#glamour brazil

[myfloatingrock]

Alamada Bidiandé, Isabelle Silverio and Gaia Rudmyla photographed by Thais Vandanezi for Glamour Brasil October 2023

[bioluminescencia]

American-inspired Airbnb in Brazil

more of my travel photos here @bioluminescencia

[vivalahilton]

rio de janerio in the 70s

[mynicosensesaretingling]

hi, I saw your latest Nico fic and I finally have the courage to request cuz I guess your requests are open

can you write something in the 2016 prize giving ceremony setting? some cute moments were him and reader are talking and giggling and its caught by the cameras, and when giving his speech after receiving his trophy he mentions some cute moments of him and reader racing related, and for the end can you write smth abt that one pic were his taking a photo of his trophy while in the car and reader is beside him? some moments between them interrupted by their chauffeur?

love your writing and thank you, there's no Nico Rosberg writers out there 💔

A Celebration of Hearts

Nico Rosberg x fem!reader

note: thank you so much for your request, I really enjoyed coming up with a story for this one!! (I just assumed this was for a fem!reader , but if I am wrong please tell me and I’ll adjust the pronouns!! ) And it’s my absolute pleasure to serve content for all my fellow Nico enthusiasts <3 i hope you enjoy the story , all the love to ya!

——

The 2016 Prize Giving Ceremony was an evening of glamour and celebration. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as the faces of the motorsport world gathered to honour the year's champions. Among the attendees was (Y/N), a relatively new journalist who had struck up an unexpected and endearing friendship with Nico Rosberg over the past season. Nico, having just announced his retirement days earlier, was the man of the hour, ready to collect his well-deserved World Champion trophy.

As the ceremony progressed, (Y/N) found herself seated at a table near the front, with a clear view of the stage. Given the circumstances, the evening was already a memorable one, but it became even more special when Nico walked over during a break.

"Hey," Nico greeted her, a warm smile lighting up his face as he came to a halt beside her chair.

"Hey yourself, Mr. World Champion," (Y/N) replied with a grin, craning her neck to look up at the blonde. "How does it feel to be on top of the world?"

Nico chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Surreal. But seeing a friendly face makes it a bit more real."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh, so now I'm just a friendly face? Last time I checked, I was the journalist who nearly outsmarted the World Champion at the Hungarian Grand Prix."

Nico laughed, shaking his head, before looking down at her again. "You really did give me a run for my money. I think you missed your calling as a strategist."

"Maybe," she replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Or maybe I'm just good at keeping you on your toes."

"Mission accomplished," Nico said with a grin, casually plopping down on the sear next to her. "I never knew where you'd pop up next."

"That was the fun part," (Y/N) admitted, a mischievous glint in her eye, as she turned her body to fully face Nico. "Like that time in Brazil when we got caught in the downpour. I don't think I've ever seen you run so fast."

"Hey, I had to protect my hair," Nico retorted, running a hand through his perfectly styled locks. "But I do remember us squeezing under that tiny umbrella. I think I ended up more wet than dry."

(Y/N) laughed, nodding. "We both did. But it was worth it for the conversation we had. I think that's when I realized you're not just a champion on the track."

Nico's smile softened, a touch of warmth in his gaze. "Thanks, (Y/N). That means a lot coming from you."

The pair talked and giggled, sharing light-hearted banter and recalling moments from the season. At one point, Nico leaned in to whisper an amusing anecdote about a mix-up at the Japanese Grand Prix, causing (Y/N) to burst into laughter. Unbeknownst to them, cameras were capturing these candid moments, broadcasting their genuine connection to the world.

As the evening wore on, the time came for Nico to take the stage and accept his trophy. He rose from his seat, giving (Y/N) a quick, reassuring squeeze on her shoulder before making his way to the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Nico began, holding the trophy aloft. "This season has been a dream come true for me. It's been a year of hard work, dedication, and unforgettable moments."

He paused, his gaze finding (Y/N) in the audience, and smiled. "I want to share a few personal moments that made this year so special. There was a time at the Hungarian Grand Prix when (Y/N) here – yes, our very own journalist – and I had a little race of our own. She was determined to get an exclusive interview, and I was equally determined to avoid it until after qualifying. It turned into a hilarious game of cat and mouse, and I have to admit, she nearly outsmarted me."

The audience chuckled, and (Y/N) felt her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

Nico continued, "And then there was the time at the Brazilian Grand Prix when we got caught in a sudden downpour. We ended up huddled under a tiny umbrella, talking about everything from racing strategies to our favourite movies. To me, those are the moments that make this sport so incredible – the unexpected friendships and shared experiences."

With a final nod to the audience, Nico concluded his speech and made his way back to his seat, where (Y/N) greeted him with a beaming smile, a blush still decorating her cheeks.

"You did great up there," she whispered, nudging him playfully.

"Thanks," Nico replied, leaning closer. "I was just trying to impress a certain journalist.”

"Oh, really?" (Y/N) teased, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought you were just being modest."

Nico leaned towards her, attentive eyes sparkling with mischief. "Modesty isn't really my style, you know that."

(Y/N) chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "No kidding. But I think you pulled it off tonight."

As the ceremony concluded, they made their way out of the grand hall, the evening's excitement still buzzing around them. The cool night air was refreshing as they stepped outside, Nico's hand lightly resting on the small of her back as they navigated through the crowd of people.

"So, what did you think of the speech?" Nico asked, glancing at her with a curious smile.

