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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year ago

Text

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version)

pairing: professor/mentor!miguel o’hara x graduate assistant!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4.5k

summary:

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man.

But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

author's note:

my first (but probably not my last) miguel o'hara fic based on taylor swift's song "i can see you" from speak now tv. if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or commenting and letting me know your thoughts!

content warnings/tags:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - no powers, age gap (undefined), presence of power dynamics (teacher/student), author took scientific liberties (forgive her, its been 10 years since bio II lab), pineapple on pizza, potentially bad spanish translations, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), miguel picking reader up, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, pet names, praise kink, competency kink, dirty talk. let me know if i've missed anything!

Translations you may need:

Universidad Estatal de Nueva York - State University of New York

Sí - Yes

Dios mío - My god

El Origen de la Genética Mutante - The Origen of Mutant Genetics

Mierda - Shit

Te lo prometo - I promise you

Lo juro por Dios - I swear to god

Arañita - little spider

Cállate - be quiet

Mirame - look at me

te sientes tan bien - you feel so good

Perfecto - perfect

________

You’re sitting in the front row, in the seat you’ve claimed as your spot, watching Dr. O’Hara pace in front of the projector screen that displays today’s lesson notes.

“And what is the hallmark of this mutant gene that demonstrates its incompatibility for transmutation?” He asks the silent room of undergraduates that have found themselves on the roster for his Mutation Genomics III course at Universidad Estatal de Nueva York.

A few hands go up around the room and Dr. O’Hara points to a student in the back who says, “Uh, it’s got a spiked protein arrangement that can’t be modified?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Dr. O’Hara asks. There’s a sprinkle of laughter in the room and a smirk tilts his lips briefly.

“An answer,” the student says more confidently. Dr. O’Hara nods.

“Correct, but that’s not the whole picture,” he says. His eyes catch yours and he gestures for you to join him. Your eyes go wide as you stand and walk to his side at the front of the class. “I’m sure some of you that actually use your available resources to pass my class recognize my teaching assistant. And if you don’t, I recommend visiting her office hours during this section because this is her area of research.”

Your cheeks feel warm as everyone’s attention falls to you. Dr. O’Hara hands you the data pad and steps back, giving you an encouraging nod. You tap the screen, bringing the diagram up on the holo projector and making it larger.

“You’re correct that the spiked protein arrangement can’t be modified, but there’s something more limiting in this particular model. If you look at it from this angle—,” you spin the DNA diagram, “you’ll see something else hindering the modification process. What do you see?”

Hands go up. Dr. O’Hara points to another student who says, “There’s a gap jump. The spike protein would continue to travel across the gap jump and avoid any inserts.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the potential alternative?”

“Fill the gap. Target the spike protein in your modification cycle,” Dr. O’Hara finishes. “That’s all for today. Your exam next Wednesday will include this presentation, so don’t act surprised when you see the questions.”

A few students stop to speak with Dr. O’Hara as you gather your bag from your desk. His low voice calls your name, the timbre of it sending a shiver down your spine as you step up to his desk.

“You’re running a sequence right now, sí?” He asks, shuffling a stack of papers into order.

“Yes, it should finish around seven tonight. Sorry, I know that it's late for a Friday,” you reply. He waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll see you in the lab.” His brown eyes flick to yours and your stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat, same as it always does when he looks at you.

Dr. Miguel O’Hara makes you nervous. Not only because he’s one of the most notable researchers in the field of mutant genomics, but also because he’s so handsome he leaves you breathless. He’s tall, towering over most men you’ve met, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist that are always covered by a suit and tie in the classroom or a lab coat in the research lab. His tan skin is complemented by dark hair and brown eyes that make you lose your train of thought when you stare into them for too long.

Which…is exactly what you’re doing now.

You clear your throat, stepping back from his desk. Had you been leaning closer? Christ, you hope not. You give him a brief smile before responding, “Yeah, see you tonight. Thank you, Dr. O’Hara!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Miguel?” He calls after you.

“Maybe when I’ve cracked the sequence!”

________

Miguel watches your hips sway in the jeans you wore to class today, the denim hugging your curves so well he has to bite back a groan. The door to the lecture hall slams shut behind you and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw in frustration.

You drive him crazy. Every class period you’re sitting in the front row, watching him as you tap your pen to your lips or leaning over your desk just enough to give him a glimpse down your blouse or dress. Or you’re in the lab, delicately handling samples and extractions with a level of competency beyond your years, your lip caught between your teeth as you analyze a sequencing output.

He looks forward to and dreads your impending graduation in equal measure, being free from the constant temptation but losing the greatest researcher he’s met in years.

Miguel finishes gathering his belongings as the door opens and the next lecturer comes in, nodding at him in greeting. As he steps out into the warm Nueva York air, he has a weird sense that something big is coming.

He just doesn’t know what.

________

Miguel is waiting for you outside of his double locked research lab that evening, suit jacket hung over his arm and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal tan forearms dusted with dark hair. Your brain nearly short circuits at the sight, conjuring up images of those arms wrapped around your—

No, you think. He’s your mentor. Your handsome, intelligent, and very serious mentor.

He looks up as you approach, corners of his lips tilting the slightest bit. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light, you can’t be sure, but he presses his palm to the biometric lock and the heavy metal doors slide open. He steps inside ahead of you, putting his face in the frame of the security camera. A red laser scans his face and a light above the second locked door goes from red to green, the click of the lock disengaging echoing in the anteroom.

You follow him through the door and into his research lab. The fluorescent lights glimmer off the chrome equipment and pristine bench surfaces. A machine whirs, running the sequence analysis you’ve been waiting on.

“LYLA, what’s the status?” Dr. O’Hara says as he sets his belongings on the desk in the corner.

“Sequence will complete on schedule. Also, your specimen delivery is available in the ultra low freezer,” Dr. O’Hara’s AI assistant, LYLA, announces, feminine voice carrying through the room.

“I have a surprise for you,” Dr. O’Hara says, tugging on his lab coat as he walks towards the ultra low freezer.

“A surprise?” You ask, setting your stuff down at the assistant’s work space.

There’s the beep of a passcode being entered and the heavy freezer door being opened and shut. He’s holding a tray of cryovials, the contents varying in color. He sets the tray on a bench top near your desk and pulls one out, holding it up to the light.

“Isolated arachnoid mutagen,” he says. Your mouth drops open in shock. You rush forward, pressing in close to stare up at the vial with him.

“You’re kidding,” you whisper. He hands the vial to you, fingers brushing yours. You hold it between your thumb and index finger to inspect the suspension, red in color with tiny flecks of black. “Dr. O’Hara, this is insane. How did you even get this?”

“A guy owed me a favor,” he says. You glance up at his face and you’re suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. One deep breath and your chest would probably graze his, and did you just imagine his eyes dropping to your lips?

“That’s one hell of a favor,” you murmur, stepping back. “You want me to work on the extraction?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“You say that like I’m not your research assistant. You can tell me to do anything.” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes go wide and you cough. “I mean, you know, lab related. Research stuff. Yeah. I’ll get started on this. LYLA? Power up the centrifuge and thermocycler, please.”

