#RealDad
Text
Angel
real!dad leon kennedy x afab!reader
tw: incest
short yip yap, 100% filth // related to: My, Penitence
an: i felt like yapping about just some sex between leon and the reader in the tl of my last story in between working on the actual second part of the story & some other stuff >_<;;; it isnt much but hehe
"Somedays I'm convinced your dad is more of a boyfriend than this 'mysterious' guy. You're always with him but I assume it's cause you're such a daddy's girl. He can't let you go, huh?"
Your friend jokes while blowing out the smoke from her cigarette.
"Probably just as overprotective now since his only child is having a kid. Must be a big thing for him."
You chuckle in response but you knew the truth. You knew all of what truly was happening. The sexual relationship with your father had went on for a while now. But she'd think you're insane, right?
"— I really wish I could meet the guy who got MY best friend pregnant!"
"My dad."
You respond softly, hearing a light cough. She choked on the smoke from your response.
"What?- You're fucking with me. Right?"
You gaze over, that warm smile remained on your face.
"Of course I'm fucking with you."
You lied, gently ghosting your fingertips over your belly. You felt the gentle kicks in response as your smile widened more. You were having his child. Your father's child.
You couldn't be any happier.
_
What was normal? You don't exactly remember what it's like to be a normal person like everyone else around you was. You adapted back to your roots and all the shit your father dragged you into.
Your first time, second time and yeah.. Whatever time by now wasn't as ideal. But you slowly but surely gotten back into that headspace you had a while back and enjoyed when he came up from behind to touch you or fuck you. You loved your daddy in a sick way all over again. You made the most sense out of it though even when he had spiraled from drinking and would smack you around, beat you till you saw nothing but darkness but you enjoyed finally being intertwined with him. You finally were close with him like the way you wanted it to be.
If anything, he molded you into what you originally wanted to be in the first place.
"Daddy.."
You're obviously mentally gone in the head, busy nuzzling against him like a needy dog while he has his arm wrapped around you, watching television with you. He glances over, a warm smile etched on his face - seeing you all up on him. He found it cute and amusing.
"Yeah sweetheart?"
"Need you.."
"Now?"
"Noooww.."
You thought you'd be past this when you were in your so called "healing" phase but that was short lived after he had you all to himself after the divorce — he seemed to have forgotten all about that, didn't even speak about your mother ever again and only spoke about you or ranted about work. The usual.
"Huh, alright. My pretty angel wants her daddy, yeah?"
"Mh.." You shift around, crawling right onto his lap while staring into his eyes lovingly. He enjoyed the sight of you, all bubbly and needy. It's exactly what he wanted out of you.
So with that, he didn't waste anytime in pulling his pajama pants off and his boxers, letting his cock fling out. You notice it and bite your lower lip with excitement; glancing towards him again with an ecstatic look on your face. This night was gonna be a long one.
_
You two were at it for a while, loud moans and begging filled the room. The scent of sex pooling throughout as you felt yourself in a new state of bliss. For the longest, you tried to get him to stop whenever he stopped by your bedroom at night. After he had taken your virginity, he couldn't get enough of you. Kept mentioning how you were like your mother but better.
At first it was weird then it turned out to make you smile when he said that. You craved for those compliments, hence why you started doing the things you did when you felt him slightly straying away from doing things with you. Changed your attire, purposely did the cliché thing of bending over with skirts or short dresses on so he could see your panties. All of those had brought him further into this taboo relationship. It never was meant to get out of hand but you both couldn't help it. If he was sick in the head, then you were too.
"Daddy's cock feels so- Good!!~"
You cry out, grazing your nails along his back. Your breasts brushed along his chest as he groans, gazing up at you. He was happy himself even if somedays he sat there with a concerned expression whenever he was laying there in bed with you.
"Oh?"
He replies, gripping to your hips before he decided it was time to take charge. He moves his hands up in a better position before grabbing you and pinning you down to the couch, slamming his cock back into you. Your moans are strained out while he stares down at you with a smile. He enjoyed seeing you like this regardless of the doubt in the back of his head that was faintly there.
"I'm gonna cum soon.."
He grasps your hip with one hand while his other hand was in yours, intertwining the both of your fingers together. It was bittersweet and you squeezed at his hand while looking up at him. His movements progressively gotten rougher and faster — nothing but the sound of skin slapping against each other and the loud squelching noises were heard through the room.
"I-inside?..Please.. Please inside!"
To his surprise, this was the first time you begged for him to cum inside. Surely, you expected him to do this on his own but he always pulled out of you each time in the past but this day was different. His cock throbbed from your pleads — only moving rougher than before as a low growl left his throat.
"Inside? You want daddy's cum inside, huh? Dirty girl.."
He wasn't gonna turn down your plea, if anything he was all for it. He tensed up, quickening his pace while you both made eye contact with eachother. The way you stared at eachother made butterflies go crazy in your stomach. Before you knew it, you both had leaned closer to eachother, sharing a passionate kiss that a father and a daughter shouldn't share, but you two were different.
It felt good, so it didn't matter if it was wrong or right.
You muffle moans into the kiss, slipping your hands away and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your legs naturally remain wrapped around his back as his thrusts gotten rougher and deeper while time passed.
Seconds later? You both are crying out moans into the long-lasting kiss, you made a mess all over the sheets and his cock that was twitching inside of you — filling you to the brim. This might've been the most he's ever come..
You both laid there, out of breath while you felt his weight ontop of you. His embrace was warm and it kept you at ease after the session you both shared.
"Ah.....I..I love you, angel."
He rasps out, nuzzling into your neck. You could feel his stubble scrape at your skin as you gazed at him with a faint smile.
"I love you too, daddy.."
You truly did replace your mother. You weren't his daughter anymore.
You were his wife.
#realdad!leon#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy smut#dead dove fic#dead dove do not eat#🕊️ — drabs
372 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Throwback Thursday, days turn into weeks, weeks into months, months fly by into years, hard to believe this pic is from 2013 . This kid is now only a little bit shorter than me. Where did the time go? 😞😞🤷🏾♂️ . . . . . #throwbackthursdays #throwbackthursdayyy #tbthursday #actorphoenixnicholson #reeltakesauditioncoaching #blackactors #realdads #blackdads #blackdadsmatter #dadgang #thedadgang #blackfathers #blackfathersmatter #blackfathersdoexist #fatherhoodrocks #fatherhood #fatherhoodislit #bestjobintheworld (at Los Angeles, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqI8HZIJVc9/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#throwbackthursdays#throwbackthursdayyy#tbthursday#actorphoenixnicholson#reeltakesauditioncoaching#blackactors#realdads#blackdads#blackdadsmatter#dadgang#thedadgang#blackfathers#blackfathersmatter#blackfathersdoexist#fatherhoodrocks#fatherhood#fatherhoodislit#bestjobintheworld
1 note
·
View note
Note
i got jealous when leon fucked ashley so i was wondering if you could do a little blurb of realdad! Leon x fem!reader
- 🫧
🫧 anon, hi!!! 👋
AHSJVL then it worked!! 🤭 I was hoping the jealousy would come across well or else it wouldn’t work 🤣
Have a little something 😉 18+ below the cut
“Dad, dad, ‘m gonna cum,” you whine, slumping forward into his chest.
“Cum for me then, sweetheart,” he coos, rubbing a hand down your sweaty back.
Shifting, you squeeze your thighs where they rest on the outside of his legs, arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders. He groans in his throat, cock kicking inside your snug pussy as he adjusts where he’s sitting on the couch.
