Cass, Champ, Charles, Christopher, Damien, David, Dover, Elizabeth, Frank, Giglioli, Heather, Humphrey, Issie, James, Jason, Jennifer, Jessica, Jett, John, Joseph, Joshua, Jules, Keaton, Kelly, Kerit, Lee, Lusca, Mason, Matthew, Mel, Melissa, Micheal, Michelle, Moa, Nessie, Nicole, Poe, Robert, Salem, Sarah, Sloane, Steller, Twist, Vesper, Yarri, Zana

Pronouns

big/foot/bigfoots, boo/boos, bun/yip/bunyips, cass/cassette/cassettes, crypt/cryptid/cryptids, dae/daem, film/films, fres/fresno/fresnos, ghost/ghosts, hunt/hunts, krak/kraken/krakens, mon/monster/monsters, movie/movies, neon/neons, ness/nessie/nessies, nostal/nostalgia/nostalgias, rad/radical/radicals, retro/retros, star/stars, static/statics, thrill/thrills, yeti/yetis

Titles

The Cryptid Lover, The Horror Movie Maker, The One Who Is Mentally in The 80s, The One Who Makes Movies By [prn]self, The One Who Records The Unknown, The One With a Video Camera, The Radical Movie Producer, The Self Proclaimed Radical One, The [Friend/Lover] of Cryptids, [prn] Which Hunt The Unknown, [prn] Who Loves The 1980s, [prn] Who Loves The 80s, [prn] Who Runs The Haunted House

Genders

Arcadecoric, Arcadegender, Beigecoloric, Buriedgaysic, Cryptidcute, Einigholonostalaesic, Evrender, Foundfootagehorroric, Genderlog, Hallonostic, Indiemovic, Lexeradicalic/Radicallexic, Mothmancomfic, Mothmancryptic, Moviverhypia/Moviverlovia, Nolsgender/Pixigender, Olivercharic, Oliverswifttransgender/Oliverswiftgaygender, Ravesk8ic, Slashertix, Weirdkidpartyic

Other mogai

Cryptidacademiaestelic, Cryptidcoreaestelic, Horrormoviestelic, Oliverswiftstelic

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snowywolf1005 · 1 year

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SHANKS X BLACK READER

Hello everyone, before I start. I'm gonna put a song. It will sound like shanks x black reader the first I made that you couldn't rid of shanks from falling in love with you, I hope you enjoy. Gave me some headcanons' comments below. THANK YOU !!!!!!

You are pruple

Shanks is red

Please just take the mixed bouquet and leave, just leave!!!

Y/n!

I will never let you let me leave

I promise I'm not lying

Go ahead ask anybody who has seen me trying

I'm not going, if it seems like I did

I'm probably waiting outside

Such a stubborn man you'll likely never meet another

When we have our family dinner, you can ask my mother

She's the best, you'll learn more about her on our family history testI'm gonna do this right

Show you I'm not moving

Wherever you go, I won't be far to follow

Oh, I'm gonna love you so

You'll learn what I already know

I love you, means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me You can try, oh, but I

I love you, means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me

Ready for your check?

Not quite, pie for everybody!!!!

What?!

I grew up an only child in the suburb of the city

Spent my days alone my only friend was a stray kitty called Sardine

I thought it was hilarious to call a cat a kind of fish

She played hard to get hissing while she scratched me

What she was trying to say was "Ogie come and catch me"

I learned quickly that perseverance stood between a cat and her new best friend, me!!

Oh, I'm gonna do this right

Show you I'm not moving

Wherever you go, I won't be far to follow

Oh, I'm gonna love you so

You'll learn what I already know

I love you, means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me!!

When you say never

You can try, oh, but I

Your friend is the orange one, sorry

I love you, means blah blah blah yip yap yap yap now get back to work!

I can try, but I

I love you, means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me!!!!

THE END

#shanks x you #shanks x black reader #one piece shanks #one piece shanks x reader #one piece x black!reader #one piece x reader #Spotify

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bossloveshipper · 4 months

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Bosslove songs

And the bosslove song of the day is...