“Centrifuge is online. Thermocycler will reach optimal processing temperature in t-minus five minutes,” LYLA replies.

You set up all the necessary supplies and prepare the sample for the thermocycler, going through the motions that are now part of your muscle memory - extract, vortex, centrifuge, extract, wash, set in ice. You set your tray of samples into the thermocycler and remove your gloves to hit the start button.

________

Miguel watches you run the PCR test, fixated on the confidence with which you complete each step and your words from earlier continue to echo in his head.

“You can tell me to do anything.”

Dios mío, he thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to will away the possibilities that anything could entail.

“Sequence results are available. Would you like to review now?” LYLA asks.

“Display,” Miguel says. You spin on your stool to view the hologram of the spliced DNA you prepared. He notices an issue immediately.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stepping up to the control screen and spinning the model. “There’s a deletion.”

“You knew there was a risk of that.”

You zoom in on the model DNA strand, a broken gap shown in the mutation. “I know there was a risk, but it should have worked.”

Miguel crosses his arms and watches as you bring up the transillumination image of the DNA you had attempted to merge with a human sample. “You wanted it to work. Science is finite. There is no room for should.”

You glance at him. You look like you’re about to say something when the thermocycler beeps and he’s left to wonder what you would have said as you busy yourself with removing your tray of DNA samples. He leans against the bench as you assemble the agarose gel for electrophoresis.

“Tell me, why do you think there was a deletion?” He asks.

“The mutagen was incompatible with the human strand,” you murmur, adding dye to your vials. “Just the same as it has been the last dozen times.”

You’ve loaded the wells of the gel with your sample and set it in the tank, closing the lid and turning on the power supply. Miguel takes the remaining tray of arachnid samples to the freezer while your procedure runs. He understands your frustration, he’s run his fair share of failed experiments after all.

After about an hour, the hum of the electrical current from the electrophoresis tank shuts off. Miguel, who had been reviewing a journal submission for El Origen de la Genética Mutante, joins you at the bench as you remove your gel and set it on the UV transilluminator.

“LYLA, scan and project,” you ask the AI assistant. Miguel stands behind you, looking at the DNA bands you’ve generated. He’s momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s so close he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, something citrusy that reminds him of summer.

You jump suddenly, back colliding with his chest. His hands come up to grip your waist, steadying you as you turn to face him, face lit up in the brightest grin.

“Miguel, look. This arachnid mutagen. It’s a potential match for insertion!” You say excitedly. “It has the same length as the deletion seen with the scorpion mutagen.”

“LYLA, show the current projection against the scorpion scan,” he says. The two images appear side by side and it’s clear that the band of arachnid mutagen fits definitively in a space that appears void in the scorpion samples. “Mierda.”

“You see it, right?” You ask. It’s then that Miguel realizes he’s still got his hands on your waist. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching as your eyes go the slightest bit darker at the pressure.

“I can see it,” he murmurs. He wants so desperately to lean in closer, to back your body up until you’re pressed between the wall and his body, nowhere to go as his lips explore yours.

But he doesn’t. He drops his hands and puts much needed space between your bodies. He clears his throat.

“Prepare a combined sample,” Miguel says. You blink, checking your watch.

“It’s almost nine. Running a new combined sample would mean we’re here until close to midnight.”

“I’m familiar with how time passes, sí.”

“Are you sure you want—“

Miguel sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re on the verge of one of the greatest scientific discoveries in the last decade. Do you think I give a shit about having to stay late? What kind of mentor would I be if I told you, ‘Oh just wait until Monday to change the scientific world’?”

“One with a work-life balance, probably,” you reply with a giggle. Miguel raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, okay, combined sample. I’m on it.”

As you rush around the lab, it hits him that you called him Miguel. Not Dr. O’Hara. He’s not sure what that means but he’s certain he wants to hear his name from your lips again.

_______

Dr. O’Hara orders food while your new combined sequence runs, begrudgingly agreeing to a half pineapple and half sausage pizza to split. You’re sitting outside of the lab in the empty hallway, pizza box between you as you eat the slices over grease stained napkins.

“What are your plans for after graduation?” Dr. O’Hara asks. You shrug.

“Probably get my doctorate. No one takes you seriously in this field without one.”

He frowns. “You’re on the cusp of a major breakthrough, one that could change our understanding of genetic modifications and mutants as we know it.”

“Yeah, and it’s coming from your lab. You’ll get listed as the first author, that’s how this goes.” You pick at your pizza crust, tearing the bread into tiny pieces that you sweep back into the box.

“I won’t let that happen. If this works, you’ll be the first name on that paper,” Dr. O’Hara says vehemently. “Te lo prometo.”

You smile, caught in his gaze for a brief moment before an alarm rings from his watch. LYLA announces, “Sequencing complete.”

Dr. O’Hara stands, holding a hand out to you. You grasp his broad palm and he pulls you up with ease, the force of it making you stumble slightly. You press a hand to his chest to steady yourself, marveling at how solid he feels beneath your palm.

“Sorry. Slipped,” you murmur.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a crease between his brow and storms in his eyes. His watch beeps again and he releases your hand to silence it, the spell broken between you.

He unlocks the lab doors and you join him at the holoprojector, taking a deep breath. Dr. O’Hara brings up the sequence analysis, the hologram coming to life in the space between you. Your eyes scan the model, checking for gaps, deletions, frayed nucleotides, anything that could mean your procedure didn’t work.

You turn the projection this way and that, looking at it from every angle. You scan the result output reading, eyes jumping to the green SEQUENCING SUCCESSFUL text at the bottom.

You turn to face Dr. O’Hara, eyes wide with surprise. “It worked.”

“It did,” he replies.

“It worked,” you say again. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, your grin so wide it hurts your cheeks as you rush forward shouting, “It worked!”

Dr. O’Hara’s arms open to catch you, wrapping around your waist as he lifts you from the ground and spins you. He’s smiling, a rare sight for such a serious man, and it makes your heart pound in your chest as you stare up into his face.

“Dr. O’Hara?” You ask as he sets you down, his arms still wrapped tight around your back. “What—“

His lips collide with yours, stealing your breath from your lungs and your words from your brain as you melt against his broad body. The kiss is anything but gentle, with Miguel acting like a man starved as his tongue sweeps into your mouth.

“Dr. O’Hara—“

“Lo juro por Dios, if you call me that one more time,” he growls, lips trailing down your neck with wet kisses, “Miguel. Say it.”

“M-Miguel,” you whimper. He smiles against your neck before sinking his teeth against your pulse point, making you gasp.

“That’s right,” he says, lifting his head. His brown eyes have gone dark and he’s smirking as his hands find the hem of your blouse, fingertips ghosting across the skin of your abdomen and dipping beneath the waist of your jeans. “Tell me what you want, arañita.”

Rather than trust your voice, you bring your own hands to his shirt collar, working at the buttons of his dress shirt as he opens the fly of your pants. He slips his hand lower just as you reach the last button of his shirt, revealing the tight white t-shirt that outlines his impressive chest.

His fingers rub you over your panties and you feel your knees buckle at the delicious friction. Miguel chuckles, removing his hand to grip the backs of your thighs and lift you against him, your legs wrapping around his trim waist and your hands holding onto his shoulders. He sets you down by his desk, reaching around you to sweep the surface clean, pens and paper falling to the floor.