"It was perfect," (Y/N) replied sincerely. "Heartfelt, honest, and with just the right amount of charm."

Nico's grin widened. "I'm glad you think so. I was worried I might have gone a bit overboard."

"No, you were just right," she assured him, her eyes twinkling. "And trust me, I would tell you if you were too much."

"That's what I like about you," Nico said, his tone softening. "You always keep me grounded."

Blushing yet again, (Y/N) redirected her gaze onto the dimly lit sidewalk in front of them.

Continuing their walk in comfortable silence, it didn’t take long until they reached Nico's car, a sleek black Mercedes, waiting for them by the curb. As they slid into the back seat, (Y/N) felt a flutter of nerves and excitement. The atmosphere was charged with a newfound intensity, their playful banter giving way to something deeper, something she had felt, but never acknowledged before.

"So, what's next for the great Nico Rosberg?" (Y/N) asked, her tone laced with teasing sarcasm, as she settled into the plush leather seat beside the blonde.

Nico pondered for a moment, lips forming a slight pout and his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. "Well, after this whirlwind of a year, I think I deserve a break. Maybe some time off to travel, spend time with family, and... see where life takes me."

(Y/N) nodded, a gentle smile on her lips as she found herself touched by his openness. "That sounds wonderful. You definitely deserve it."

Nico turned to her, his gaze unexpectedly intense. "And what about you? Any big plans now that you've conquered the world of motorsport journalism?"

A soft huff escaped her lips. "Conquered is a bit of an overstatement. But I do have a few exciting projects lined up. Maybe even a book someday, who knows."

"I'd read it," Nico said earnestly. "You've got a way with words, (Y/N)."

A comfortable silence settled over them once again, as the car glided through the city streets. Nico reached for his phone, raising it to capture a photo of himself with his trophy perched on his lap. (Y/N) decided to lean in, her head close to his, both of them smiling for the impromptu selfie.

"Perfect," Nico said, lowering his phone. Twinkling eyes still focused onto the picture. "I want to remember every detail of tonight."

As they settled into the ride, their conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared memories.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Nico asked, a playful glint in his eye. "You were so nervous."

"I was not!" (Y/N) protested, laughing. "Okay, maybe a little. You were Nico Rosberg, after all."

"And you still are," she added, her tone turning sincere. "But now I know you're also the guy who runs from rain and takes goofy pictures with his trophy."

Nico chuckled, nudging her shoulder. "Guilty as charged. And you’re the journalist who somehow manages to make every moment memorable. Even though I am still not sure how you managed to sneak into my life like that."

Their chauffeur cleared his throat, and Nico glanced at him in the rearview mirror, then back at (Y/N). "Sorry, we were lost in our own world for a moment."

"Understandable," the driver replied with a knowing smile. "It's nice to see you so happy, Mr. Rosberg."

Nico's eyes met (Y/N)'s, a mischievous glint returning. "Well, I've got good company to thank for that."

(Y/N) felt her blush deepen, but she couldn't help but smile back. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Nico."

"Is that so?" he murmured, leaning a bit closer. "Maybe I should try it more often."

"You might just get away with it," she replied, their faces inches apart.

Nico's gaze flicked to her lips before he pulled back slightly, the tension between them palpable. "You know," he said casually, "I never did properly thank you for all those interviews and articles."

"Oh?" (Y/N) tilted her head, curious. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"How about dinner? Tomorrow night," Nico suggested, his voice low and inviting. "Just the two of us. No cameras, no interviews. Just... us."

(Y/N) felt her heart race at the invitation. "I'd like that," she replied, her voice soft.

"Great," Nico said, his smile widening. "It's a date."

As the car pulled up to her hotel, Nico helped her out, their hands lingering together a moment longer than necessary. (Y/N) felt a mix of anticipation and reluctance to end the evening.

"Thank you for everything tonight," she said, her voice sincere. "I had an incredible time."

Nico's smile was warm and genuine. "The pleasure was all mine. I'm really looking forward to our dinner tomorrow."

(Y/N) nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement. "Me too. I’ll see you then, Nico."

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes reflecting the same anticipation she felt. "Goodnight, (Y/N). Sleep well."

With a final squeeze of her hand, Nico watched as she entered the hotel, her silhouette disappearing through the revolving doors. He leaned back against the car, exhaling deeply. This night had been more than he ever expected.

[femalestunning]

LAUREN JAUREGUI Glamour Brazil | April 2024

[akindplace]

List of famous Brazilian songs that have changed me in ways I can’t even explain and I think you should give a listen to and be changed forever too

Carcará - João do Vale e Chico Buarque

Elza Soares - Espumas ao vento

Elza Soares - A carne (a song criticizing systemic racism

Chitãozinho e Xororó - Evidências (this is a country love song that is so ridiculously famous that most people know the lyrics. it’s camp and it’s iconic and it’s a vibe)

Caetano Veloso - Você não me ensinou a te esquecer (this song always makes me tear up and it’s just… beautiful but incredibly sad, about the impossibility of forgetting someone you love and lost. so much grief)

Elis Regina - Como nossos pais (she had such a great voice) “I feel everything in the living wound in my heart” “my pain is realizing that even though we did everything, we are still the same and we still live just as our parents” (it’s quite a political song too, criticizing the dictatorship that was in power since 1964 and was implemented with support from the usa - many people who were brutally murdered haven’t been found to this day)

Cazuza - O tempo não para “in cold nights it’s better to have never been born, in the hot ones you have to choose between killing and being killed, they call you a thief, queer, stoner, turn the whole country into a whorehouse so they can make more money” - yes this song is also political

Mc Marcinho - Glamourosa

To end this on a song that is not political in itself but from a genre created in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro, so a very political genre that often criticizes racism and politics in Brazil, called funk. This song is about a glamourous woman who is the queen of funk and also dances really well

Unfortunately will not be accepting any criticism in my music taste but will be accepting any additions by Brazilians telling me “why did you forget x, y, z” please add to the post your favorites, love you, bye

[modelsof-color]

Ildjima by Pedro Napolinario for Glamour Brazil Magazine July 2022

[leighpinnocx]

Leigh-Anne for Glamour Brazil!