Lyrics:

I will never let you let me leave

I promise I'm not lying

Go ahead ask anybody who has seen me trying

I'm not going, if it seems like I did

I'm probably waiting outside

Such a stubborn man you'll likely never meet another

When we have our family dinner you can ask my mother

She's the best, you'll learn more about her on our family history test

I'm gonna do this right

Show you I'm not moving

Wherever you go, I won't be far to follow

Oh, I'm gonna love you so

You'll learn what I already know

I love you means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me

You can try, oh, but I

I love you means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me

Ready for your check?

Not quite, pie for everybody

What?!

I grew up an only child in the suburb of the city

Spent my days alone my only friend was a stray kitty called Sardine

I thought it was hilarious to call a cat a kind of fish

She played hard to get hissing while she scratched me

What she was trying to say was "Ogie come and catch me"

I learned quickly, that perseverance stood between a cat and her new best friend, me

Oh, I'm gonna do this right

Show you I'm not moving

Wherever you go, I won't be far to follow

Oh, I'm gonna love you so

You'll learn what I already know

I love you means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me

When you say never

You can try, oh, but I

I love you means blah blah blah yip yap yap yap now get back to work!

I can try, but I

I love you means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me

Analysis:

I can totally imagine the Henchman dedicating this to his beloved boss no matter how grumpy or evil he is 😅

#bosslove #shipdynamic #bossloveshipper #bosslovesongs #never ever getting rid of me

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juarezesdeporte · 27 days

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ES UN EJEMPLO A SEGUIR!!

Paris, Francia, sábado 31 de agosto de 2024.-¡Plata para México en Paralímpicos! Haidee Aceves suma segunda presea

Haidee Viviana Aceves Pérez (23 de marzo de 1993), originaria de Guadalajara, volvió a conquistar una medalla de plata, la segunda para México en los Paralímpicos, luego de quedar segunda en los 50 metros dorso – S2, que se desarrolló en Paris La Defense Arena.

Haidee Aceves logró la medalla de plata con un tiempo de 1:08.96, quedándose a +2.97 de Pin Xiu Yip de Singapur con 1.05.99.

Hace un par de días, Haidee Aceves le dio la primera medalla de plata a México en los Paralímpicos, cuando quedó segunda en los 100 metros dorso S2.

A Haidee Aceves le queda la prueba de los 100 metros libres.

Por su parte, Fabiola Ramírez Martínez (19 de enero de 1990), originaria de Aguascalientes, acabó la prueba de los 50 metros dorso – S2 en el sexto lugar, con un tiempo de 1:12.30.

Para Fabiola Martínez termina su participación en París. Finalizó sexta en los 100 metros dorso.

RESULTADOS DE MEXICANOS EN LOS 50 METROS DORSO EN PARALÍMPICOS:

Christopher Gregorio Tronco Sánchez (17 de noviembre de 1985), originario de la Ciudad de México, finalizó en la quinta posición de los 50 metros dorso – S2, con un tiempo de 1:04.15.

Christopher Tronco también competirá en los 200 metros estilo libre S2 y en los 50 metros pecho SB2. En los 100 metros dorso se ubicó en la quinta posición.

Por su parte, Jesús Rey López Cervantes (6 de enero de 1991) se ubicó en la octava posición de los 50 metros dorso – S2, con un crono de 1:08.56.

A Jesús López solo le queda la prueba 200 metros estilo libre S2. En los 100 metros dorso finalizó en la octava posición.

La medalla de oro de los 50 metros dorso fue para el brasileño Gabriel Geraldo dos Santos Araujo con un tiempo de 50.93, lo que significó un Récord de las Américas.