“In a rush are we?” You say with a laugh. Miguel raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cállate.” He kneels before you, lifting each foot to remove your shoes before turning you to face the desk with his hands on your hips. He grasps the waist of your jeans and shimmies the material down over your hips. When they’re pooled around your ankles, his warm palms grip each ass cheek roughly, spreading you open. “This pussy is even prettier than I imagined,” he groans.

“You think about my pussy a lot, Dr. O’Hara?” You ask innocently. A palm lands a smack to your ass cheek, heat blooming across your skin as you gasp.

“Don’t play dumb, baby, I know you’ve thought about this just as much. You think I can’t see it. Trust me, I can see you watching me in class with those pretty little lips wrapped around your pen, wishing it was something else. Isn’t that right?”

You gasp as he runs his thick fingers through your soaked folds, reaching forward only enough to graze your clit without giving it the attention you desperately want. He leans himself over you, his chest pressed to your back and his lips grazing your ear as he says, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes,” you pant, the confession earning you that delicious friction, his fingers drawing messy circles around the sensitive nub. He withdraws too soon for your liking, a whine falling from your lips that he shushes, his warm breath on your pussy. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, surprised to find him on his knees.

As you watch, he spreads your cheeks once more before leaning in, licking from your clit to your entrance with a rough groan. Your head drops down, hitting the surface of the desk with a thump as he eats you out like a man who’s found water in a desert. The sounds echoing in the lab are downright indecent, deep groans of appreciation against your cunt and desperate whines from your lips.

“Miguel,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still as his tongue drives you closer to the cliff’s edge of release. “Miguel, I’m gonna cum!”

The man only grips your hips harder, fingers digging deep as he holds you still and doubles his efforts. The thread you’re hanging on by snaps, sending you falling into ecstasy as your muscles go tight and your breath leaves you in a shout of his name as you unravel.

He pulls away only long enough to stand and turn you to face him, lifting you so that you’re sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread by his body. He wastes no time slipping two thick fingers inside of your still fluttering cunt, his grin sharp as he sets a pace that has you trying to wiggle away to escape the overstimulation.

“Ah, Miguel!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs. His free hand shoves one thigh wide, pressing it to the desk. “What–”

“Cum for me again, I need to see your face this time,” he demands. He curls his fingers, pressing against your front wall with each drag of his hand from your body.

“I can’t!”

“What was it you said to me earlier? I can tell you to do anything?” He curls his fingers harder, focusing his efforts on a spot that has you squirming, desperate to get away and to cum in equal measure. “I’m telling you to cum again, arañita, so be a good girl and do as I say.”

Your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, the tightness in your abdomen unraveling as you clench around his fingers. His movements slow as you try to catch your breath until he’s withdrawing, leaving you feeling disparagingly empty.

“Mirame,” Miguel says. You lift your head, pushing yourself up on your elbows and watching as he unbuckles his belt. “You made a mess, baby.”

You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you notice the wet stains on the front of his gray slacks. The feeling is short lived, however, as Miguel unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his thighs along with his boxers, kicking them to the side as he reaches behind his head and pulls his t-shirt off. You’re blown away by how stunning he is, broad shoulders and chest that lead to sculpted abs and a defined adonis belt that draws your eyes to his thick and intimidatingly long cock.

“There’s no way that’s going to fit,” you tell him nervously.

“Why don’t we test that hypothesis?” He asks, taking himself in hand. You blink at him.

“Did…did you just make a joke?” Laughter bubbles up your chest until it’s spilling into the room, your shoulders shaking with the force of it. Miguel takes himself in hand, notching the broad head of his length to your dripping entrance and sliding inside the barest amount, just the tip, but it has your laughter morphing into gasps.

“Mierda,” he murmurs, gaze fixed where your bodies connect. “So fucking tight, arañita.”

You feel like he’s splitting you apart, the stretch deep and all consuming as he fits himself inside of you, drawing back after each inch and slowly thrusting back in and giving you more of his cock in the process.

“You’re so close,” he tells you. “You’re doing so good for me. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels so fucking good, Miguel,” you answer honestly. “I’m so full.”

“Fucking right you are,” he growls. His hands shove your blouse up, bunching the fabric under your armpits to expose your breasts. He tugs the cups of your bra down before leaning forward, the last bit of his length slipping inside of you as his lips wrap around a pert nipple and his hand gropes the opposite breast.

Your back arches at all the sensation - the fullness and stretch of him inside of you, the warmth of his mouth and the pinch of his fingers. He moves his mouth to your other breast and looks up at you through dark lashes with darker eyes as he licks the taut peak while holding your gaze.

His hips draw back, the drag of each inch from your body exquisite torture until he slams into you, the force of it sliding you up the desk. You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders and your fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents as you cling to him.

Miguel stands, his arms looping beneath your thighs so that the backs of your knees rest across his forearms, spreading you open as he picks up his pace. He looks down at your body like it’s his greatest discovery.

“Fuck, fuck, te sientes tan bien,” he growls.

“Miguel,” you moan, “please, please, please!”

“What are you begging for, arañita? Tell me.”

“Wanna cum, please, Miguel,” you beg. He drops your legs, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of your neck, urging you to sit up. You keep one hand planted on the desk behind you, the other diving into his thick, dark hair, pulling at the strands.

He drags his strong nose along your jaw as he murmurs, “Greedy girl, but I’ll give you what you need. Won’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you moan in response. His other hand settles at the base of your throat and his eyes hold a question that has your pussy clenching around him in anticipation.

His palm creeps up, strong fingers wrapping around your delicate throat, squeezing the sides the slightest bit. Your eyes roll back at the pressure.

“Look at me,” Miguel demands, “look at me while I make you cum again with my hand around your pretty throat.”

You gasp for air as he pounds into you, your release sparkling at the edges of your vision. It explodes like a supernova across your nerves, your muscles tightening around him and making him moan, a deep rumble that you echo as his movements grow erratic.

He slams deep inside of you, cock pulsing and filling you with warmth as he groans your name, head dropped to your shoulder. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the sweat on your skin cools and you run your fingers through his hair.

“That was—“

“Perfecto,” he finishes, lifting his head and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, one that has your heart pounding even harder than the lust filled ones from earlier. “It’s late. Let’s get this cleaned up and get you home. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you argue. He scowls at you as you continue to say, “No, seriously, you don’t need to go out of your way—“

“Will you shut up for a minute?” Miguel asks. He holds your face in his hands as he says, “Get dressed. I’m driving you home.”

He steps back, the absence of him making you feel empty as you carefully stand from the desk on shaky legs. He hands you your jeans and you look around in confusion.

“Have you seen my underwear?” You ask.

“Hm? No, I don’t see them,” he hums, buttoning his slacks. The stain from earlier has blessedly faded.

You shrug, pulling your jeans on and fixing your blouse. Miguel cleans up the stuff he’d knocked from the desk, putting it all back in haphazard piles and grabbing his bag. He holds his hand out to you.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He must sense the hesitation you’re feeling when you don’t immediately grab his hand because he steps close, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “No one will see us. It’ll be our secret.”