[angesauxailesroses]

Mirror Palais ˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Mirror Palais is a womenswear pre order brand founded in 2019 by Marcelo Gaia. Marcelo Gaia is a designer,born of immigrant parents from Brazil and raised in Queens by his mother only .He started pursuing his passions professionally at Wood Tobe-Coburn for design and interning with stylist Lester Garcia during 10 years .He never thought he could actually become a designer because he thought that designers were really wealthy people and were really good at sewing and he was neither.Before Mirror Palais,Gaia had a brand named Rosemilk in 2018 with one of his friend. Mirror Palais is sort of an continuation of Rosemilk.On the Mirror Palais website,it is written that Marcelo Gaia created Mirror Palais with the mission to celebrate the confident women who inspire him. Mirror Palais’s pieces are so unique that you instantly know that it was created by Marcelo.You can see in every dresses,skirts,corsets,…the love for women and their beautiful body.Gaia is heavily inspired by the 80s,his pieces give a feeling of nostalgia of our inner child and makes you feel beauitful and confident. Gaia says: "I am super inspired by my Brazilian heritage.Both of my parents are immigrants that came here in the mid-1980s. Growing up in a Portuguese colony in Brazil, there's this interesting mix of old Europe, but the finishings and the overall execution has this kind of tropical feeling to it.”.He also use a lot of Catholic symbols in his creation.,a way for him to reclaim his religion.

Mirror Palais grew as one of the most adored brand by celebrities and famous brand on social media in just a few years thanks to Marcelo’s talent and his amazing creative vision in his campaigns/photoshoot that are all over pinterest and are absolutely stunning.But there is a lot of discussion about the prices of his creation,in witch Gaia respond often saying that being a fashion designer in New York is hard and that every single one of his pieces is made with so much love,care and time with true materials like vintage and deadstock fabric,"I've been so fortunate to create, but for other people who have this dream that is not as fortunate, it's just scary and there isn't a lot of support", he said. Mirror Palais is an ethical brand that cares a lot of quality and that is why it’s so hard to be a financially stable brand.Gaia also tries to minimizes Mirror Palais’s carbon footprint by making and designing all of the brand's clothes in New York City only with the help of his 11 full-time employees.

Mirror Palais has,as of now,five collections :

🪽 The Return of Glamour ( 32 pieces)

🪽 Forever Yours ( 26 pieces )

🪽 I Fall in Love Every Spring ( 32 pieces )

🪽 Laces and Silks (21 pieces)

🪽 Jungle Story (23 pieces )

Mirror Palais has,as of now, four campaigns :

🪽 Spring Summer 2024

🪽 Return Of Glamour

🪽 iNAMORATA e Mirror Palais

🪽 The Bridal Story

Mirror Palais to me,is about woman.About their beautiful body and their unique body.This brand worship woman and i can’t help but dream of one day wearing Gaia’s design.Mirror Palais is one of my favorite brands.Those pieces make me dream,and gives me nostalgia of places i have never been,Mirror Palais made me travel.If i wasn’t already in love with fashion,THIS brand would have make me fall in love.It’s just so romantic and unique and mesmerizing.I love every single pieces ever made and i can’t wait to see more.I hope to be as talented as Gaia and give the same feeling to people,the feeling of adoration,love and confidence.To make them feel beautiful the way Mirror Palais creation makes me (without even wearing it),and so many other woman, feel beautiful.This brand gives a beautiful message.

(PS : I hope i get married wearing Mirror Palais one day).

[loveforlandonorris]

🎤 Lando at the Drivers' Press Conference before the Las Vegas GP:

(When the press con aired, they only showed the individual interviews with each driver and the first journalist question, the rest in the transcript I don't have a video of to post. And I trimmed the video so it just has Lando's 1-on-1 interview and his first question. I would have split them up but Tumblr only allows one video per post, so at the end of Lando's interview, it jumps straight to his first question from the journalists)

Transcript:

Interviewer: Lando, coming to you now. So that Netflix Cup yesterday, beaten by Carlos. Fair result?

Lando: Oh, yeah. Yeah, was just, it was a good day out, to be honest. Yeah, nice to meet some of the guys. Obviously, I had Rickie and Rickie was… it was nice to meet him for the first time. You know, I've watched a lot of these guys on a lot of weekends over the last couple years. So, it's always cool to meet someone of their talent and ability and from another sport. So, a nice day out for everyone (smiles).

Interviewer: And can you give us your thoughts about racing here in Las Vegas? How different does it feel for the drivers?