(Por Arturo López/Excelsior)-.66

- TE PUEDE INTERESAR: Así queda la parrilla de salida del GP de Italia 2024 de la F1

#internacional

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cj-the-himbo · 3 months

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NEW INTRO POST RAHHH

HELLO

My name’s Christopher Jethro, but everyone calls me CJ! I’m 20 years old and I do the art some of the time. I am of Celtic descent, that being Irish and Welsh, and I unfortunately live in the states BUT I plan to move to Amsterdam once I graduate from college :3

Pronouns >:3

- He/him/his/himself

- They/them/theirs/themself

- She/her/hers/herself

- Yip/yips/yipself

- Plant/plants/plantself

- 🌿/🌿s/🌿self

- ☘️/☘️s/☘️self

- 🌱/🌱s/🌱self

- 🐞/🐞s/🐞self

- 🐜/🐜s/🐜self

- 🍃/🍃s/🍃self

- 🪴/🪴s/🪴self

I am professionally diagnosed with autism, and highly suspect that I may have ADHD, as well as PCOS and an iron deficiency(yayyy)

I hoard xenogenders!! I currently have 200+ and I will definitely add more in the future. I’m a gender anarchist as well, DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT! As an umbrella term I refer to myself as genderqueer, and my sexuality is unlabeled, which I’m proud of but that also means I have the ugliest pride flag EVER.

MOVING ON.

RELIGION

Technically I’m agnostic, but I am on the cusp between learning and practicing witchcraft while analyzing the FUCK out of the Bible. I partake in Pagan rituals like the Sabbats and still maintain my Book of Shadows mainly because it’s my heritage. But again, technically agnostic, because while I have doubts about the existence of a literal, sentient higher power I still feel like there’s definitely something going on. I still fw Abrahamic Mythology tho bc special interest go brrr

FANDOMS RAHHHH

I POST SUPER 4. KIND OF A LOT. In fact most of my followers followed me because of that. BUT I ALSO DABBLE IN OTHERS AND I WILL NOT REMEMBER THEM ALL IF I LIST THEM BUT JUST TO LIST A FEW:

- Sweet Tooth on Netflix(SEVERELY UNDERRATED)

- TMNT (specifically 2012 but i do dabble in Rise a bit too)

- RWBY

- FNAF

- Steven Universe

- TOH

- Hellaverse I guess!

- TADC

- Starkid

- MLP

- Good Omens(FUCK NEIL GAIMAN)

- OTHERS I’M PROBABLY FORGETTING BUT WILL ADD AS THEY COME TO ME

BYF

- I AM A QUEER INCLUSIONIST AND GENDER ANARCHIST, WHICH MEANS I SUPPORT LESBOYS, MSPEC LESBIANS, XENOGENDERS AND OTHER “CONTRADICTORY/UNCONVENTIONAL” IDENTITIES. THAT IS THE WHOLE POINT OF BEING QUEER.

- I am a kemenomimi, which is part of the furry community. As such, I support furries as well.

- On that note I also support Therians and Otherkin! You guys are freaking cool!

- I do not have DID, but my history as a transmed has made me extremely against gatekeeping or fakeclaiming of any kind unless there is undeniable proof. As such, I support ALL system types. This is a safe space for endos!

- I SUPPORT A FREE PALESTINE. 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉 I WILL NEVER STOP.

DNI

- Basic criteria: Racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, xenophobic, islamophobic, antisemetic, Zionist, etc

- TERFs, SWERFs, transmeds, or any exclusionary activism. This means exclusionary queers too.

- Swifties.

- Anyone under 15, 16-18 is THIN ICE.

SOMETHING SOMETHING SEGUE

If you want a good idea of my sense of humor just look at Viva Reverie’s bits on Bronies React and John Mulaney. That’s basically it

OK BYE ENJOY THE VERY NOT WELL PUT TOGETHER BLOG

OTHER SOCIALS

TikTok: @christopher_jethro and @cjs_mogai_stash

Insta: @cj_is_very_handsome

Airbuds(shows u what music I’m listening to n stuff :P): @cj.2004

#intro post #don’t follow that last link idk who that is on here #tags r weird

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deadlinecom · 1 year

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timesothercompany · 3 years

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“The Asian diasporic experience is longing.”