You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Just this once?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, arañita.”

The most fantastic fanart by narutoss.ramen on insta that fits the vibe of professor! miguel:

#miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x female reader #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #atsv fic #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #alternate universe #no use of y/n

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lapetitemortarts · 8 months ago

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Robert McGinnis

Born in 1926 in Cincinnati, Ohio and raised in Wyoming, he is an American artist and illustrator. Known for his more than 1200 Illustrations and over 40 movie posters, including "Breakfast at Tiffanys" (his first movie poster), Barbarella and several James Bond and Matt Helm films. McGinnis became an apprentice at Walt Disney Studios, then studied fine art at Ohio State University. After wartime service in the merchant marine he went into advertising and a chance meeting with Mitchell in 1958 led to his introduction to Dell Publishing where he began a career of a variety of paperback covers for books written by authors such as Donald Westlake (signing as Richard Stark), Edward S. Aarons, Erle Stanley Gardner, Richard S. Prather, Shayne Michael and Carter Brown. In 1985, he was awarded the title of "Romantic Artist of the Year" by Romantic Times magazine. He is a member of the Society of Illustrators Hall of Fame.

.......................... Nació en 1926 en Cincinnati, Ohio y se crió en Wyoming, es un artista e ilustrador americano. Conocido por sus más de 1200 Ilustraciones y más de 40 carteles de cine, incluyendo "Desayuno en Tiffanys" (su primer cartel de la película), Barbarella y varias películas de James Bond y Matt Helm. McGinnis se convirtió en un aprendiz en los Estudios Walt Disney, luego estudió Bellas Artes en la Universidad Estatal de Ohio. Después del servicio durante la guerra en la marina mercante entró en la publicidad y un encuentro casual con Mitchell en 1958 le llevó a ser introducido a Dell Publishing donde inició una carrera de una variedad de rústica de cubiertas para libros escritos por autores como Donald Westlake (que firmaba como Richard Stark), Edward S. Aarons, Erle Stanley Gardner, Richard S. Prather, Shayne Michael y Carter Brown. En 1985, fue galardonado con el título de "Artista Romántico del Año" por la revista Romantic Times. Él es miembro de la Sociedad de Ilustradores del Salón de la Fama.

#art #robert mcginnis #arts #pintura #artist #arte

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papapupi · 7 months ago

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*FELIZ DÍA DEL IDIOMA ESPAÑOL*

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Para los amantes de la lectura y de la buena gramática😃

*Humor intelectual:*

- ¿Por qué vas tan elegante a la universidad?

- Porque tengo clase.

______________________

- Quisiera comprar un libro sobre la fatiga y el cansancio.

- Lo siento, están agotados.

______________________

- Oye, ¿te gusta la teoría de Einstein?

- Relativamente.

______________________

- Alguna vez pensé que entre tú y yo todo se podría.

- Y, pues sí, se pudrió.

______________________

- Mi hijo está practicando natación.

- ¿Y qué tal le va?

- Nada mal.

______________________

- Doctor, soy asmática, ¿es grave?

- No, señora, es esdr��jula.

______________________

- El mes pasado contraí matrimonio.

- Contraje.

- Claro, tenía que ser formal.

______________________

- No me quieres porque soy daltónico, ¿verdad, Celeste?

- ¡Me llamo Violeta!

______________________

- Oye, ¿cómo te llamas?

- No soy el ayer, ni soy el mañana.

- ¿De qué hablas?

- Me llamo Eloy.

______________________

- Hola, cielo, ¿cómo estás?

- Parcialmente nublado, con probabilidades de lluvia.

______________________

- Joven, ¿podría decirme dónde vio por última vez a la señora de las empanadas?

- Por su puesto.

*CURIOSIDADES DEL IDIOMA ESPAÑOL*

______________________

Con 23 letras, se ha establecido que la palabra

*Electroencefalografista* es la más extensa de todas las aprobadas por la Real Academia Española de la Lengua.

______________________

En el término *Centrifugados*, todas las letras son diferentes y ninguna se repite.

______________________

La palabra *Oía* tiene tres sílabas en tres letras.

______________________

En *Aristocráticos*, cada letra aparece dos veces.

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El vocablo *Cinco* tiene a su vez cinco letras, coincidencia que no se registra en ningún otro número.

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El término *Corrección* tiene dos letras dobles...

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Las palabras *Ecuatorianos y Aeronáuticos* poseen las mismas letras, pero en diferente orden.

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El término *Estuve* contiene cuatro letras consecutivas por orden alfabético: *s-t-u-v*.

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Con nueve letras, *Menstrual* es el vocablo más largo con solo dos sílabas.

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La palabra *Pedigüeñería* tiene los cuatro firuletes que un término puede tener en nuestro idioma: la virgulilla de la ñ, la diéresis sobre la ü, la tilde del acento y el punto sobre la i.

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El vocablo *Reconocer* se lee lo mismo de izquierda a derecha, que viceversa (palíndromo).

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La palabra *Euforia* tiene las cinco vocales y sólo dos consonantes...

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Y YA PARA ACABAR

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Otra curiosidad del Castellano (español):

*LAS CINCO VOCALES*

La famosa escritora española *_Lucía Echevarría, ganadora del Premio Planeta 2004,_* dijo en una entrevista, que _"murciélago"_ era la única palabra en el idioma español que contenía las 5 vocales.

Un lector, *_José Fernando Blanco Sánchez,_* envió la siguiente carta al director del diario ABC:

_Acabo de ver en la televisión estatal a Lucía Echevarría diciendo que, "murciélago" es la única palabra en nuestro idioma que tiene las cinco vocales._

_Mi estimada señora:_

_Piense un poco y controle su "euforia"._

_Un "arquitecto" "escuálido", llamado "Aurelio" o "Eulalio", dice que lo más "auténtico" es tener un "abuelito" que lleve un traje "reticulado" y siga el "arquetipo" de aquel viejo "reumático" y "repudiado", que "consiguiera" en su tiempo, ser "esquilado" por un "comunicante", que cometió "adulterio" con una "encubridora" cerca del "estanquillo", sin usar "éstimulador"._

_Señora escritora, si el "peliagudo" "enunciado" de la "ecuación" la deja "irresoluta," y piense de modo "jerárquico"._

_No se atragante con esta "perturbación", que no va con su "milonguera" y "meticulosa" "educación"._

_Y repita conmigo, como diría Cantinflas:_

_¡Lo que es la ignorancia!_

_Solo me queda recomendarle que se refresque con hojas de "eucalipto"..._

*¡Demasiado bueno como para no compartirlo...!!!*

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pablogavisgirl · 2 years ago

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Broken Love

read part two ➸ here

Warnings; Angst (I love angst lol), a lot of Spanish, not proof read !!

People say love is pure, painful, sweet, and dreadful all at once. And they were right because love was what broke your friendship, love is what made you lose him.

Everyone knows not to fall for thier bestfriends, it only leads to heartbreak. But for some reason you thought you were above that rule, after all how could you not fall for your bestfriend when he was Pablo Gavi.