“I’m really close,” you whisper against his neck, “feels so good.”
“I know, baby, daddy feels good, too,” he ruts up, cock grinding against your g-spot til you squeal and bounce on his lap.
“Was jealous,” you slur out, “don’t like you being with Ashley.”
He chuckles, hands dropping down to your hips to grip you tightly, “Aww she had a nice cunt though, sweetheart. And I didn’t know if I would ever get to stretch your pretty pussy out on my dick.”
Moaning, you scratch across his chest, “I don’t wanna share.”
“Maybe one more time,” he goads, “gotta compare your hot cunts just to make sure you’ve got the best, sweetheart.”
“No,” you whine, hips swiveling, “you’re my dad.”
He laughs outright, hips flexing as he thrusts up into your soaked pussy hard and fast. Your pussy flutters and clings to his fat cock.
“I am, and this daddy dick is all yours,” he bites your neck, “I just like riling you up, baby. You get so tight around me.”
“Daddy,” you mewl, drooling on his chest, “gonna cum for you.”
“Yes,” he hisses, hands grabbing the fat of your ass to help you fuck your cunt down on his dick, “cream my cock with that perfect, wet little pussy. Got the best hole I’ve ever fucked, sweetheart.”
72 notes
·
View notes
Note
can i have more realdad!leon x fem!reader? :3
NO 😡
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
[Fanfic! Ineffable Husbands]
Relación establecida.
Fluff.
Romance.
Crowley posesivo.
Aziraphale no es el mejor ejemplo de ángel.
Omegaverse.
Gamma Aziraphale/Delta Crowley.
Mmm, sí, lo sé, hace mucho que no escribo sobre estos dos, espero no haber perdido el toque 🤭...
* * *
Cosas curiosas ocurrían cuando la pareja de un Delta tenía contacto con cualquier persona desconocida, la mayoría de estas reacciones, para Aziraphale, se le antojaban graciosas en demasía. No le molestaban en absoluto los obvios celos y la posesividad latente de su Crowley, hasta cierto punto se trataban de emociones que nunca cumplirían sus amenazas y, siendo un Gamma además de un ángel, Aziraphale encontraba muy divertido provocar el humor de su demonio, además de saberse amado y poseído.
Haciéndose pasar por una simple pareja de un Omega y un Alfa, estando el ángel con el ánimo correcto, sin misiones qué cumplir en alguna otra parte del mundo luego de desastroso No-Armagedón y pocos deseos de distraerse en pasatiempos que no lo entretendrían de la misma forma, Aziraphale disfrutaba provocando a su Crowley, quien debería mantener la compostura, controlar su aroma dominante y la sobreprotección hacia su Gamma convertido en Omega. No tardó en hacer del juego de “fastidiar a Crowley” uno de sus favoritos al descubrir la rapidez con la que su amado sucumbía a sus maneras protectoras, en realdad, siempre aprovechaba de la mejor forma cada ocasión para poner a prueba la compostura de su demonio.
—Como puede apreciar, el encuadernado se mantiene intacto y las páginas, aunque ligeramente amarillentas… —decía el ángel a uno de los pocos clientes de la tienda. Obviamente no vendería el libro, ofertarlo, no obstante, al cliente que parecía más interesado en cerrar la distancia con él y apenas prestando atención al libro, lo convertía en el blanco perfecto.
Nada le pasaría al cliente, por supuesto, jamás habría seguido el juego si algún humano pudiera estar en peligro. Lo que buscó, y al parecer consiguió desde el primer momento muy efectivamente, sería colocar sobre él la atención del hombre pelirrojo y gafas de sol paseándose alrededor de la librería, fingiéndose entretenido, por casualidad, en algunos de los tomos sobre la santa inquisición. Aziraphale no rechazó el ligero avance del cliente, respondiendo a su pregunta con fingida inocencia, mantuvo sus manos sosteniendo la pasta dura y sobre las hojas del libro abierto. No sabía qué tanto podía ver Crowley, las dudas no lo detendrían.
—Me tienta, señor Fell, aunque el precio no logra convencerme —dijo el cliente, sus ojos no se apartaron del ángel, quien sonrió delicadamente al escuchar un tenue gruñido provenir de Crowley, el sonido tan silencioso que, de no ser un Beta, el cliente habría escuchado. Los dos clientes que deambulaban a través de la librería —dos Alfas Sangre Ligera— apenas parecieron oírlo, y sin prestarle mayor atención volvieron a lo suyo.
—Entiendo —no lo entendía—, el precio esta por encima de lo que podría encontrar en otros lugares, aun así, como ve, el libro ha sido casi perfectamente conservado; no hay manchas más allá de las que deja el paso del tiempo y la portada muestra muy bien uno de los trece errores ortográficos…
Sintió a Crowley deslizándose entre los libreros, acechándolo, amenazante a lo que el cliente intentara hacer. Vigilando y haciendo uso de su aguda percepción para con el entorno. Aziraphale sonrió, aquella emoción diciéndole que no debería sentirse tan correcto al ser cuidado a ese nivel ya no existía. Salvado del peso que allá arriba le imponían acerca de qué hacer con sus instintos Gamma o cómo limitarlos y superar alguna especie de prueba retorcida, se permitía libremente el paso de una descarga eléctrica recorriéndole la espalda cada vez que jugaba a molestar a su Delta. La vida, la diversión y la felicidad corrían por sus venas, añorando provocar a su querido demonio.
Demonio que poco a poco aumentaba el volumen del gruñido nacido desde el fondo de su pecho, aún no lo suficientemente alto para alertar sobre su estatus Delta ni para asustar a los Alfas presentes, el cliente Beta permanecía sordo a él. Aziraphale estaba casi ronroneando al oírlo, mucho le costaba mantener estable la suave curvatura de sus labios, la sensualidad inherente al juego o el hilo de la conversación. Lo soportaría, claro esta, no se trataba de la primera vez que jugaban ni el cliente Beta era el primero en coquetearle cuando resultaba tan obvio el aroma de Omega unido. Pronto, Aziraphale escuchó a Crowley dando cortos y cada vez menos separados gruñidos.
—¿Quizá haya alguna otra forma de convencerme, señor Fell? —preguntó el cliente en voz baja y ronca, sus ojos medio cerrados fijos en los del ángel, una de sus manos cayendo graciosamente sobre la que mantenía el libro abierto. Ya que Aziraphale no esperaba que el cliente hiciera su avance a esa velocidad, la incomodidad resultante le hizo retroceder y quedarse en blanco un segundo, momento que Crowley no perdió.
—¡Ángel! —llamó el demonio, sintiendo y oliendo el disgusto de su Gamma.
Su gruñido de advertencia se convirtió entonces en un rugido de verdad. Nada comparado al de cualquier Alfa o Zeta. Siendo además un demonio, el sonido hizo retumbar las ventanas y estuvo a un paso de cortar el servicio de electricidad, las luces tardaron un minuto completo en establecerse. Los Alfas presentes corrieron inmediatamente hacia la salida, olvidándose de lo que fueran a comprar, activados por completo sus instintos de supervivencia. Mismos que también hicieron reaccionar al Beta, aunque con resultados diferentes.
En tanto las rodillas de Aziraphale temblaban con el deseo reprimido de arrojarse a los brazos de su amado, sintiendo su protección y cariño entintados de preocupación por su bienestar, el cuerpo del Beta se estremecía de un terror tan profundo y primitivo que, de no ser por la alfombra, al desmayarse habría caído directamente al suelo. Ese hecho lo único que mantuvo al ángel en su lugar, pese a cada mimado y alegre sentimiento instándole a refugiarse en los brazos de su Crowley. Apenas logró contener un sonrojo al tiempo en que se obligaba a dirigir su atención al pobre cliente tendido a sus pies. Crowley se acercó a su lado, estudiando contemplativamente al cliente lo empujó con el pie.