This film review by Christopher Yip touched my soul. The Asian diasporic experience feels like a lot of things you just can’t put into words because you’ve been separated from your language, cultural identity, and family.

Lately, I have been sitting with the discomfort of (be)longing. If the one who left his backyard didn’t have ambition or greed or a curiosity for the world or a sense of entitlement, if West didn’t seek out the East, I wouldn’t exist as I do today. That larger set of circumstances has its own version of longing. It led to smaller, tumbling events of love and encounter and difference.

When the pandemic started, I travelled to the past with my father. At first, asking him questions about (be)longing felt like an invasion of sorts. I wondered how he would feel letting me into the territory of his memory and I crossed there on unsure footing.

#asian diaspora #christopher yip

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more-gremlin-than-fae · 4 years

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What my car audio system thinks Harrow the Ninth is like.

What Harrow the Ninth is actually like

#harrow would be so offended to be classified as girlpop #harrow the ninth #harrow nonagesimus #second is three from unsplash layered together #thanks to #leonardo yip #gabor molnar #christopher campbell

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mrslackles · 5 years

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yep, yep, yep. beth's worst crime. i hated that but didn't say anything because i have a limit on how many times i can be called a sexist, manny-thirsting misogynist in a month. and if you think beth can do wrong wih certain stans, don't even try talking at all about the performer.

Bahahahaha, The Manny-Thirsting Misogynists -- we should start a band.

This will be our logo (yes, our logo is a gif). We meet every week after the Beanie Support Group. We perform to earn money for life insurance so we can feel free to utter a word about certain performers.

#yip Anon #I know #also where's my Christopher Kowalski Anon at #We Need To Talk #the conspiracy is now realer than ever #Anonymous

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sunkentreasurecove · 5 years

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#Happy!#Grant Morrison #Darick Robertson #tv #series #Brian Taylor #David Petrarca #Wayne Yip #Christopher Meloni

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ljones41 · 4 years

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"A VIEW TO A KILL" (1985) Review

"A VIEW TO A KILL" Review The year 1985 marked a milestone in the history of the Bond franchise. This was the year in which EON Productions released their latest Bond film, "A VIEW TO A KILL". The movie would turn out to be Roger Moore's last turn as the British agent, James Bond. With this movie, Moore would become the only actor who has portrayed Bond for EON Productions more than any other - seven times. Sean Connery would also portray Bond seven times, but his last effort would not be for EON Productions.