Lando: (Smiles) I don't know. I guess it feels a little bit different, just... night race and a lot of glamour and all of this stuff. But inside it's just another race weekend. So yeah, concentrated and focused for the weekend ahead. Opportunities for everyone because it's so different and a lot of question marks for everyone. So yeah, plenty of things to try and prepare for and be ready for – but also, with FP1, FP2 and FP3 a bit more time than what we've had the last few weekends with the Sprint races, to get our heads on things and making sure we're prepared before Qualifying.

Interviewer: Opportunities and question marks, as you say. Just how confident are you for McLaren?

Lando: I don't like this question anymore. (Smiling) Like, I'm always wrong, whatever I say so…

Interviewer: But 4 podiums in the last 5 races, that's... you’ve got some form.

Lando: No, absolutely. I think… I'm very pleased with how... extremely pleased with how we've done the last few weeks, especially Mexico and Brazil were a a big chunk better than we were expecting. Especially Brazil, you know? To be so far ahead of the majority and close to the Red Bull through a lot of the race was definitely not something we were expecting. So it's a tough one, you know?

This will remind you a little bit more of Baku and Monza-type races, which weren’t our best, and definitely towards the weaker side. You know, there's the long straights and low downforce is not where our priority has been this season with developments and all of those things, because there's so few races like it. So, yeah, maybe not as confident as where we have been the last few weekends, but no idea at the same time (smiles).

Interviewer: Personal goals for you. You're just 3 points behind Fernando in P4 in the Drivers’ Championship…

Lando: Yeah (smiles).

Interviewer: Can you overhaul him? How much confidence have you got in beating Fernando?

Lando: Again, no idea. It depends how we do this weekend. Depends how they do.

Interviewer: How much do you want to?

Lando: (Laughs) How do I...? I don't know, I don't know how to answer it. It's not something I think of, you know, just trying to go out and beat one driver. You just go out and do the best job you can, and get the most points you can. So, simple as that in my eyes. But if we can race against each other, I think it'll be something fun, something enjoyable.

Obviously he had a good weekend last time out in Brazil and was our next closest challenger, so always gonna be a good fight against him. But there's plenty of other guys who are in the fight, you know? Carlos is there and someone else… who else we racing against? Was it just us three? Just us three? I don’t know, to be honest (smiles). But we’ll just go out and have some fun (smiles).

Interviewer: Very good luck to you.

Journalist Questions:

Q1 (Sam Johnston – Sky Sports) Question for Fernando and Lando. Does the track this weekend and kind of all the unknowns, do you think, make Max particularly vulnerable? And obviously both of you are looking to kind of… Lando’s looking for his first win and Fernando, you’re looking for your first win in a long time. Would it be particularly special to do it at the first race in Las Vegas, or could, kind of, unforeseen circumstances make it feel less special?

Interviewer: Who'd like to start? Lando, you've got the mic.

Lando: I'd just like to win, I don’t really… (smiles) It doesn’t matter where. But you don’t do anything different, because it’s Vegas, to try and win, you know? I guess I’ve been doing my best, since I started Formula 1, and your time comes eventually, but that’s about it.

What was the first part of the question? Oh, Max. Yeah... maybe? I mean, if you look back to Monza, he was way quicker than everyone, pretty much so… Could be another Singapore-style type thing, but unlikely. So, I don't know. There’s just a lot of guessing and there’s no point guessing. (Smiling) I know you just wanna, yeah, get us to say things but… could be, there’s always a chance, there's some possibilities. And small chances of rain, things like that maybe always play into your hands at certain points – but it can go any way.

Q2 (Andrew Benson – BBC Sport) This is for Carlos, Lando and Fernando. What do you feel about the balance between sport and the show this weekend? How different do you think it is from normal, and how do you feel about the disruptions to your normal schedule during today, some of the requests that have been made of your time?

Lando: I don't have a lot more to add [than Carlos' answer], to be honest. I think Carlos said it pretty well. I mean, it's definitely more of a show now than what it was a few years ago. To be honest, I just want to come here and drive and come here and race. Never been the biggest fan of doing these types of things like we did earlier. It's not what I enjoy doing.

I know a lot of this stuff is just part of it and I'm not saying anything against it, but yeah, I do this job because I want to come and drive and race cars and things like that. And I don't simply enjoy… I've never been the biggest fan of doing these types of big events and shows and things like that. So yeah, but I guess it’s part of the job and it's a business and all those things. And that's how it has to run in the end of the day. So yeah, that's it.

Q3 (Kevin Scheuren – Motorsport-total.com) [Everyone is asked about jet lag]

Lando: I think it's always been in F1. Of course, it's a big shift and stuff like that. But I'm alright. I'm still young, thankfully. I'm a bit older now but compared to this guy right here [Fernando].... Maybe he struggles a little bit more than I do with not getting eight hours in. But yeah, we all have to do the same things.

[snaillamp]

Chapter 2 - Holy Shit

Keh-yah’s mind was reeling as he desperately tried to recount what he could remember. He listened to the priest mumble something and walk away as he pulled his knees closer to his aching chest. The holy water had left a dull ache throughout his whole body, but his chest was the worst.

All he could remember was falling through the portal, manifested by less than the last of his strength, and desperately searching for somewhere to hide. He was more than drained, hardly able to stand and that damned arrow. It had fallen out in the chaos but it was already too late, the damage was done.

The storm he had apparently entered froze him as he limped along the empty road surrounded by nothing except expansive fields of some kind of golden plant, perhaps wheat. He had no idea which country he was in, It could be Russia, Brazil or India and he wouldn’t have a clue. After what felt like an eternity, he had reached the small town, following the main road into the centre of the settlement, glancing at the houses, all darkened.