—¿Esta muerto?
—¡Crowley! —reprendió el ángel, sin embargo, nada hizo contra el delgado brazo que le rodeó la cadera o la mano que comenzó a acariciarle el estómago suave—. Eso es muy grosero… Fue demasiado para el pobre querido. —Inclinándose un poco sobre el cuerpo, comprobó que todavía respirara y que no hubiera algún daño mayor en su cráneo. Los humanos tenían cráneos en extremo frágiles.
—No intentes defenderlo, ¿cómo se atrevió a tocarte? Ninguno de los otros idiotas había llegado tan lejos. —Aunque Crowley tenía razón Aziraphale no asintió. Despacio se separó de su demonio y caminó hacia la cabeza del cliente.
—Creo que es la primera vez que escucha a un Delta —susurró, preocupado. Acercando la mano a la mejilla pálida, un gruñido feroz a sus espaldas lo detuvo. Frunció el ceño—. Se terminó el momento para eso, Crowley, ahora hay una víctima.
—Lo dices como si pudiera controlarlo, solo… no lo toques mucho.
—Demonio celoso —dijo Aziraphale, medio sonriente, incapaz de rechazar a su amado.
—Ese es mi nombre.
—No —cantó, buscando el pulso del cliente y asegurándose de no encontrar alguna fractura en el resto de su cuerpo, listo para despertarlo al hallarlo saludable—, tú nombre es dulce corazón de chocolate. —Evitó darle a su Crowley un segundo para quejarse, chasqueando los dedos, trajo de regreso al cliente. Aun tomando en cuenta el actuar desvergonzado, Aziraphale no lo consideró justificación suficiente y, una vez el cliente logró sentarse, evocó de su cabeza una bonita memoria al borrarle el motivo de su desmayo—. Hola, bienvenido de nuevo, ¿tuviste un buen sueño?
—¿Qué…? Yo… ¿Si? —Con una mano Aziraphale le ayudó a levantarse.
—Cuidar de nuestra alimentación no es ninguna broma, si no lo hacemos bien en cualquier momento podemos perder la conciencia. —Crowley, cruzado de brazos, soltó un bufido.
—Sí, yo… últimamente me he saltado comidas y… Lo siento, señor Fell, creo que nuestro trato debe esperar.
—Por supuesto que lo hará —murmuró Crowley frunciendo el ceño.
—Oh, es una verdadera lástima… —dijo Aziraphale.
—No para mí —el demonio volvió a interrumpir por lo bajo.
—… pero es lo mejor. —Guio al cliente a soportar lo último de su mareo recargándolo en la pila de libros frente a él—. ¿Quisiera sentarse, tal vez mi esposo pueda traerle un poco de agua?
—Por favor, ángel, no estuvo a punto de morir, solo se desmayó. —Aziraphale confiaba en que el cliente estuviera lo suficientemente mareado para no oír las quejas infantiles de Crowley, quizás al ser un Beta lo percibiría como simples gruñidos.
—Estoy bien, gracias, debería irme a casa. Mi propio esposo me espera. —Crowley no ocultó su cara de sorpresa, reprendiendo en su interior el descaro del cliente.
Aziraphale lo guio, despacio y sin tocarlo, hasta la puerta, donde lo despidió tranquilamente antes de cerrar despacio, medio enojado; en su mayoría frustrado consigo mismo. Quedándose en su lugar frente a la puerta, se negó a mirar hacia Crowley en tanto los pensamientos de culpa rodeaban sus pensamientos. Sabía en el fondo de su pecho que el juego era peligroso, y no obstante, mucho le faltaba para darle impulso y detenerlo, no quería detenerlo. Cada afirmación de su Crowley diciendo cuánto Aziraphale le pertenecía significaba el mundo, una certeza absoluta como pocas cosas tendría alguna vez.
Cada muestra de celos, aunque irracionales, confirmaba que no importa si los de allá abajo o los de allá arriba decidieran alguna vez regresar y actuar en su contra, saber que pertenecía y pertenecería siempre a Crowley, que ambos defenderían su bando y harían lo que fuera necesario para estar juntos, le daba a Aziraphale una seguridad incomparable e indescriptible. Cimentaba su valor.
No importaba, al final, lo que se dijera o las verdades en las que confiara, ninguna excusa lo salvaría de su egoísmo, de ser un mal ángel.
—¿Me das un abrazo? —pidió Aziraphale, susurrando, todavía sin girarse. Crowley cubrió su espalda inmediatamente, sus brazos delgados le rodearon la cintura y labios cálidos surcaron sobre su cuello.
—Oye, cariño, esta bien. Prometo contenerme más la próxima vez. —Aziraphale no le creyó, tampoco le obligaría a decir la verdad. Dejándose caer contra el pecho delgado, se permitió ceder al encanto de los besos—. Soy inocente, después de todo, simplemente quiero ser claro en cuanto a lo que me pertenece. —Estremeciéndose, Aziraphale asintió suavemente, la voz susurrante y el tenue gruñido de su demonio atravesándole el corazón—. Nada de malo hay en eso, ¿verdad, mi ángel?
Al responder, Aziraphale reconoció que en su vida ninguna otra respuesta sería tan innegable.
—No, Crowley.
Y nada volvería a serlo.
* * *
¡Listo! 😚 Espero que haya salido mejor de lo que pienso y que te haya gustado, dime lo que opinas, ¿si? Creo que no fue tan OoC jajaa pero ya veré después cuando lo analice un poco más 😅
Eso es todo por ahora, perdón por las faltas de ortografía y esa clase de cosas que definitivamente voy a corregir en algún momento 😆
¡Muchas gracias por leer! 🤗
Te amoooo ❤💖❤💖
#ineffable husbands#aziraphel#crowley#good omens#omegaverse#aziracrow#aziraphalexcrowley#fanfic en español
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Analise Narrativa - Desafio de Escrita #2 - Cartas (CARTA PARA CARLA, escrito por EVELYN G. BRAGA)
Olá, como vão todos? Eu tardo, mas não falho. Finalmente chegamos com mais uma análise. Dessa vez, deixaremos em segundo plano os aspectos mais técnicos e nos focaremos na qualidade do texto e no que ele nos faz sentir.
Pare relembrar, as condições eram:
Regras
Tema: Carta
Requisitos:
Os textos têm que ter no mínimo trezentas palavras e não fugir do tema;
Vocês podem usar o tema que quiserem em suas cartas, podem ter mais de um tema ou conceito;
Não há limites para capítulos ou histórias;
Não há classificação etária para esse desafio;
Usar a hashtag #desafiodeescritadiario
Resumo da história, avisos, classificação e sinopse.
Sobre a história
O texto escolhido do mês foi do blog “Evely G. Braga”, um relato que envolve uma senhora e um casamento. Achei muito curioso e criativo. E muito bem escrito. Também gostei da capa, ela é simples, porém chama a atenção. Minha nota? Cinco estrelas, até mais se fosse possível.