You and Gavi had been bestfriends since childhood, living next door to eachother, going to the same school, watching him play soccer with the neighborhood kids. You two were practically inseparable growing up.

The bond between Y/n and Gavi was so strong that it didn't even break when Gavi moved to Barcelona to start his professional career. They messaged and called all the time, they visited eachother when they had holidays. Nothing could break those two apart.

Or so they thought. Love. Love is what drove them apart. Love was a powerful thing that could bring people together or tear them apart, for Y/n and Gavi it tore them apart from one another, it was what destroyed their friendship of many years.

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

She couldn't believe it, she stared at her screen as the words "Felicitaciónes, has sido aceptada en la Universidad de Barcelona." (Congratulations you have been accepted the University of Barcelona) stared back at her. She didn't tell anyone, not even Gavi it was meant to be a surprise.

They had been separated for so long, and now they would be reunited once more. She was so excited she grabbed her phone and facetimed Gavi, he picked up after the third ring, she turned her camera allowing him to read off the screen.

His face turned serious, and that little wrinkle on his forehead that would always pop up when he was reading came to view, she could see Gavi's smile begin to form, the wrinkle disappearing.

"Felicidades, nena!" (Congratulations!) Gavi said estatic happy at the fact him and his bestfriend would be able to see eachother again through person and not just through a screen.

His smile never faded, as he heard her go on and on over how excited she was about getting to see him again, and how she should fly over to start seeing apartments. Gavi laughing at her rambling, offering he would go with her.

A week later, Y/n had arrived at Barcelona and was waiting for Gavi to show up at her hotel, she spotted the familiar green mini cooper pulling up. She got in closing the door, "Hola Pablito." (Hey Pablo) Kissing his cheek as usual, "Hola Pedri" (Hey Pedri) she said shaking his hand, "Hola, Y/n, ¿cómo has estado?" Pedri asked (Hey, Y/n, how have you been?"

Pedri wasn't dumb he was fully aware about Y/n's crush on Gavi. If anything Gavi was the dumb one who never seemed to realize it. It was so obvious to the blind eye, how Y/n would kill for him, it was so obvious that everytime Gavi talked her pupils would dilate and her full attention would go to him shutting out everyone else.

It was obvious to everyone but Gavi. Pedri had brought it up one night while they were playing FIFA at his apartment.

"Tío, ¿qué está pasando entre tú y Y/n?" Pedri asked Gavi, Gavi turing to look at him in confusion. (Brother whats going between you and Y/n?)

"¿Qué quieres decir?" Gavi said (What do you mean?)

"Quiero decir que ustedes som amigos cercanos, pero ¿alguna vez has pensado en ella de una manera romántica?" Pedri wondered. (I mean you two are pretty close right? Have you ever thought about her in a romantic way?)

"Uh, no, nunca he pensado en ella de esa manera." Gavi said focused on the game. (Uh, no, I've never thought about her in that way.)

¿Por qué preguntas?" Gavi asked. (Why'd you ask?)

"Damas." (Just because.)Pedri shrugged, mentally slapping Gavi on how dumb he could be. How could he not realize Y/n was practically inlove with him.

She would die for him, she would kill for him, she would go to hell for him. The love she had for him was noticable to the blind eye. The problem was Gavi was blind and couldn't see a good thing that was infront of him.

Pedri just hoped that Gavi would realize his feelings for her before some other guy came and took her from him.

They arrived to the apartments both Gavi and Y/n exiting the car saying their goodbyes to Pedri. Entering the building

"¿Qué te parece?" (What do you think?) Y/n asked Gavi, "Creo que es agradable, tenía una buena vista para ver la puesta de sol, ¿todavía te gusta verlos?" (I think its nice, it has a good view to watch sunsets. You still like to watch them?)

"Claro, si consigo este apartamento, ¿vendrás a verlos conmigo?" Y/n asked Gavi. (Of course, if I do get this apartment will you watch them with me?)

Back at home in Sevilla, watching the sunsets on the rooftop of her house was a regular occurrence between Y/n and Gavi.

It was there thing, something no one could take from them, it was their own personal bubble, that helped them forget from their worries.

"Por supuesto, sabes que no puedo decirte que no, nena." Gavi said kissing her forehead. (Of course, you know I can't say no to you.)

Y/n's chest tightened at the action, she knew it was only a interaction between friends. But what if it could be something more. It felt like something more.

She pushed the thoughts aside not wanting to be delusional over some harmless kiss. She knew she was in love with him she has been for a while now.

It was her 18th birthday, Gavi had flown to Sevilla to celebrate it with her. Her parents were away for business so she was alone.

He planned a little dinner with his family and her considering how much his parents loved Y/n and how close she and Aurora were.

"¡Feliz cumpleaños a ti!" (Happy birthday to you!) They sung to her as she was standing behind the cake, applauding as the song died down.

How thankful she was to atleast be spending it with people she loves and not alone, and she owed thanks to Gavi for throwing this for her.

"¡Oh, hija, no te preocupes, es tu cumpleaños, no deberías tener que ayudarme a limpiar!" Belen exclaimed, (Oh! Don't worry about it, its your birthday you shouldn't be helping me clean up!)

"¡En todo caso, debería ser Aurora y Pablo ayudándome a mí, no a ti!" (If anything it should be Pablo and Aurora helping me) She said looking out the window seeing them sitting down laughing outside.

"Entonces, Pablito y tú, ¿no pasa nada entre vosotros?" (So has nothing happened between you and Pablo?) Belen asked sitting down the plate she was cleaning. It caught you off by surprise. "Mande?" Y/n asked. (Pardon?)

"Oh, ya sabes, ¿habéis estado pegados el uno al otro durante muchos años, no ha pasado nada entre ustedes dos?" Belen asked. (Oh you know, you two have been joint to the hip all these years, nothing has happened between you?)

"No ha pasado nada entre nosotros, nunca pensé en él de esa manera". She laughed awkwardly. (No nothings happened between us, I've never thought about him that way.)

"Mira mi amor, veo la forma en que lo miras, y mi hijo debe ser tonto para no darse cuenta". Belen laughed, taking your hand. (Look my love, I see the way you look at him, and if my son must be dumb not to realize.)

"Pero lo que no parece darse cuenta es que la chica de sus sueños ha estado frente a él todo este tiempo, Y no me encantaría nada más que tenerte como mi nuera, siempre le dije a tu madre que tú y Pablito se casarían" (But what I can't seem to understand is that the girl of his dreams has been in front of him all along, and I wouldn't love anything more than to call you my daughter in law, I always told your mother you and Pablo would get married)

Y/n stared at her in shock, how did Belen realize that Y/n was inlove with Gavi before she even did. "Belén, me ha gustado desde hace algún tiempo, pero no creo que nunca me vea de esa manera, me refiero a las chicas constantes a su alrededor que no las comparo, son hermosas y yo..." Y/n said stopping Belen pulling her in for a hug, (Belen I have liked him for some time now, but I don't think nothing is going to happen, I mean look at the girl's constantly throwing themselves at him, they're beautiful and I-)

"Cariño, no te compares con ellas, has estado aquí para él desde su nacimiento, fuiste su primer fan desde que comenzó a jugar al fútbol, eres hermosa e inteligente y si no puede ver eso va a perder a alguien tan especial." Belen said, hugging you tigther. (Darling don't compare yourself to them, you have been here since his birth, you were his first fan when he began soccer, you are beautiful and smart and if he can't see that then's he's going to loose someone special.)