But this review is not about Moore's tenure as James Bond. It is about his last movie - namely "A VIEW TO A KILL". The franchise's 14th installment is not what I would call a remarkable film. But I do not consider it a travesty like many other Bond fans do. On the whole, it struck me as a slight remake of the 1964 film, "GOLDFINGER" in regard to one scene and the villain's objective. In "GOLDFINGER", the villain's objective was to destroy the U.S. gold reserve at Fort Knox with a nuclear bomb in order to drive up the value of his own supply of gold. In "A VIEW TO A KILL", the villain's objective was to destroy the U.S. dominant control of the microchip market by causing a "natural disaster" in Silicon Valley. Both movies also feature scenes in which the villain reveals his scheme to potential "investors". But whereas "GOLDFINGER" created a major plot hole in its version of this particular scene, "A VIEW TO A KILL" managed to avoid one. Bond's discovery of a microchip on the body of the dead Agent 003 in Siberia leads to MI-6's investigation of an industrialist named Max Zorin, who now owns the very company that the British government and military have contracts. Bond's investigation leads to his introduction of certain individuals - a former Nazi criminal/scientist named Carl Mortner, an oil geologist named Conley and the movie's leading lady, whose name is Stacy Sutton. In a nutshell, these three characters - especially Sutton - allowed Bond to discover Zorin's past as a KGB agent, his betrayal of his bosses, and his plot to destroy Silicon Valley. Michael G. Wilson and Richard Maibaum's screenplay is not very original, considering its strong similarity to "GOLDFINGER". Fortunately for "A VIEW TO A KILL", director John Glen did what he could with Wilson and Maibaum’s screenplay and did a commendable job in avoiding the major mistakes of the 1964 film. Granted, the movie’s portrayal of the San Francisco Police seemed straight out of the Keystone Cops. Nor I did not care for the writers’ attempt to keep Stacy in the story by allowing her character to reveal the details of Zorin’s plot. It seemed to be stretching things a bit. But in the end, I rather liked the story. And I liked Glen’s direction. I believe that he did better with movies like "FOR YOUR EYES ONLY", "OCTOPUSSY”, "THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS" and even "LICENSE TO KILL". But at least I have nothing major to complain about. The cast’s performance seemed to be pretty solid. The only complaint I have of Roger Moore is that in certain scenes, he looked a little too old and tired to be portraying Bond. Some fans would attribute this to his age (he was 57 when he shot the movie). But from what I had learned, Moore had been suffering from the flu at the time. However, there were scenes in which he looked like a handsome, middle-aged man. Despite his illness, Moore managed to turn in a good performance that had not been marred by the occasional silly joke, as it had in "OCTOPUSSY". Aside from the silly Beach Boys moment and the movie's final scene, the humor in "A VIEW TO A KILL" seemed more restrained and tasteful. Ironically, three of Moore’s best moments featured both humor – which featured Bond’s impersonation as a spoiled and demanding playboy and his reunion with KGB agent Pola Ivanova (Fiona Fullerton) - and also drama – his dislike of Zorin apparent, following the murder of Mr. Howe (Daniel Benzali) of the Department of Conservation. I would never regard Tanya Roberts ("CHARLIE’S ANGELS"/"THAT 70s SHOW") to be a great actress. But I cannot deny that she gave a solid performance as Stacy Sutton, the California State geologist, whose oil company Zorin wanted to buy. But she did have her moments of wooden acting. Fortunately for Roberts, she can at least claim to be a better actress than either Barbara Bach or Lois Chiles. And despite her acting limitations, she managed to inject a great deal of spirit and moxie into the Stacy character. Oscar winner Christopher Walker, on the other hand, was great. I loved his slightly off-kilter portrayal of the greedy and psychotic Max Zorin – former KBG agent-turned-entrepreneur and industrialist. And considering that Walken was portraying a psychotic, it is a credit to his skills as an actor that he did not ham it up for the screen. He even managed to provide some great moments. But my favorite Walken moment featured Zorin’s reaction to his discovery that Bond’s true identity. And of course there is Grace Jones as Zorin’s equally psychotic henchwoman, May Day. Perhaps she was not as psychotic, considering she was able to mourn the deaths of her two female assistants (Alison Doody and Papillon Soo Soo). But like Walken, she brought a lot of style and verve to her role without going over the top. And for an exhibitionist like Jones, it was a miracle. The regular Bond cast seemed to be their solid selves. I especially enjoyed Moore’s last on-screen interaction with Lois Maxwell (Miss Moneypenny). However, I must confess that the movie’s last scene of Q (Desmond Llewelyn) using a remote controlled "rover" to peep into Bond and Stacy’s shower activities at the end of the movie struck me as distasteful. Included among Bond’s allies is Patrick Macnee, portraying Sir Godfrey Tibbett. Tibbett is a gentleman horse breeder who helps MI-6 investigates the mystery of Zorin’s success on the racetrack (microchips imbedded in the horses’ flesh). Macnee (the fourth ”AVENGERS” cast member to appear in a Bond film) gave a very competent and classy performance and seemed to have produced a good screen chemistry with Moore. It seemed a shame that he was only present in the movie’s first half. Cinematographer Alan Hume did a great job in taking advantage of the elegant settings of Paris, the French countryside and surprisingly, San Francisco. In fact, I believe that ”A VIEW TO A KILL” marked one of those rare times in a Bond movie in which the U.S. locations actually looked tasteful or interesting. I am usually not a fan of Duran Duran, but I must admit that I am a fan of their rendition of the movie’s theme song – "A View to a Kill" (written by Duran Duran and John Barry). I am not surprised that the song ended up second place on the U.K. pop charts and at the top of the charts in the U.S. "A VIEW TO A KILL” will never be considered a top favorite of mine. Aside from the cinematography, the theme song by Duran Duran and Christopher Walken’s performance, there is nothing really remarkable about it. Many Bond fans consider it a travesty that Moore had to end his tenure on such a low. I personally do not regard "A VIEW TO A KILL" as a low note for Moore. In fact, I feel that he was lucky to end his tenure with a good, solid action film of which he had nothing to feel ashamed.