Texto analisado: Carta para Carla
Analise
A primeira coisa a mencionar é que vamos abandonar a estrutura narrativa comum e suas convenções, já que essa não é a proposta desse desafio. Era sobre emoções e comunicar algo a alguém, e que não precisava ser exatamente uma pessoa real escrevendo para outra. E sendo um texto completamente subjetivo, vamos analisar de forma mais subjetiva, isso é, como esse texto nos fez sentir e seus pontos interessantes. E ainda assim, com tudo isso dito, é possível destacar seus aspectos narrativos.
Enredo
Ele é bem claro. É interessante como o autor na pele do personagem nos apresenta um texto curto, porém, direto ao ponto. Essa é uma carta em que “uma avó se recusa a ficar com os netos para poder viajar”. O enredo é bem colocado e, ah, o toque de comédia! Apenas de ler essa frase já fico interessada na história. Então, vão lá e deem um apoio á escritora!
Premissa e Tema
O que eu poderia dizer? É nítido como o cristal. É uma carta de desculpas, ou talvez, a avó nesse texto apenas esteja se explicando. Afinal, terão outros casamentos, não?
Estrutura Narrativa
É um micro conto! Um micro conto em forma de carta. Com toda a certeza. Tem um certo enredo, ele apenas é resumido em um formato menor e bem exemplificado. O texto é claro e conciso, sem deixar espaço para confusões mentais ou perguntas não respondidas; é direto ao ponto, nos dando aquela sensação de humor sarcástico e seco, o que eu tanto amo. Muito bom trabalho.
Personagens
Apenas vemos o ponto de vista da senhora que se nega a desfazer seus planos só porque a filha dela está se casando, porém, a personalidade dela, vontades e desejos estão muito bem definidos. Ela sabe o que quer e mesmo em um dia tão importante nada vai impedi-la. Gostei muito. E claro, retrata a realdade de muitas pessoas. Nota dez para credibilidade e verossimilhança.
Ambientação
Nesse caso não senti a necessidade além do que foi descrito no texto. Sabemos que a avó está viajando e que a filha está se casando, e como a ambientação não é o foco aqui, julgo ser bem empregada. Ou pelo menos é assim que gosto de fazer ambientações, curtas, concisas e funcionais. Gostei muito. Quando menos enrolação, melhor.
Gramatica, Ortografia, Estilo, fluidez, Clareza e Construção de Texto
Juntei todos esses aspectos em um lugar só. Porquê? Para mim eles devem andar juntos e como o texto é curto, vamos analisá-los assim. E digo mais, foi a minha parte preferida. O humor da história é bom? Personagens e enredo bem estruturados de acordo com a proposta? Com toda a certeza, mas a qualidade? Nada pode bater isso. Um texto bem construído onde cada pensamento, descrição e ação estão interligados com a escolha das melhores palavras possíveis? É isso o que me faz ler uma história até o fim. O que eu posso dizer? O texto fluí muito bem, e não há erros gramaticais. Prefiro ler um texto curto e bem escrito, a algo quilométrico e picotado, parecendo que alguém abriu o cérebro de alguém e jogou no papel tudo o que encontrou lá dentro. Se lembrem, escrever é fazer escolhas. Eu não sou a dona da razão, porém, esse texto foi bem pensado e melhor ainda executado.
Técnicas de Escrita
Técnicas? Bem… um texto bem redigido precisa de certa técnica. Usar o “contar” da forma certa, também. Conseguir montar uma história e desenvolver um personagem em tão poucas palavras requer estudo e prática, um grande controle sobre sua história e sobre a linguagem usada. Então, sim! Muito bem usadas. O que me resta dizer é: Evelyn, você com certeza sabe o que estava fazendo e deveria continuar assim, se for sua vontade é claro. Muitos cronista escrevem dessa forma, textos curtos, porém bem estruturados. Vale toda a pena. E eu ainda estou esperando o texto de natal, hein? Nunca é tarde. Brincadeiras a parte, foi muito divertido ler e escrever essa pequena critica. Espero ver muito mais textos no futuro. Quem gostou curte, compartilha e nos apoie no Patreon. E claro, leiam o texto da Evelyn! Até a próxima!
PS: Eu geralmente faço o trabalho de revisora também, mas nesse caso gostei tanto do texto que mexer nele me dá muito remorso. Ele tem uma personalidade toda própria e um ritmo único. Então, para mim, ele está perfeito do jeito que está. Bom trabalho!
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
RealDad!Damian
“Baby?” Damian calls out through the house. “Got somethin’ for you.” He stops at your doorway, realizing you’re not home and probably at work.
In his hand is a package, labelled with your name. He has a strong urge to open it but he knows it’s none of his business. Whatever may be in it, it would be inconsiderate of him to open your mail. Instead, he decides to leave it in your room for you for when you get off of work.
He walks through to your bedroom but halts as he eyes at the assortment of knick knacks you’ve collected. He hadn’t been in your bedroom since forever ago, yet it was like you never changed. Only difference was the mass quantity of plushies, and overwhelming amounts of pink. It was like a Toys R Us in there.
It partly made him happy to see. Especially all the stuff he had paid for. Not to mention, it meant you probably wouldn’t be bringing any boys over to his house.
One can only hope.
But as he places your box down atop of your dresser, his heart almost stops. A pacifier, clearly designed by choice. ‘Daddy’s little girl.’
What the hell was that supposed to mean? That his little girl was expecting? No way in hell that was happening. You were innocent. Never even mentioned a guys name to him once after graduating. You didn’t have time for a boyfriend anyway. You worked pretty much seven days a week to chip in on his rent.
Even though your room wasn’t adult like, you were. You knew better. So your father can’t at all wrap his head around what this could mean.
He wasn’t that old. Not old enough to be a grandfather yet at least.
The possibility of your pregnancy worries him sick. Even if the probability is low it’s still there. Or maybe he just can’t think of any other reason for you to have something like this in your possession.
He wasn’t about to wait until you come home to confront you about it.
He respected your privacy. You’re an adult. You can make your own choices and he can’t change that. But still, you’re under his roof which means he has a right to look through your belongings. It was your room, but your room was in his house.
That package had his address on it.
That gave him the authority to open it. He holds his breath as he does. He doesn’t even know what he’s expecting to find.
He doesn’t bother to open it neatly. His hands tear apart the plastic wrap, shakily pulling out the contents.
Simple skirt and thigh highs. And of course a suitable crop top. Not baby clothes or anything baby related.
They were in your size. But he still couldn’t make sense of it. You didn’t wear stuff like this usually. Unless you’re just trying to change up your style?
No. He had seen this somewhere before. The pacifier, the new set. It was in something he’d watched recently. A porn video that he shamefully got off to.
The post nut clarity from it hit him like a freight train. He felt like a complete sicko. Especially because the woman in the video looked a whole lot like you.
But surely this wasn’t related, right?
He rummages through the rest of your room to be sure, looking for anything out of sorts. His daughter wasn’t into things that that.
Wrong.
He remembers the login to your computer that just so happens to have a high resolution webcam attached. His suspicions were confirmed. You have several videos recorded of yourself. Solo, with that pacifier in your mouth in most of them. Your hand teases between your thighs, playing with your tits with the other.
Where you post these or what you’re planning on doing with them was beyond him. But he was less concerned about that and more concerned by the hardening of his cock as he watched your videos.
He was horrified by his own actions but he had never been this aroused in all his 40 some years. He pumps his fist rapidly over his tip, back arching off of your comfy little desk chair.
It almost hurt to touch he was so turned on. But he couldn’t risk leaving it alone. He needed that release.
He hated himself, felt so terrible for shooting his load all over your cute setup.
Maybe this was his fault. Maybe there was something fucked up in his genes and he passed it onto you.