Gavi walked in looking for you, growing worried seeing his mother hug you "¿Que paso?" (What happened?)Gavi asked. (Nada, cariño, no te preocupes". (Nothing, darling, don't worry about it.) Belen said pulling away ushering both you and Gavi out the kitchen.

"Ven a ver la puesta de sol". Gavi said taking your hand, leading you to the roof. (Come see the sunset)

"Entonces, ¿de qué estabais hablando mi madre y tú, se trataba de un chico?" Gavi asked raising his eyebrows. (So what were you and your mom talking about? Was it over a boy?)

Y/n laughed, "Uh, no, solo le estaba agradeciendo a tu madre por hoy." (Uh no I was just thanking your mother for today)

"¡Oye, en caso de que olvidaras que fui yo quien preparó esto para ti, así que me merezco el agradecimiento!" Gavi said in a sarcastic tone. (Hey! Incase you forgot I planned this I deserve the thanking!)

"Gracias Pablito, ¿cómo se siente para que ya soy mayor que tú?" Y/n laughed, messing his hair up. (Thank you Pablo, how does it feel knowing I'm older than you?)

"De nada, nena, tu mereces lo mejor. Y solo eres dos meses mayor que yo!" Gavi laughed laying his head on her shoulder. (Your welcome, and you're only two months older than me!)

Her heart exploded, it was the first time they did this but ever since the conversation with Belen a couple minutes ago she saw every little interaction different. When he took her hand to lead her to the roof, she felt the electricity through her body, and now she didn't know what to think.

"Te amo Pablito." Y/n sighed (I love you Pablo)

"Yo tambièn" Gavi said, Y/n sighed (Me too) knowing he didn't mean it the way she did, he would probably never mean it the way she did.

She couldn't tell him the fear of loosing him overpowered her love, she would rather loose him to some other girl, than lose his friendship. She was willing to risk her heart for him, just so she wouldn't have to say goodbye.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

It had been a month and you have officially moved to Barcelona, it had only been a couple days. And you were still unpacking boxes, Gavi, Pedri, and Alejandro came over to help you unpack, the rest of your stuff.

You were in your room with Pedri, unpacking and setting up stuff in silence listening to music,

"Y/n, ¿se lo has dicho a Gavi?" Pedri broke the silence. (Y/n have you told Gavi)

"¿Perdón?" You take your airpod off, looking back at him. (Excuse me?)

"Sabes a lo que me refiero, ¿le has dicho que te gusta o... que estás enamorado de él?" Pedri asked. (You know what I mean, have you told him you like him or...that you're in love with him?)

"¿Qué estás loco? ¡No estoy enamorado de él!" You said quickly turing back to putting more clothes in the closet. (What are you crazy? I'm not inlove with him!)

"No te hagas el tonto, es obvio que lo haces, él no puede verlo porque es tonto, pero todo lo que necesita es un pequeño empujón y si se lo dices entonces..." Pedri rambled. (Don't play dumb, it's obvious he can't see it because he's dumb, but all he needs is a little push.)

"No, no puedo decírselo, tienes razón, lo amo, me di cuenta en mi cumpleaños, pero no puedo perder a mi mejor amigo Pedri." (No I can't tell him, you're right i do love him I realize the day of my birthday but I can't loose my bestfriend Pedri) She sighed turning to face him sitting on the bed, Pedri sitting next to her. "Tengo miedo porque ¿y si él no me quiere y arruino la amistad?" (I'm scared, and if he doesn't love me and I end up ruining the friendship?)

"Nena, no hay duda de que no te quiere". Pedri said. (I don't doubt that he doesn't love you.)

"¿Y cómo lo sabes, te lo ha dicho alguna vez? Pedri, prefiero verlo enamorarse de otra persona que perderlo, perderlo a otra chica me dolería menos, que yo perderlo porque no me ama." A little tear fell past your lashes and onto your palm. (And how do you know that, has he ever told you? Pedri I prefer loosing him to someone else than loosing him, I prefer loosing him to another girl it would hurt me less than loosing him because he doesn't love me.)

Pedri leaned and hugged you,

"Está bien, nena, el te ama, confía en mí, nunca sabrás si no se lo dices, y si no lo hace, entonces es más tonto de lo que pensé." Pedri comforted you. (Its ok, he loves you trust me, you'll never know if you don't do it, if he doesn't he's more of an idiot than I thought.)

"No quiero perderlo". You sniffed, wiping the tear away. (I don't want to loose him.)

The door slowly opened Gavi standing on the other side, "Oh, lo siento, no quise interrumpir". (Oh i'm sorry I didn't mean to interrupt.) Gavi said going to close the door, "Hermano Y/n quiere decirte algo". Pedri blurted out. (Brother, Y/n has something to tell you.)

Your head turned to face him, eyes wide slowly shaking your head, "Está bien, confía en mí". (Its ok trust me.) Pedri said calming you down, he stood up making his way out stopping to look at Gavi.

"No jodas esto, por favor". He said walking out yelling for Alejandro. (Don't fuck this up, please.)

"¿Qué pasa, nena?" He asked sitting beside you. (Whats up?)

"Uh, no quería decírtelo de inmediato, pero Pedri me lo aseguró, escucha, Pablo". You began. (Uh I didn't want to tell you so soon, but Pedri assured me it would be fine, listen Pablo.)

"¿Pablo? Nunca me llamas por mi nombre real, esto debe ser serio". (Pablo? You never call me by my real name this must be serious.) Pablo laughed, his laughter fading as he saw your face all serious, "¿Que pasa?" (Whats wrong?)

"Nunca me di cuenta hasta que tu madre lo señaló, cómo te miré y cómo me hiciste sentir". Pablo stared at you confused not knowing where you were going with this. (I didn't realize until your mom pointed it out, how I look at you, how you make me feel.)

"Me haces sentir feliz más de lo que algunos de mis ex me han hecho sentir, me cuidas y me ayudas a sentirme segura." (You make me happier than any of my exes have made me feel, you help me feel safe.)

"¿A dónde vas con esto?" Gavi asked, still not grasping the purpose of this conversation. (Where are you going with this?)

"Pablo, te amo, lo conozco desde mi cumpleaños desde-" (Pablo I've been in love with you since my birthday.)

"¿Qué estás loca?" Gavi asked. (What? Are you crazy?)

"Que?" You asked taken back by his response. (What?)

"No puedes estar enamorada de mí si solo somos amigos, eso es todo lo que hemos sido, tal vez estés confundida." Gavi said looking at you. (No you can't be inlove with me we're just friends, thats all we've ever been, maybe you're just confused.)

"No estoy confundida, tu madre me ayudó a darme cuenta, estoy enamorado de ti y-" (No I'm not confused, your mother helped me realize that i'm in love with y-)

"Mi mama?" Gavi asked. "Mira Y/n, no sé lo que te dijeron mi madre o Pedri, pero lo siento, no te amo como tu me amas, solo te he visto como un amiga." (Look y/n I don't know what my mom or Pedri told you but I'm sorry I don't love you like you do I've only see you as a friend.)