The night was dark, moonless and the rain made it hard to see, perhaps a blessing in disguise in a way. Using the last of his strength, he felt his body morph slightly, into that of a more acceptable human appearance. Perhaps he be more likely to be assisted.

In the distance, he spotted a spire, a small, metal cross attached to the tip. The symbol sent a shiver down Keh-yah’s spine, but he didn’t seem to have any other options.

~~

Making his way down the streets, he found the church and stumbled towards the door, gasping in pain as the wounds he had gathered burned like fire. One downside of the glamour is that it made them hurt more, but he supposed it was a good enough trade off if he could receive help. Inside he could hear a sound, music and a loud whirring. He could smell human, there had to be one inside.

Reaching the top of the stairs he hesitated a second. This was either the smartest or stupidest plan he had ever had. But he had always admired the human race, many seemed more than happy to help anyone in need, but the thought flickered over Keh-yah’s mind of the evil ones, some worse than even the worst angels. Gasping in pain, he pounded his fist against the door as thunder clapped around him. The whirring stopped. Desperately, he pounded again, whispering to the door. “Please… sanctuary.”

The next thing Keh-yah remembered was the burst of warm that emerged from the door as it opened, hearing a muffled voice as a loud ringing began in his ears. He wanted to lift his hands to cover them, but they were too heavy. Suddenly, he felt the cold sensation of the wooden pew beneath his legs. He didn’t know what it was, his vision focusing and unfocusing with every blink, the ringing getting louder. Through it, he could hear the sound of the man, glancing at him Keh-yah realised it was a priest.

“What are you doing out in this weather, brother?” It sounded muffled, but the word brother made Keh-yah seethe. He figured it was best not to lie, speaking as loudly as he could, which turned out to be hardly audible as his throat burned.

“I… am no brother… of yours…”

The priest continued on, mentioning something about shelters, but the demon wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. ‘Oh shut up.’ He thought to himself, knowing if any more time was wasted, he probably wouldn’t make it. He supposed he should just request what he wanted, making it clear in his pounding head.

“I… request… sanctuary…”

The ringing became louder and everything suddenly felt claustrophobic. Something had been placed around his shoulders at one point and Keh-yah just wanted it off. Standing, he tried to escape, but he felt light headed as he got to his feet.

The next thing he remembered was waking on the ground, feeling cold. The priest had pulled up his tunic, exposing him. Keh-yah felt a little clearer, the pounding less intense and the ringing a lower, quieter pitch. He heard the priest speaking again.

Opening his eyes, he realised there had been enough strength to maintain the glamour, but he could feel it draining him. The look on the priest’s face showed Keh-yah everything he needed to know. He could see the wound. Giving up, with a quiet laugh Keh-yah submitted to the truth. Perhaps he could gain sympathy in this state, regardless of his true nature?

“Well… I guess you… figured it out…” Keh-yah mumbled, fighting to stay awake. He couldn’t afford to pass out at this crucial moment. This would make or break his chance for help. The demon gave in after the priest insisted that he go to a hospital, and the demon finally let go, feeling the glamour lift and his true form take over.

“I am no… human…” Keh-yah mumbled, half proud of this fact as he felt a crushing sensation begin to form on his chest. “You may see… me as…” Vertigo wracked his body as he tried to grasp the words in his mind. “I am not… a threat… to you…” He tried to assure the creature kneeling over him, “Cast me out… if you wish…” He couldn’t breathe, spots began gathering in his vision as his head swam. Out of pure desperation, Keh-yah said the words he did not want to say.

“But if you do… You will.. seal… my fate…”

Fear was wracking his mind as he fought to stay conscious, terrified that the priest, a man of the cloth would not help him.

“I am… a demon…”

The words escaped his lips as he was enveloped by the darkness, the pressure on his chest so great that he could not breathe.

~~

A burning pain at his side roused him. He shot up, cringing at the familiar sensation of holy water coursing through his body. It felt so cold, yet so hot at the same time, travelling through the infection like lightning. The priest explained what he was doing, and Keh-yah half wanted to laugh. ‘You’re a smart one, priest.’ He though as he stared into the man’s eyes.

He knew that holy water was the only thing that would lift the cursed infection form his body, did the priest know that too? It seemed he had no clue what he was doing, despite his snarky tone, his hesitant movements and unsure gaze gave that away. The least Keh-yah could do was provide a little encouragement. “The water should do it… just… warn me next time…”

He lay back, bracing for the on coming pain, but it didn’t seem to come. He snapped at the priest, immediately regretting it. He should be thankful the man was even helping him. Soon, the familiar sensation ricocheted through his body again, making him nauseous, but the slight release of a weight he hadn’t realised he was carrying made him feel secure. The damned water was working.

‘Great.’ He thought sarcastically, he couldn’t wait for more sessions of that.

The priest interrupted his thoughts, concerned that he was hurting him. Keh-yah felt light headed already, a side affect of the water, but explained as best he could through the nausea that it was fine. After one more go, Keh-yah felt so much better. The nausea wasn’t fun, but that would soon fade and he felt the tension finally leave his body.

The stupid priest insisted he sat up so the wound could be bandaged but Keh-yah really didn’t feel like moving at that second. He groaned at the thought of it, the priest moving him the nausea becoming worse as he did so.