You can’t really help what you’re into, can you?
But he was just looking for an excuse to make it feel okay. It wasn’t at all. You’re his daughter by blood. You’re just like him.
☽
He stuffs his dick back into his pants in a hurry, cleaning up the mess he made on your desk. He closes all the tabs, averting his eyes so he doesn’t make this mistake again.
He puts everything back the way it was before he barged in selfishly. But now that he opened your package, he knows you’re going to be upset with him.
The guilt hangs over him for the rest of the day. He sits and waits on the living room couch, staring into oblivion for hours, waiting on you.
What he was going to say to you, he didn’t know yet. Couldn’t think of anything to make up for his nosy habit.
The real panic sets in when you finally turn that knob, walking through the front door.
You immediately notice something is off with the atmosphere. Mainly because your father is waiting for you so late which he only does if something serious happened. And it’s clearly written all over his face. The man was terrible at hiding his emotions.
It doesn’t take long for you to piece it all together as you set your stuff down in your room. He thought he shut off the desktop, but he didn’t. Stupid old man didn’t understand technology and only put it to sleep. You knew for certain you shut it down fully the night prior.
“Why the fuck were you in my room?” you snap. Damian’s visibly thrown off by your tone.
“Don’t you raise your voice at me young lady,” he snaps back. But what right did he have to berate you for that when he did what he did.
He pinches the bridge of his nose with a stressed sigh, not at all wanting to have this discussion. “Listen, sweetheart. I just got a little concerned when I saw that pacifier. I thought-“
“It’s none of your business, dad.” you cut him off, tears flooding your vision. To say you were embarrassed was an understatement. You were painfully humiliated.
You wanted nothing more than to run and hide away forever. So that’s exactly with you did.
Before he gets another word in, you’re holed up in your bedroom and crying into your pillow.
It was always difficult, being on bad terms with your dad. He was your go to for everything. He was more like a best friend who you gossip with. So when the two of you fight, you don’t have anyone else to express yourself to — other than the mass quantity of stuffed animals inhabiting your bed. Even if you did, the reasoning behind it is something you wouldn’t dare tell anyone.
This was something you’d take to the grave.
Your stomach churns for most of the night. The fact that your dad found out about your little secret ruins your mind. How were you ever going to look him in the eyes again?
You weren’t able to sleep. Didn’t know if you’d ever be able to again. Your bedroom didn’t feel as comforting as it did before today happened.
There was only one other way you knew of that could help you.
You weren’t in the mood for it in the slightest, but you open your bedside door and get out your vibrator anyway. You fumble to take off your shorts and you drop it in the process.
Your heart leaps to your throat as it thuds on your floor, buzzing its way across. Should’ve waited to turn the damn thing on.
You just hoped your dad didn’t hear, or if he did that he wouldn’t pester you with his concern.
But that’s just Damian.
He rushes in as you’re half naked and half hanging off your bed, attempting to reach for the cause of disturbance. You pause mid reach, meeting his gaze.
He doesn’t even look away. Doesn’t attempt to avert his eyes or hide the way they linger over your exposed skin.
Only when you abruptly cover up with your blankets does he look into your eyes.
The room goes silent, other than the buzzing of your floorboards. You’re holding you breath, waiting for him to say something even though you didn’t really want him to.
He slowly approaches, bending over to pick up the toy. He looks it over, a smile creeping up on his expressionless face.
“What are you using this for, baby?” he asks, sitting beside you and turning it off. “You know daddy’s always here to take care of you no matter what.”
You look at him, puzzled. What was he suggesting? Your mind circles possibilities. You didn’t think he meant that.
“C’mere,” he beckons with his hand.
You don’t budge. You just stare at him, dumbfounded and unable to speak.
He makes up for it by scooting closer to you instead. He reaches to cup your face, making sure you don’t look away. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me. I wanna make things right with you.”
The look in his eyes for some reason makes you feel weak, something you shouldn’t feel while looking at your father.
Your lips part as you attempt to form words and you’re cut off by his own. He pulls you in from the back of your head, tangling his fingers through the underside of your hair.
The reasonable response would be to pull away, but you don’t. You let his tongue invade your mouth, and you don’t shy away as his hands wander down. You don’t even mind the prickle of his stubble despite it irritating your skin.
It ignites something in you.
You start to give back what he’s giving you and he guides you down onto your back. His body presses into yours as he hovers over top of you, his kisses growing sloppier by the second.
Moans spill out from you as his touch ventures beneath your cover. His thumb and forefinger find your clit, teasingly squeezing and pulling. Just enough to make you dizzy and needy for more.
“Why don’t we get you changed into that cute little outfit you bought?” he separates his lips from yours and his breath heats your face. “Daddy wants to see you all dressed up n’ pretty for him like in your videos.”
“But dad we shouldn’t-“
“Shhh…Just wanna make things up to you.” he leans back, giving you room. “Arms up, sweetheart. Daddy’ll help.”
You don’t fight on it. You raise your arms above your head allowing him to lift your shirt off.
He proceeds to dress you himself, helping you into your skirt, thigh highs and cropped shirt. Picture perfect, he thinks.
“Such a pretty little girl,” he looks you over, completely mesmerized. It was different from watching through a screen. You just simply looked better in person. And he was the lucky winner who actually got to have you.
From the way your face scrunches when he starts to push into you, he seemed to be the first. That made him all the more eager to take you. He bunches your skirt up past your waist and watches as he goes in.
As much as he hated seeing you hurting, the idea of taking his little girl for himself was overpowering.
“C’mon princess,” he groans, sinking his cock further into you. The stretch would be worth it in the end. “Halfway there. You’re being such a good girl, taking me so pretty.”
He moves slowly in attempt to make it easier on you. It hurt but it also didn’t. It wasn’t like any toy. Your dad’s dick was sturdy, warm. It was real and much larger than you imagined it to be, at least from the feel of it inside you it seemed to be. Even as wet as you were, it was a tight fit.
Eventually he bottomed out after what felt like forever. He stayed put, letting you take it all in. But you could feel him throbbing, see the way his eyes go half lidded every time you squeeze involuntarily.
You lift your hips, moving against him as a way of granting him permission to take things further.
At the green light, he starts to rut into you with no further concern for your discomfort. Even if he wanted to stop he couldn’t.
The head of his cock jabs into your cervix harshly, so much so that you’re worried about your bed frame falling apart.
“Feels funny daddy…” you sob out and his face turns ugly. Only took him a couple of minutes to finish. Your voice sounded too beautiful in that moment.
“I’m sorry, baby…” his entire body shudders, length pulsing as he bursts inside of you. He’s practically wheezing trying to catch his breath.
The weight of his body almost crushes you. He’s too worn out to hold himself up anymore or to be bothered with pulling out of you.
You’re a bit disappointed at how quickly things ended. The first time wasn’t as life changing as people made it out to be, but you were happy it was with someone you trusted. He wouldn’t leave you in the morning and never call you again. He was your father. You knew for a fact that he loved you. You didn’t have to doubt anything with him.
And this was only the first of many escapades.
· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·
From then on, you established a routine.
Part of it was filming.
Damian started spoiling you, treating you more like his girlfriend than his daughter. He paid for all of your outfits for your videos. So long as he got to be a part of it.
He plays the caregiving ‘role’ so well for all of it, making it known to your viewers who you belong to. No part of it was fake. All of your expressions, and cute little sounds were real, he made sure of that.
People seemed to love the shit. The whole paci deal, holding the stuffed animal he bought you for comfort as he bullies his cock into you. And your skirts and striped socks always stayed on.