"Tal vez solo estés confundida por tus sentimientos, tal vez hacer un movimiento tan grande a Barcelona te confundió, no puedes amarme, quiero decir, somos mejores amigos". Gavi tried explaining to you, grabbing your hand. (Maybe you're just confused, maybe making a move that big to Barcelona confused you, you can't love me I mean we're best friends.)

You pulled away, "¿Cómo puedes decirme eso? ¿Cómo puedes descartar mis sentimientos de esa manera? Pablo, te amo!" (How can you say that to me? How can you just dismiss my feelings like that?)

"No te amo, lo siento, tengo que irme." (I don't love you, i'm sorry, i have to go) Gavi stood up, "Espera, Pablo, por favor, no te vayas." (Wait Pablo, Please don't leave) Tears began to fall from your eyes, he couldn't stand seeing you cry because of him, he felt guilty for not loving you back.

But he couldn't force himself to love you, I mean he didn't need distractions in his life he wanted to focus on soccer, and loving you/having a girlfriend wasn't part of the plan.

He hated causing you pain but, it was for the best, he walked out the door. He walked out of your life leaving you a mess on the floor crying.

This is why you didn't want to tell him, you didn't want to loose him but in the end you did.

You took out your phone and began to dial Pedri, "Entonces, ¿cómo te fue?" (So how'd it go?) Pedri asked excitedly, the sobs coming out, his face falling into a frown on the other side of the phone. "Ese hijo de puta." Pedri sighed. (That son of a bitch.)

"Voy pa tu casa." (I'm going to your house.)

He arrived, opening the door, "Sabes que es peligroso dejar la puerta abierta". (Do you know how dangerous it is to leave your door unlocked?) He laughed, walking into the living room, his heart broke at the sight.

You were curled into a ball on the couch, mascara running down your face, he sat next to you pulling you into him.

"¡Te dije que esto pasaría, te dije que lo perdería!" You cried out. (I told you this would happen! I told you I would loose him!)

"Lo siento, y/n te mereces algo mejor, es tonto, tal vez entre en razón". He tried reassuring you. (I'm sorry Y/n you deserve something better, maybe he'll realize later.)

"No, no lo hará, deberías haber estado allí, dijo que no me ama, nunca debería habérselo dicho". You sobbed clining onto him. (No, he won't you should have been there, he told me he didn't love me, I should have never told him.)

"Es tonto, es tan jodidamente estúpido por no darse cuenta de que tú eres el indicado para él, es tan jodidamente estúpido". He repeated, trying to calm you down, trying to make you fall asleep. (He's so fucking stupid, for not realizing you're the one for him, he's so fucking stupid)

And you did, you fell asleep in his arms heartbroken at the fact you had just lost your bestfriend just because you couldn't keep your feelings to yourself.

and you hated yourself for it.

#pablo gavi #fc barca #gavi imagine #gavi x reader #pablo martín páez gavira #please #gavi barcelona

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notasfilosoficas · 3 months ago

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“Las personas egoístas son incapaces de querer a los demás, y tampoco son capaces de quererse a sí mismas”

Erich Fromm

Fue un destacado psicoanalista, psicólogo social y filósofo humanista nacido en Alemania en marzo de 1900.

Nació en el seno de una familia judía muy estricta en seguir los preceptos de su religión. Estudió derecho en Francfort y posteriormente sociología en Heidelberg en donde hizo un doctorado en 1922.

En 1920, Fromm comenzó su formación como psicoanalista en el Instituto psicoanalítico de Berlín, en donde él y su esposa abandonaron su formación judía ortodoxa.

En 1934, con la llegada del partido nazi al poder, emigró hacia los Estados Unidos y durante los años 40 llevó a cabo una importante labor editorial.

Divorciado desde 1931, contrajo nupcias con su segunda esposa en 1944 con una emigrante judío alemana y en 1950 se mudaron a México en donde impartió cátedra en la Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, en donde fundó la sección psicoanalítica de la facultad de medicina y el Instituto Nacional de Psicoanálisis.

Durante 1957 y 1961, compaginó su actividad en la UNAM con una cátedra en la Universidad estatal de Michigan.

Fuertemente influenciado por Marx y Freud estuvo fuertemente involucrado con los movimientos pacifistas y fue un opositor a la guerra de Vietnam.

Sus perspectivas sobre la libertad individual y el desarrollo de una cultura libre hizo que con frecuencia se le asociara con la línea anarquista, a la vez que se le asociaba como partidario de un socialismo humanista y democrático.

En 1974 regresó a Suiza en donde murió en marzo de 1980 a la edad de 80 años.

Fuente: Wikipedia

#erich fromm #psicoanalista #psicoanálisis #citas de reflexion #frases psicologicas #frases de psicólogos #escritores #citas de escritores #frases de escritores #citas de la vida #psicólogos

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wgm-beautiful-world · 8 months ago

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Moscow State University - RUSSIA

#moscow state university #universidad #estatal #moscu #moscow #russia #rusia #europe #europa

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lescroniques · 1 year ago

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La Universidad Gallaudet: Sense necessitat d'intèrprets, els estudiants sords tenen accés complet a l'educació

Wininie Martínez / 20minutos.es gallaudet.edu “Altres universitats del país ensenyen en anglès parlat, que no és accessible per a les persones sordes. Per això, Gallaudet satisfà la necessitat de la comunitat sorda”, explica Robert Weinstock, gerent de Relacions Públiques i Comunicacions Universitàries de Gallaudet”. ”La gran majoria dels estudiants de llicenciatura, màster i doctorat (hi ha 30…

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#Estats Units #Gallaudet University #Robert Weinstock #Universidad Gallaudet

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blindingdreams · 4 months ago

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ACADEMICS

Este grupo está formado por todos aquellos que se encuentran actualmente cursando sus estudios en San Francisco, y estos sean una prioridad dentro de sus objetivos.

De un lado nos encontramos a los estudiantes de la universidad privada de San Francisco (USF) y por otro, a los de la Universidad Estatal de San Francisco (SFSU). Son dos instituciones que no solo est��n diferenciadas por su oferta académica y enfoque, también por el nivel económico de los alumnos que la conforman. La RIVALIDAD entre estas dos universidades se ha visto agrandada por la diferencia de clase social y de posibilidades. La USF acoge a quienes pueden permitirse altas matrículas y un estilo de vida más exigente mientras que por el contrario la SFSU al ser pública atrae a estudiantes con economía más diversa.

Ambas universidades cuentan con residencias estudiantiles que poseen todos los servicios necesarios para poder residir allí durante el curso. Por supuesto, la diferencia de comodidad y lujos entre ambas contribuye a incrementar esa tensión donde el dinero vuelve a ser determinante.

Lone Mountain Residence Hall: Residencia universitaria de los estudiantes de la USF. Se sitúa en la cima de una colina en el barrio de Lone Mountain. Ofrece a los alumnos una buena calidad de vida, con aparcamiento propio, servicio de limpieza, cuatro salas de estudiantes, un comedor con todo tipo de manjares en las comidas principales y un pequeño baño propio en las habitaciones. Cerca de la residencia se encuentra el Lone Mountain Café, donde el café es tan caro como delicioso. Cuenta con buena seguridad; para acceder se requiere la tarjeta Mobile One.