A tumbling hum overtook Keh-yah’s mind, as the priest seemed to disappear from his vision. A sudden touch made him jump, and for a slit second he thought he was imprisoned again, before the soft touches of the priest echoed through his body, then sensation of the wound being pressed on by the bandage being wrapped around it. He fought to keep his eyes open and the humming became louder and louder, until he felt like he was falling...

A paralysing jolt of pain shot through Keh-yah’s body, his limbs seized up as he threw his head back. The humming ceased as he came to rest against the sofa, his head pounding and heart racing. The man spoke to him, having gall to ask a demon its’ name.

Annoyed at the constant chatter of the man, Keh-yah snapped at him again, and again, immediately began to chastise himself for it. The name of a demon is their prized possession, it is their title, their honour, their's to protect. To tell someone your name was to trust them with your life…

But he was sore, hurting in too many places in too many ways. He was also cold, completely naked and exposed in front of the priest, all of his body completely vulnerable. He shivered, covering his lower half, partially for warmth and partially for dignity. Even some demons had private areas they wished to not expose.

The priest seemed to read his mind, pulling a heavy, soft blanket over him, before leaning him forward and wrapping a second around his shoulders. This time, the closeness of the blankets were comforting. They felt secure, they felt safe. But they were not going to save him from what had done this to him.

Keh-yah’s mind drifted a scowl forming on his face as he remembered the relentless torture that he endured, the sound of the arrow whistling through the air, and the sickening sound it had made when it had landed in his side.

The angels were fools though, they did not realise how much power Keh-yah could manifest when he was as desperate as he was. He could probably could have manifested 100 portals if he had to force himself to. They didn’t think he could do it. He was too tired to, yes, but he had forced himself to do it, forced the glamour, forced it all. It was amazing how far his powers could stretch beyond their natural threshold when he was trying to survive.

The blankets were warm. Keh-yah wanted to melt into them, become them. 'The blankets of a priest… ' He thought it out in his head, weighing the pros and cons, but with the final ounce of energy he could muster, he whispered the word that would give the priest his most prized posession.

“Keh-yah…”

The priest seemed to look confused. Humans had strange ways of reacting that was for sure. Keh-yah mentally rolled his eyes, his stare fixed at the wall in front of him, focusing on not passing out. He decided to clarify. “My name… is Keh-yah.”

The priest nodded, telling Keh-yah his own name, Mark. He did it so casually, like it meant nothing to him. ‘Mark.’ The demon thought, the corner of his lips quirking at the thought that crossed his mind. ‘Matthew, Mark Luke and John. Oh, humans are so predictable.’ He almost wanted to roll his eyes at the name, but chose not to.

A name was to be honoured, respected and cherished, regardless of who had it or what they were.

Mark reached out a hand to Keh-yah, who glared at it. Why would he offer his hand? The only hands Keh-yah had known in recent memory were painful, evil and vile. The thought of biting it flickered across his mind, but he stilled it. ‘No, this hand has not hurt you. Do not give it a reason to Keh-yah.’ He instructed himself, swallowing the urge.

The priest stood, mentioning food. ‘Oh, how food would be so good right now.’ Keh-yah pulled his legs up to prevent his stomach from rumbling. It had been forever since he had eaten, too long. What he wouldn’t do to sink his fangs into a juicy, dripping raw steak or fish. Something with meat, something with sustenance.

At that moment, Keh-yah couldn’t help but feel eyes looking at him, but not from the direction of the priest. The familiar sensation made him exhale in annoyance. If that's what he thought it was, he might have to help the priest out too.

The priest was muttering about bachelors, but Keh-yah’s body was growing tired. As much as he wanted to reply he just didn’t have the energy to do anything except sit there, staring at the wall. The human, Mark was growing annoying, constant chatter. Keh-yah could smell the anxiety, fear and apprehension in his scent.

It was growing stronger the longer he stared, but began to fade as the priest walked away. He was chuckling at a joke he made, desperately trying to break the awkward tension that Keh-yah had no care for. Awkward tension did not kill anyone, why should he have to break it?

The sweet silence, with the exception of the thunder and rain battering the building they were in made Keh-yah sigh with relief. Before he had even realised it, he had collapsed sideways into the sofa cushions with a quiet groan, falling into a light sleep.

A hypnic jerk awoke him, his left leg suddenly flailing for no reason, causing him to roll off balance. He straightened out his legs, gripping the side of the sofa to prevent falling off it, but to no avail. With a heavy thud, he hit the cold planks of the wooden floor.

Keh-yah groaned in pain as embarrassment and confusion overtook his mind. It took him a second to realise why he was on the ground.

~~

Mark came rushing through, a stained apron wrapped around his torso and a dirty wooden spoon in hand. He stopped when he saw the demon sprawled on the ground, lying on its’ back in a tangle of blankets, looking slightly delirious.

It was groaning quietly, and he could see the pitch black eyes of the creature rolling lazily in their sockets, looking around at the room. ‘Poor thing must have passed out and fallen off the sofa. Blast, I was only gone for 5 minutes.’ He thought, kicking himself for leaving the poor wretch alone. Finally, the creature sat up, dazed.

“Hey.” The priest murmured as gently as he could, causing the creature to turn and face him properly. Even though there was nothing to see, Mark could somehow tell as it sat up, its’ eyes were glazed over, not fully taking in everything they were seeing.

It groaned again, placing its’ forearm on its’ forehead, swaying as the world seemed to swim in front of its’ black, endless eyes. It knew he was there, but Mark waited patiently for it to acknowledge his existence, not wanting to scare the clearly dazed creature.