You were perfect. Daddy’s little girl through and through.
Only nobody would guess he’s your blood relative. The title ‘daddy’ can mean a lot of different things.
Well regardless, Damian wasn’t ashamed of screwing his own daughter. More like he was proud of the whole ordeal. So much so that he had to ‘introduce’ you to a close friend.
Chris, the man you’ve interacted with countless times in the past at your father’s drinking getaways. That was only small talk, however.
There was no room for small talk now. Not with his fat cock stuffing your poor throat.
Your dad fucks into you from behind, jolting your body forward with each thrust and making you gag on Chris’ cock until you can’t breathe well enough.
It was for content, he insisted. He didn’t think he’d mind sharing.
Chris was his right hand man.
But the way he held your hand, talked all sweet to you, it made him sick. Pissed him off next level.
He didn’t even acknowledge how rough he was being to you and your sore cunt. You didn’t deserve to have his frustrations taken out on you. You did nothing wrong. Just did was daddy said like always.
Seeing you like this felt good for him too though. You tried your hardest to relax your throat, let it make that slushy sound you hear in those rough face fuck videos.
You were the star of this one.
“Make him cum, baby,” Damian urges. His hands keep tight hold on your hips, fucking you back on his girth so hard you couldn’t keep your beady eyes open for more than a second at a time. “Dirty fuckin’ girl…playin’ with two cocks at once.”
A rough palm smacks across your ass, making you yelp. Your throat tightens even more as you do.
“Fuck- take it easy,” Chris groans. He didn’t want to finish too quick. And Damian warned him of what would happen if he didn’t pull out of your mouth in time.
Tasted gross, he recalls you telling him. The only cum you’d swallow was your dads’. That was that.
With Damian’s hips continuing to forcefully slam into you, there was no way for you to pull away. You were forced forward, nose slamming into Chris’ mound.
It came leaking down your throat with no warning signs. At least this way, you didn’t have to taste it.
He pulls out, still fully hard but the man was only due for one turn. He replaces his cock with your trademark paci and you suck like crazy. You were too dumb to think about anything but sucking.
That’s what daddy said.
“Good job, baby…” his breath picks up but his hips slow. “So proud of you for following orders. We’ll have some special time later since you’re being so good for me.”
You only muffle out moans as your mouth is occupied, but he can tell how excited the pitch of special time got you.
Chris watches as Damian empties into you, stuffing in every drop. Made him wonder if he even cared if you got knocked up.
He wouldn’t be that surprised if that was what he was going for. Hell, there was probably nothing that could surprise him after all of this.
To watch his longtime friend fuck his own daughter wasn’t how he planned to spend his weekend. It wasn’t something he could bring himself to think about when your pretty lips were wrapped around him.
☽
“You sore, baby?” Damian asks and you lazily nod, curling up into his lap.
He takes a warm rag, cleaning the crusted liquids off from your puffy face. “I’ll make it all go away, alright? Just close your eyes and let dad make you feel better.”
“love you daddy,” you say, voice all broken and husky.
“Love you too babydoll,” he tucks you in closer to him. “Just get some rest now.”
0 notes
Text
La Dialéctica del Espíritu Absoluto
Cuando empiezas a indagar en la filosofía es cuestión de tiempo para encontrarte con Hegel, este filosofo alemán cuyo pensamiento ha dejado huella profundamente grabada en diversas áreas del conocimiento, poltico, social, est��tica, relgión, una concepción dinámca de la realdad y dialéctica, el desarrollo evolutivo lógico.
La base del pensamiento hegeliano es la idea del espíritu absoluto, la realidad es un proceso en constante transformación, cambio. Esta evolución tiene un combustible, el esíritu, que para Hegel es lo mismo que la razón.
La dialéctica de Hegel abarca 3 etapas fundamentales, tesis, antitesis y síntesis, el enfoque de esto es usar esto como método científico y comprender la historia del pensamiento humano.
La tesis representa el banderazo de salida, mientras que la antítesis es una pared frente a esta salida, la síntesis por su parte es una solución a salir corriendo sin estrellarte con esa pared, es la superación de la contradicción de la tesis y la antítesis.
Hegel consideró la historia como progreso hacia la libertad, hacia la autorealización, teniendo en cuenta a la sociedad y las instituciones evoluionando dialécticamente a través de conflictos y luchas, Hegel dice que cada periodo histórico contiene semillas que desarrollan el siguiente periodo, este proceso en algín momento llegará al "Espíritu Absoluto" que para muchos es la época contemporanea.
Si retomamos la ética y la moral de lo que he escrito en el pasado, podemos hablar del concepto de Hegel de "Sittlichkeit" o "eticalidad" donde el individuo encuentra la libertad verdadera al ver las normas y valores compartiidos por la sociedad el la que vive como algo "normal" para Hegel la moral era una auténtica expersión del ser humano como ser social, no solo un conjunto de reglas externas.
En la estética Hegel pensaba que el arte y la religión eran formas de expresión cultural que desarrollaban el espíritu absoluto en la busqueda del individuo de su autoconciencia y autorrealización.
Esta idea de entender el arte como un medio para comprender la verdad y la belleza a través de símbolos y metáforas de los artistas, es pura y absoluta filosofía Hegeliana.
casi dejo esto a medias jsjs menos mal me acordé de continuar.
1 note
·
View note
Text
...dad leon.... daaaaad leon.
DRUNK dad leon...
tw; incest & SUPER disturbing themes
He's got you pinned down to the bed, drunken rambles and the scent of booze was enough to make your nose burn. You tensed up, squirming around while using your hands to push them up against his chest in order to try and at least push him off
"Dad- get off of me..."
He's clearly ignoring you, groaning when you protested and made such a fuss and had gripped your wrists. His eyes narrowed to yours before scanning your whole entire body. He nearly drooled at the sight of you,
"I don't know why.." He paused, holding your wrists even tighter. He was scaring you at this point -- His actions were unreadable and it wasn't like you could read him anyways.
"Why I haven't done this a while ago when your mother kept denying me another child when you're right here..."
Your eyes widened, staring at him before you thrashed around. He's drunk, he doesn't know what he was talking about. He couldn't be serious. Right.. Right??? You were panicking and he just looked down at you - A poker face before he smirks, cheeks flushed a deep red while using one hand to hold your wrists together.
"M'gonna...Get that baby boy I've always wanted.."
He groans, using his free hand to unbuckle his pants while you squirm and cry. Not even that was stopping him. He was supposed to be your protector, your hero and he was doing the exact opposite. He was fucking deranged for an older man, you always avoided these types of men out in public but for it to be your father? You felt sick to your stomach.
"D-dad! You aren't thinking straight!"
You hissed at him while your tears were streaming down your cheeks. Still, he ignored while quietly muttering something about getting the son he's always wanted. Eventually he got his pants off and his boxers, letting his cock spring out free - Still drooling at the sight of you. You were perfect in his eyes.
Perfect for being the mother to his child.
_
Pan to a couple minutes later, you left so many scratches on his arms while he rocked his hips, hitting the deepest parts of your cunt that was slick with your fluids and his cum. You felt like it was all some kind of dream from how many times he managed to pull every single orgasm out of you.
"Finally cooperating? Goooood... Good girl~"
"You love your daddy's cock? You do. I know.. I know. I'll give you more."
"You're tearing up sweetheart.. Are those tears of joy?"
"This cunt was made for me and me only.. Mm.."