Mary Ward Hall: Residencia universitaria de los estudiantes de la SFSU. Se sitúa en el distrito de Lakeside, cerca del vecindario de Parkmerced y del Lake Merced. También está cercana a la costa del Océano Pacífico y la residencia se encuentra dentro del campus principal de la universidad, en una zona urbana pero con amplias áreas verdes alrededor. Su nivel de vida es más modesto. Ofrece a los alumnos un comedor con servicio de catering, dos grandes baños comunes específicos para cada género, portabicicletas, un gran salón, dos zonas de estudio y lavandería. Su seguridad es moderada, con llaves ordinarias para su acceso.

Por otro lado, están todos aquellos que pertenecen a colegios profesionales e institutos, cualquier tipo de estudio prioritario para el personaje que no sea universitario.

RANGOS

Student: Grupo de estudiantes que cursan sus estudios profesionales en academias o colegios profesionales. USF Student: Rango perteneciente a los estudiantes que cursan sus estudios en la universidad privada de San Francisco. Frecuentada por hijos de personas con gran poder adquisitivo y de clase alta. También es posible su acceso mediante becas, pero solo suelen concedérselas a estudiantes brillantes con potencial para aumentar el estatus de la universidad. SFSU Student: Rango perteneciente a los estudiantes que cursan sus estudios en la universidad pública de San Francisco. La frecuenta gente de una clase más humilde. Tiene una mayor facilidad de acceso y de concesión de becas.

#grupos #academics

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jgmail · 3 months ago

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Los filósofos rusos piden la descolonización de nuestra mente

Varios autores

Traducción de Juan Gabriel Caro Rivera

Occidente se ha autoproclamado como la civilización por excelencia e intenta imponer sus valores sobre el resto del mundo. Sin embargo, Rusia al ser un país con una historia milenaria alternativa a la occidental desempeña una especie de contrapeso a favor de las distintas civilizaciones que existen en el mundo multipolar actual. Lo anterior es la conclusión a la que llegaron los participantes de la mesa redonda «Civilización-Rusia: papel histórico e imagen del futuro» del Instituto de Expertos en la Investigación Social.

Vladimir Shapovalov, miembro de la junta directiva de la Asociación Rusa de Ciencias Políticas, responsable de varios proyectos de la EISI, declaro en el foro que: «La concertación y la cooperación son un principio fundamental dentro del Estado-civilización ruso. Rusia es una potencia milenaria que ha pasado por crisis y auges, habiendo desarrollado principios fundamentales como la unidad y diversidad de los pueblos que habitan nuestro país, el carácter abierto de la sociedad rusa, la unidad del poder y la sociedad, del poder secular y espiritual, la unidad de los pueblos y los estamentos conforme a un principio variado extremadamente complejo».

Según Shapovalov Rusia desempeña un papel clave en el desarrollo histórico mundial: «Este papel consiste no sólo en logros culturales, científicos y tecnológicos, que son de los más importantes a nivel mundial, sino también de la importancia de la lengua rusa, así como en la contribución que Rusia ha hecho a la creación del sistema de seguridad mundial y de las normas del derecho internacional».

Sin embargo, Occidente se autoproclamó como «la única civilización existente», dice el filósofo Alexander Dugin, «y, en este sentido, todo lo que han aportado Rusia, el islam o China se percibe como una especie de imitación, viendo a estas civilizaciones como provincias minúsculas que se rebelan contra el imperio global. De hecho, ellos consideran que Occidente es la única forma de comprender el mundo».

Dugin explica que la cultura occidental actual ya no tiene nada que ver con la cultura occidental clásica. Aunque esta última tampoco puede considerarse como un estándar para todas las civilizaciones. «Es aquí donde debe comenzar nuestro giro civilizacional hacia nosotros mismos y la construcción de un mundo multipolar. Hay que devolver sus derechos a la episteme rusa, que ahora debemos introducir en todas las disciplinas de las humanidades. Es necesario construir un mundo rusocéntrico en el que se reconozca la existencia de otros mundos y donde no pretendamos imponernos o sustituir a nadie».

Dugin dice: «Ahora luchamos contra el nazismo ucraniano y nos oponemos al Occidente colectivo, pero nuestro principal enemigo es nuestra conciencia, porque nuestra educación, nuestra ciencia, nuestro sistema político... todo está construido sobre los principios del universalismo occidental. Nuestra tarea es descolonizar la conciencia rusa».

Dusan Prorokovic, investigador del Instituto de Política y Economía Internacionales de Belgrado y ex diputado de la Asamblea Nacional serbia, comentó que Rusia es capaz de crear una alternativa a los valores occidentales y preservar los valores tradicionales en todo el mundo: «En los países ortodoxos de los Balcanes la influencia de Occidente es muy fuerte. Las estructuras formales de nuestros Estados se encuentran bajo ocupación y tienen una soberanía limitada».

Prorokovic agregó lo siguiente: «El papel de Rusia en los Balcanes es muy importante. El neoliberalismo posmoderno aboga por desmantelar los valores tradicionales y transformarnos. Se están desmantelando los Estados, la religión, la familia e incluso el concepto de hombre. Sólo Rusia puede oponerse a ello».

Vardan Baghdasaryan, profesor del Departamento de Políticas Públicas de la Universidad Estatal de Moscú, recordó las palabras de «nuestro adversario», el asesor especial del Secretario General de la ONU para la reducción de la pobreza, Jeffrey Sachs: «Pusimos a una Rusia enferma en la mesa de operaciones, le abrimos el pecho y resultó tener una anatomía diferente».

Según Baghdasaryan, el concepto de Estado-civilización implica la prohibición de extrapolar principios de una civilización a otra: «De ello se deduce que nuestra soberanía se basa en la identidad y los valores. Además, el enfoque civilizatorio estudia constantes. La historia rusa es comprensible únicamente como una civilización: la antigua Rus, el zarismo moscovita, el Imperio ruso, la Unión Soviética, la resurrección de la actual Rusia... todo ello constituye la esencia de Rusia. Rusia es un arca que une a todos».

Oleg Matveichev, vicepresidente del Comité de Política de Información, Tecnologías de la Información y Comunicaciones de la Duma Estatal, declaró: «Cuando Rusia enarboló la bandera de los valores tradicionales, distintas naciones y representantes culturales empezaron a unirse en torno a ella. Muchos han empezado a buscar contactos con nosotros desde África, América Latina, Asia y otras regiones. Estos países no pueden desafiar a Occidente solos».

El diputado concluyó: «Vemos que el mundo entero está conmocionado por el lugar al que el llamado Occidente intenta llevarlos. Es importante que nuestras humanidades, filósofos, científicos e investigadores averigüen con qué poder y voluntad podemos desempeñar el papel de vínculo entre las diferentes civilizaciones y reivindicar un universalismo nuevo. Este universalismo debe permitir el dialogo y no subordinar a los demás».

#alexander dugin #descolonización #rusia #occidente #estado-civilización

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