R.I.P. Tanya Roberts (1955-2021)

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lokissuper · 3 years

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A Keeper| Negan x Reader

Summary: On a day away from the Sanctuary, the reader meets a new friend.

I’ve always wanted to read something for Negan where the reader calls him a nickname, specifically Negs/Neags. So I just wrote it, this is a really slow fic.

I wasn’t supposed to go outside the Sanctuary, ever since I got injured on a run a few months ago. I just had to get out of there for a while, sometimes Negan can get protective and I love him but I need to be my own person.

I snuck past the guards goofing of as per usual, thinking that Negan and I were still sleeping. It was dawn, I knew it would be easier to get by the guards then because they just rotated. So when I saw that they were leaving I sprinted out of the Sanctuary. I knew I would be dealing with some consequences when I first get back but I knew Negan would forgive me, as long as I come back uninjured.

When I was finally far enough away I stopped running and caught my breath. I took out my machete to be ready for any dead pricks that come my way. I also took out my canteen from my backpack and took a sip of my water. Putting it back in my bag I stood up ad started walking, breathing in the fresh air. I knew there was a small town nearby that the Saviors had already cleared, so I headed towards there.

I hadn’t been in the woods for a while, always going on supply runs with Negan we would take roads with the trucks. I always liked taking walks and it was even better to be outside in the woods.

Nearing the town, I was on the look out for any walkers in stores or behind abandoned cars. Strolling through the town just trying to find something to do, I heard groaning coming from one of the alleys. I quietly walked towards the alley where the moans were coming from and held my machete ready. I neared the corner and peaked around it, my heart sank to my stomach. There sat a walker munching on a lone dog, running up behind the walker I brought my machete through its skull, over and over again. Once it dropped to the ground I looked over to the pup laying in front of me. It reminded me too much of my dog, Pooh that passed before this zombie take over. I looked down at the poor thing and put it out of its misery, I heard a low whine a few feet from me. I looked over and saw a retriever pup sitting behind a dumpster, I looked back down at the body of the other dog and realized that this dog had a puppy.

I slowly stepped over to the small animal. “It’s okay, I got you baby,” I whispered, picking up the golden dog. The dogs rare blue eyes stared at me and licked my cheek. “Damn, your breath stinks,” I spoke to the puppy. I thought it was a good time to make it back to the Sanctuary, earlier then I wanted but this little guy needed to be someplace safe. So I turned around and walked back out of the alley, holding the puppy close to my chest.

Making my way back through the woods and walking to the front gates of home. I had only now realized I had been gone for about two and a half hours, I blushed to myself only thinking of what I might be walking into. I looked up to the guard tower, I saw that Dwight was staring down at me with wide eyes. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I heard him yell. He walked down to the gate and opened it, I walked through but he stopped me before I came in, “Mutt stays outside.”

“Over my dead body.” I responded. He looked at my frustrated and rolled his eyes. He opened his arms beckoning me inside.