Hearing all of that on top of the many other things he said. Things truthfully had gotten worse since he had managed to snag some more drinks while fucking you. He'd pull you off his cock, taking swigs of the bottle while you were helplessly shifting positions so you could suck his cock that was a drenching mess. Or, he'd make you take some sips while eating you out.
He'd suckle your clit, sometimes pulling at it with his teeth and it sent shocks throughout your whole body. Tears streamed down your cheeks from every single thing he did. It was fucking gross but could it be helped? You were tipsy, he was already far gone. Daddy and daughter bonding some would say but take it to another level.
_
Eventually, you both grew tired. It couldn't go on for hours after all. It had to end at some point.. Before he put an end to it, he was buried deep in you. His cock remained deep in your core while you laid there beneath him with dried tears and saliva on your face. Your cunt ached in pain from all the fingering, eating out and fucking that had happened. What time was it even? Wasn't your mom coming back home soon from work? Shit, does your father even care? Leon was too busy blowing another load until you, forcing his cock to go deeper than it possibly could - And fuck did it hurt.
You wail out in pain, moving your hips with discomfort while feeling his cum fill you again. Your head was spinning and he was just there above you, pretty zoned out at this point. He was old after all and old men has their limits.. Limits he apparently pushed past this night for sure.
All this cause of your mother... You could've sworn you muttered something about it being her fault that your father got drunk in the first place and resorted to fucking his own daughter to get another kid -- but again, you couldn't recall much. You were too busy letting your mind ease out along with your body. Everything felt light as you laid there with him over you.
"Should be enough for get y'pregnant.."
He mutter's quietly before pulling out. A wet squelching noise was made as he pulled his cock back out and then he went on to laying with you. He remained above you still, rubbing his cheek against your neck. Leon did say a few things but you heard nothing but buzzing.
Probably processing the shit that was happening.. You thought about everything so much - you had eventually blanked out.
_
Days later? You're in the bathroom vomiting back to back. You didn't get a break from that bathroom for a while and Leon would sit there on the couch with the biggest grin on his face. He knew exactly what was happening. He was finally gonna get that baby boy he's always wanted.
#realdad!leon#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy fanfic#🕊️ — drabs
512 notes
·
View notes
Note
Am i the only one who wants part 2 of their fuck fest? as yn spends a week with realdad leon? 😵💫
Hiya anon! 👋
🙈 🙈 you’re probably not the only one, just the only one who’s said anything 😜 🤭
I’m halfway finished with the milestone fic with real dad (I’m hoping to get out this weekend but we’ll see 🫣) so there’ll be that at least lol
With enough inspo I might could swing a follow up for the week w/ real dad 🤭 but no promises!
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bathroom sound:
El celular empezo a funcionar mal.
El juego se manejó solo.
La musica empezo a decir que el ejercito "tenia o tiene" que intervenir en mi realdad virtual o real.
Ahora juega con la pulsacion de el touch del cellphone.
Esto empezo con mas frecuencia a partir de que separe las denuncias de abuso y acoso psicoligico.
A esto el bathroom dice:
"Molesta a ese marron" (racismo clasismo)
-Acualmente me tomó mas tiempo colocar esto ya que continua el acoso-
A esto me tuve que tapar los odidos del acoso del baño.
Esto empezó a frecuentar despues que dije:
No me caso
No me comprometo
Y demas afirmaciones.
El vive de manera humilde y lo unico que tiene para estabilizar su realidad es el telefono.
Juegan con su "poco tiene mucho nos detiene"
A esto la musica empezo hablar de mujeres que quieren terminos maritales.
NO a eso!
A todo esto.
Empezaron acosarme con ir a un "bar" y me llegó hasta un mensaje en ese momento.
Con una M
E imagenes de ir hasta ahi.
A esto el celular escribia la letra A.
Ya que representan la forma piramidal del dinero.
Este acoso continua constantemente y la venta psicologica de una hembra a la que no pretendo comprar ni mucho menos que se me acerquen.
A este comportamiento se escucha en la musica:
Es tu novia y es re hueca.
NO TENGO NOVIA NI MUCHO MENOS ACEPTO ESTE ACOSO.

Aca de nuevo:

Music say now
"Morís a policia"
Hablan de que porque quiero un haren antes de otra sicologia cristiana.
Funcionan de esta manera.
"Pivote"
Otra palabra utilzada por la musica con la representacion de "iraquí" en ellas.
Esto esta representado a una mujer que queria algo con el y lo mandó a que le hicieran esto.
Esta hembra esta calificada como "la arrepentida"
Y lo acosa constantemente por que le hizo o mandó hacer esto en su cuerpo.
Nota: en una accion en la que estaba eliminando un virus del celular.
Se escucha.
"En la busura donde su "pivote" va"
Esta hembra esta relacionada con codigos como: #hanna #britney #asiaticas mujeres de cabello negro.
De esta manera continuamente salen a la luz estas personas involucradas en la castracion del cuerpo.
Una roptura del "cordon" en la zona pelvica.
Music say:
"Los ametrallo con el ejercito"
"Se muere tu madre y (me hablan de que una mujer quiere entrar en mi vida"
Me inoculan esta "realidad" artificial como forma de vida.
Decreto que NO se me acerque esta clase de comportamiento mecanico ni automatico en mi vida.
Esta mujer o "A" estan involucrado en este asesinato o muertes en la vida de Victor.
Music say:
"Te dije que los hago llorar"
(Te dije): lo dice una mujer y cree que la cognicion es la misma. Crea con errores. Y se cree una continuidad y otros crean con este clan sicologico.
Bathroom say:
"A otro que se le muere la mamá"
0 notes
Text
Me dicen el matador, me están buscando.
Esta parecería ser la consigna del caricaturista Matador en su ronda de medios, luego de que El Tiempo decidió prescindir de sus servicios en una carta que resalta el compromiso de esa casa editorial con la campaña “No es hora de callar”, liderada con éxito por la reconocda periodista Yineth Bedoya.
El despido se da gracias a una publicación del abogado Abelardo de la Espriella con el que el caricaturista ha mantenido una guerra sin cuartel desde hace muchos años, y cuyo último capítulo ha sido un video en el que denuncia que Matador fue denunciado por violencia intrafamiliar por su actual pareja y madre de sus hijos hace más de 10 años. Sobra decir que esta publicación no fue consultada con la denunciante, sino que fue obtenida por el abogado para vengarse del caricaturista por su mencionada disputa. Es muy importante decir aquí que lo que hizo el abogado De la Espriella es reprochable, mezquino y revictimizante porque no se le consultó, ni se le pidió permiso a la víctima para hacer esta publicación. Esto ya ha pasado en otras ocasiones en las que periodistas y opinión pública parecieran no entender que el silencio también es un derecho de las mujeres que han sido víctimas de violencias basadas en género y nadie tiene derecho a pasar por encima de sus decisiones.