A loud clap of lighting made it jolt and the demon leapt forward, toward Mark, landing on its’ elbows. It shuddered, long black hair falling around its’ face as it panted. Seeming to realise what it was doing, it gulped and sat up, embarrassed. Mark could swear that he saw a slight tinge of pink on the creature’s bruised cheeks.

“It’s okay.” Mark whispered, hoping to comfort the creature. “It’s just the thunder.” “Of course it’s fucking thunder.” The creature growled, standing on its’ unstable legs and stiffly bending to grab the blankets at its’ feet. Mark moved slowly forward, reaching for the blankets, but the demon snatched them up before he could get to them, shooting him a nasty glare. The priest felt a shiver go down his spine. It really was a demon.

“I can do it myself.” It snapped, hunching over and wrapping the blanket over its’ shoulders. It limped back to the sofa, collapsing onto it and sighing dejectedly. Mark pulled his lips into a sympathetic smile, earning another scowl from the demon. Quietly, it mumbled in its’ low voice, “I don’t want your sympathy, Mark.”

Mark was surprised that the creature was using his name, usually people called him Father, despite his insistance that Mark was fine. It was strange to hear such a deep voice coming from the creature, even if it was quiet. It was probably deep, rumbling and commanding, even when the creature was well.

This demon could’ve governed a circle of Hell, lead an army of devils against the world or convinced any desperate sod to sell their soul to it, and it would have worked, all because of the powerful voice it possessed. But now, even though it was there, it was cracked, like a once grand mirror, now splintered into pieces.

It seemed that was Keh-yah in a nutshell really.

Something about it made Mark sense it carried a great heaviness, a burden that it was forced to carry. Something that ate it up from the inside.

The creature was staring at him, a mix of tiredness and defiance. It still struck Mark how much it looked like a man. ‘I mean the four fingers are a bit of a give away, and the fangs… but it looks so… normal?' The creature’s lips curled in disgust.

“If you have a thought about me, say it out loud at least.” Mark looked up, startled at the gravelly, tired voice talking again. “Oh, I- I didn’t mean any offense, I just… Wait, can you read my thoughts?” He frowned, feeling slightly violated at the idea that the thing in front of him was listening in to his private musings.

The creature looked amused, and it raised its’ eyebrows, looking at Mark with a cheeky glint in its’ eye. “And what if I can?” It purred, or at least tried to. Its’ voice was fried, creaking as it spoke. “Well, you could not.” Mark put his hands on his hips, frowning. “That’s kinda rude, you know."

The demon smirked, letting out a single, brief chuckle, before leaning back against the sofa. “I have many powers, Mark. Telepathy is not one of them. You are simply easy to read.” It cleared its’ throat, or at least tried to, coughing hard. Mark frowned again, leaving the room and coming back with a glass of water. “Here.” He said to it, holding out the small glass.

The demon eyed it suspiciously, flinching back slightly. “It’s tap water, don’t worry.” Mark watched as the creature gingerly reached for the cup. It took it, hands shaking slightly and sniffed it. In a flash, a long, deep indigo, forked tongue flicked out like a snake, barely touching the water. Mark’s eyes widened. The creature noticed, grinning slightly again. ‘The damn thing’s enjoying this. Little twit. At least that means its’ feeling a bit better, I hope.’

He watched as the demon raised the glass to its’ chapped, pale lips, delicately drinking a small sip. It glanced at Mark, before taking another and then another. After a few minutes of drinking, the small glass was empty and the creature leaned over, setting it down on the table in front of the sofa.

“Thank you.” It mumbled, genuinely. It lowered its’ head, looking at the wall in front of it. Like a small child that had just been told off, avoiding eye contact with Mark.

Mark nodded once, before sitting next to the demon. “I’m going to go back and finish cooking, that pasta will be almost done by now. Yell if you need anything.” He wanted to pat the wretch on the shoulder, but decided against it. Physical touch was probably something they should work on.

The demon’s eyes flashed as they glanced at the priest, before flicking back to the wall it had been staring at. “There might not be anything good on, but you can watch TV if you like.” Mark gestured at the remote, scattered between the box containing the Eucharist and a thurible. Keh-yah raised an eyebrow, confused.

Mark felt a bit dumb at that moment. “Ah, sorry. Do you know what that is?” He leaned forward as distant thunder rumbled, grabbing the remote and pressing the ‘on’ button. The TV flickered to life, a re-run of Jeopardy! replacing the black screen.

The demon flinched back at the sudden appearance of sound and light, but soon was eyeing it curiously, like a cat waiting to strike its prey. After a minute it turned, looking at Mark. “Pretty cool, right?” He asked, looking down at the demon, who looked puzzled.

“What is the point of this?” Its’ voice was less ragged now, but its’ hand was still shaking as it gestured at the TV. “Uh, Jeopardy!? Well, the people behind there get to pick a topic for a certain amount of points, and then the guy there asks them random questions about the topic. The person at the end with the most money, uh, points wins and goes onto the next episode. It goes on and on until there’s like, a big winner at the end.” The demon blinked, trying to make sense of the game. “Just watch, you’ll get it.” Mark patted the sofa arm, before leaving the room.