“You know he’s been running around like a chicken with his head cut off. He sent two search parties for you, and even went out there himself. That was stupid to leave, he thinks your dead right now. But no, you come back with some whimpering dog.” Dwight ranted to me. I stared at him in the eyes for a moment before reaching into his pocket and grabbing his walkie talkie. I pressed down on the button and spoke into it, “ I am at the front gate baby, nothing bad happened.” I handed the device back over to Simon before he spoke into it too,”She’s got a mutt with her boss, she knows the rules about pets.” I rolled my eyes at him, does he forget that I’m dating the “boss”.

I heard Negan speak through the other end, “I’ll be there soon, don’t let her leave again.”

I walked over to the door to get into the building and sat down by it, with the puppy in my lap. I looked down at him, “I should really name you, don’t want you to be nameless, do we?” I giggled as the little boy tilted his golden head.

I though over a few names in my head, laughing over the first few that came to mind. Thinking of some of the names I had for my old dog, reminding me of my Pooh Bear.

I looked down at the creature,“Tigger? Robin like Christopher Robin? Or maybe Piglet?” I snorted at the last one.

I heard a grunt in front of me, I looked up locking eyes with the love of my life. “Oh little pig, little pig,” Negan said to me, “Hi darlin’, now what do we have here?” I laughed and nodded towards him, then nodded towards the door.

“Can we go inside? I don’t want to do this out here, and Piglet needs water.” I whispered to him.

He nods, walking over to me and helps me stand up. I followed him inside cuddling into Piglet, Negan slows his pace so he could walk next to me. I felt his hand go to my waist, we walked to our room and he set Lucille by the door before closing it. I set Piglet on the ground and go into the bathroom to fill up a small bowl with water, avoiding looking at the two eyes following me around the room. Setting the bowl down in front of Piglet, I nudged him towards it to which he galloped to and just about drowned himself drinking it.

“So did you go out there because of this little guy? Or were you trying to run away? If you were trying to run away, please tell me why. I thought we had something good here, for shit’s sake I love you so much. When I woke up this morning and saw that you weren’t there, I thought someone came in during the night and took you or you just left me. So just please, tell me why?” he spoke quietly and desperately.

I looked up at him with sad eyes and stood, walking over to him. I put my hands on his chest moving them up and around his neck, I leaned my head on his chest, “ I would never leave you, I just needed some time to myself for a little bit. I’ve been in this room for two months because I was stabbed in the leg, I knew you wouldn’t let me. I know your protective over me and I love you for it, but some fresh air was nice. It just so happened I came across this little man and his momma.” I took a step back and looked down,” His Mom was being eaten by one of those biters, I had to kill the monstrosity and Pigs mommy. Negs it was horrible, I know I needed to put her out of her misery but I hate myself for it.” I started to tear up, I felt his hands go to my waist and he brings me into his chest again.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I wish you didn’t have to do that.” Negan whispered in my ear.

I felt a nudge down at my feet, I smiled and looked down seeing Piglet wagging his tail. I looked up at Negan and pressed my lips to his, and he smiled into the kiss. My arms were around his neck quickly and his just wrapped tighter around my waist. He swiped his tongue across my lip and I opened up my mouth further, he shoved his tongue into my mouth. I moaned into the kiss and he separated himself from me. Groaning and staring at him in eyes, he chuckled at my reaction.

He leaned down again inches from my face, “ I wanna marry you. When I first saw you I got rid of all my wives, knowing that you were what I needed to be who I was again. I love you so much.”

“I love you too and I want to be your wife, I wanna be with you forever Negs,” I smiled up at him.

I heard a yip from bellow us and I giggled, looking down at Piglet. I reached down and picked him up, bringing him in between me and my now fiance.

I pressed my lips to Negan’s again, pulling away I smiled,” Looks like I got two keepers now. You got some competition.”

Negan reached for Piglet and put him on the ground, he then grabbed my legs lifting them up. Putting my legs around his hips, he moved us to the bed saying,”We’ll see about that.”

#negan x reader #here's negan #negan x y/n #negan #negan imagine #negan smut #twd #the walking dead #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #lucille #negan edit #negan one shot #negan angst #negan fluff #negan fic #negan fanfiction

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