Pero regresemos a la ronda de medios. En las entrevistas posteriores a la denuncia y al despido, Matador ofreció disculpas y se mostró arrepentido de sus conductas asegurando que en esa época tenía un consumo problemático de alcohol y que ha podido controlarlo; pero pasó rápidamente a hablar de una “cultura de la cancelación” y una conspiración en su contra por parte de una sociedad que persigue y juzga sin derecho a réplica, e incluso habló de cacería de brujas en el medio Los Danieles. A estas entrevistas donde habló a sus anchas, se sumaron sendas columnas en su defensa por parte de Cecilia Orozco Tascón, directora de Noticias Uno y de Piedad Bonett, escritora, crítica de arte y columnista de El Espectador. En estas columnas, Cecilia y Piedad nos relatan una realidad paralela en la que los hombres son juzgados por la sociedad sin chance de defenderse, excluidos de sus posiciones de poder, expulsados de su familia, sin derecho al buen nombre o al reconocimiento y en el que se suicidan por cuenta de las denuncias por violencia sexual o intrafamiliar. Me imagino que en esta realidad paralela, la impunidad en casos de violencia sexual no es del 95%, ni la Corte Constitucional de tu país tiene que salir a actuar para proteger el derecho de las víctimas a denunciar en redes sociales -el escrache-. En esa realdad paralela personajes como Gerard De Pardieu, Woody Allen y Marlon Brando no trabajaron más, fueron despojados de sus premios y sus víctimas fueron reparadas; tampoco volvieron a jugar fútbol Sebastián Villa y Neymar por denuncias de violencia machista y los políticos acusados de acoso y abuso han salido de la escena pública y viven vidas desdichadas y solitarias, pensando siempre en suicidarse, claro.
Superando el sarcasmo, no vimos que en ninguna entrevista, ni en las dos columnas, se hablara de las constantes caricaturas misóginas, racistas y homofóbicas de Matador y que han suscitado nuestro rechazo desde hace casi una década. Ni de su renuencia a retractarse o siquiera hacer un ejercicio de reflexión. Para las columnistas y para la prensa tradicional es más fácil el relato de que ahora no se puede hacer, ni decir nada porque ya es abuso, ya es racismo, ya es homofobia. O mejor aún, que como las denuncias son de parte del uribismo más recalcitrante -que protege abusadores-, hay que salir a denunciar los intentos de censura por parte de los medios cercanos a este. También es mucho más fácil y menos problemático aceptar el relato de que hay una sociedad demasiado sensible, inmadura, consentida y quejetas, que no aguanta los debates y que está constantemente tratando de cancelar cualquier cosa que les molesta. No es casualidad que evaluen de esa misma forma a las nuevas generaciones que valientemente han denunciado violencias basadas en género, racismo, capacitismo, homofobia y transfobia que han sido secretos a voces en las instituciones de educación, por ejemplo.
Sobra decir que el abogado aspirante a ícono de la moda, instrumentaliza estas luchas para su beneficio, desdibuja el propósito de la denuncia e invisibiliza la decisión de la víctima, pero tampoco ayuda a nadie que sus colegas se solidarizaricen de manera genérica y acrítica, creando un ambiente aún más hostil para quienes quieren denunciar violencia basada en género.
Finalmente quienes siempre pierden son las mujeres que se atrevieron a denunciar.
0 notes
Text
Made it home looking for fun #realms #newme #realdad #needaprincess #southernoklaoma #medtexas
0 notes
Photo
Claudia Raia - Homem Transgênico (homem com genética modificada).
Claudia Raia é homem transgênero (homem geneticamente modificado). Igual o filme do Arnold Schwarzenegger - Junior, em que ele engravidou.
Isso é mais antigo que antes da internet. Antes da internet isso já corria pelo Brasil. Mas era entendido como "lendas urbanas", hoje tem outro nome - Teoria da Conspiração.
A ficção imita a realdade. Não existe criatividade na indústria do entretenimento. Tudo que a indústria produz, são alegorias fazendo alusão a realidade.
Não acreditem na mídia! A Mídia mente! Só observar o que eles fazem com o Bolsonaro, para ter o entendimento que não é improvável de acontecer o que escrevi.
#Claudia-Raia#Transgênico#Homens-Transgênico#Lendas-Urbanas#Teoria-da-Conspiração#Ficção#Alusão#Alegoria
1 note
·
View note
Text
Gallant. V.E. Schwab
Genero: Fantasía, joven adulto, horror, ficción, gótico.
Voy a ser sincera, solo compré el libro porque amo como escribe V.E. Schwab, no tenía ni idea de que trataba el libro, pero ahora lo sé.
Gallant nos cuenta la historia de Olivia, una chica de 16 años que vive en Merilance, una escuela para chicas independientes, es decir chicas que fueron abandonadas por sus padres, ya sea por elección de ellos o porque murieron y o había nadie para cuidar de ellas.
Olivia tiene una sola pertenencia de su madre, un cuaderno que tiene escrito en sus hojas mensajes pero que no van dirigidos a ella, sino a un segundo. También hay dibujos que parecen más manchones de tinta que dibujos, Olivia no sabe bien que representan, pero atesora ese cuaderno por ser la única conexión a una familia que tiene. Hasta que un día llega una carta a Merilance de parte de su tío pidiendole que vaya a la casa failiar, Gallant. El problema es que en el cuaderno de su madre al final hay una carta que si esta escrita para Olivia, en ella la madre le pide que se mantenga alejada de Gallant, que va a estar segura siempre que ella no vaya para allá.
A pesar de la carta de su madre Olivia decide aceptar la carta de su tío e ir a Gallant, pero cuando llega se entera de unas verdades y una de ellas es que su primo no quiere nada que ver con ella, no quiere que este ahí y si no hubiese sido el momento del atardecer lo más probable es que la hubiese echado de su casa. En Gallant Olivia entiende cosas de ella misma, aprende sobre la historia de su familia y entiende lo que significa ser parte de ella. No importa que su primo no la quiera cerca, no importa que no las cosas sean raras ahí y mucho menos importa lo raro que es el mundo una vez que se cruza el muro y aparece un nuevo Gallant, una casa que es pero no es Gallant.
Una vez que empecé a leer el libro me acorde de las clases de literatura, de cuando nos explicaron el género gótico y sus características y me tomé el trabajo de ver si me acordaba las cosas y si el libro las seguía. La historia es gótica, tiene sus tintes de misterio y oscuridad, los sucesos suelen pasar en lugares oscuros o que tienen cierto toque incomodo para el personaje, hay cosas que no se pueden terminar de explicar con lógica, que solo pasan.
La historia es interesante, es ligera de seguir y algo que me pareció muy interesante es que Olivia no puede hablar, y sin embargo, no es algo que se eche de menos o que se vea forzado, es solo una característica del personaje.
Si siento que tal vez el final se le hizo un tanto sencillo a Olivia, pero a la vez es algo que siento es entendible, se dio cuenta de las cosas y las uso a su favor. Girlboss energy.
Mencionaría a los demás personajes, pero la realdad es que no me interesan lo suficiente, su primo tenía sus razones para tratarla como lo hacía, pero de todas formas no logro ganarse un lugar en mi corazón. Por otro lado los empleados si me daban ternura, pero no la suficiente como para dedicarles un párrafo entero contando como eran y que me parecían. Todos los demás personajes tienen la misma justificación que los anteriormente mencionados.
Al único que puedo llegar a querer mencionar es al señor de la casa, el que vive en Gallant que no es Gallant. Él es nuestro personaje al que no debemos querer y a pesar de su descripción física, que por lo general logra que todas caigamos solo por ser así, no es alguien al cual quiera defender, es un personaje creado para darle un sentido a la historia y darle movimiento. Algo pasa y es gracias a él y por eso lo quiero, pero después de eso no me interesa.
El libro tiene el mismo titulo en ingles y en español, yo lo compre en la feria del libro así que no sabría el nivel de ingles que tiene.
1 note
·
View note
Last Seen Blogs
amayawrites-blog
Destiny of an Azurine
allrevvedup
Multifandom Hell
littleduckdudee
a very silly guy
dubndope
DUB & DOPE
meitantei-lavi
The Big Gay Nerd