When he returned with two steaming bowls of spaghetti, he glanced at the TV. Keh-yah was half watching it, disinterested. “Who’s winning?” Mark enquired, looking at the demon, slouched in the cushions. “Some guy named Tom. Smartass. Knows all the answers, I can smell the ego from here.” Mumbled the creature, picking at the skin around its’ index finger.

“We can change the channel if you want. Find something else?” Keh-yah shrugged not looking as Mark reached over and grabbed the remote. He clicked onto the next channel. A random French documentary about polar bears or something. “How about this?” The demon looked unimpressed.

“Uh, okay. How about the next one.” APTN, airing a ghost hunting show. The demon exhaled sharply. “Ghosts… ugh, those things annoy me.” It grumbled, before wincing, resting its’ forearm against its’ head. Leaning back, it sighed heavily. “You alright?” Mark asked, nervous. “My head… its’-its’ pounding.” The demon groaned again.

“Maybe you should eat? Might help. I’ll get you more water too.” Keh-yah gave a small nod, squeezing its’ eyes shut in pain, before reaching forward for the bowl.

When Mark returned with the water, the demon was hunched over the bowl, hungrily munching the food. “There’s a fork if you want it…” Mark picked up the silver fork, holding it out to the demon. It looked up, tilting its’ head and blinking. “Why? This works just as well.” Mark shrugged, placing the fork back on the table, next to the refilled glass and resumed his own pasta, sitting in the recliner opposite the couch. The ghost show was entertaining, if not a little fake. Keh-yah on the other hand, seemed to be enamoured with it.

A middle aged man with his hair pulled back into a tight braid was walking along, explaining the history of a haunted building and Keh-yah cocked its’ head, watching as intently as the show continued. The pasta was already almost gone. Soon however, the demon moaned again, putting its’ hands on its’ temples. “Headache again?” The priest asked, leaning over in concern. The creature nodded, shivering. “Cold.” It mumbled.

Mark’s eyes grew wide as he realised he had completely forgotten to get the demon anything to wear. “Did you want some clothes?” He asked the demon, watching as it shivered, massaging its’ temples, eyes squeezed shut. It moaned in reply, nodding.

Mark nodded, standing and going to his room on the second floor of the rectory. The demon was tall, but slightly shorter than he was. Probably just under 6 foot. He opened his closet humming as he considered what to give the demon. His clerical clothes were probably not the best idea.

Rummaging around in an old plastic box of clothes he had never gotten rid of, he found some old, stained sweatpants and a loose, black T-shirt. Continuing to rummage, he pulled out an old, thin hoodie, long forgotten from his days back in Ottawa. He grimaced, before nodding. “This is the best I can do, demon.” He grabbed some socks on his way out, nice thick ones and walked back to the demon.

Keh-yah was passed out on the sofa, one arm dangling from the edge, the other under its’ head. Its’ back was exposed, and Mark did a double take, looking at the skin. It was battered and bruised, covered in scars and wounds, some old and some quite recent. The demon twitched in its’ sleep, brow furrowing, before it sniffed and lifted its’ head.

“What’s that smell?” It asked sleepily. “Uh, I don’t know. What smell do you mean?” The demon’s eyes glinted as it eyed the clothes. “Those. They smell like… you but more... decrepit…” The creature’s eyes flickered as it searched for the words to say. “They’ve been stuck in a box for a few too many years, that’s probably why.” Mark smiled sheepishly, “Sorry. It’s all I had.” He did have to admit, the clothes did smell a bit musty and moth eaten.

But once the demon had the clothes on, it seemed to relax. Huddled under the two blankets, head bobbing as it dozed, it soon slumped sideways again, softly breathing against the cushions. Occasionally, it would moan and twitch, but it seemed to actually be sleeping now.

Mark sighed, grabbing the empty bowls and going to the kitchen. He began to wash them, listening to the storm, now lighter, the thunder more of a constant, distant rumble. He quietly put the bowls and cutlery away, creeping slowly back into the lounge room and turning off the TV. He thought about carrying the creature up to the spare bedroom, but he didn’t want to risk waking it.

Instead, he sat in the recliner opposite the demon, watching it as it tossed and turned, groaning softly. ‘It will fall again if I leave it there.’ He thought to himself. He decided to get the guest room ready, collecting some extra blankets and making the bed with some soft, new sheets before going back down to the demon.

Gently he scooped up the creature and carried it up the stairs to the second floor. It was bundled in the blankets, twitching and groaning every couple of steps. Through the groans, Mark could hear it whispering something, nothing he could understand, maybe it was gibberish, maybe it wasn’t, he couldn't tell.

Walking down the hall, he glanced into his room, directly opposite the spare one and sighed. He was tired too, ready to turn in. He had a Mass to prepare for in the morning and did not enjoy the thought of doing that tired. The demon moaned again, worse this time, its head dropping back as it gasped for air, shuddering as it went limp.

Something felt wrong. Placing the creature on the bed, Mark felt the forehead of the wretch. It was burning up. “Oh no.” He squeezed is eyes tight, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fever. Great.” He was too tired to tend all night to this thing.

Keh-yah gasped again, gulping as sweat began to form on its’ brow. Its’ back arched up and it pushed its’ head back against the pillows, writhing. The tired priest sighed, lifting the blankets and moving the twisting demon, wrangling it until it was under the covers. It seemed to still a little after that, but it was breathing from its’ mouth with laboured breaths, its’ chest rising and falling fast and hard as it groaned again.

“Guess it’s gonna be an all nighter after all. I hope that Mac’s is open early tomorrow.” Mark muttered, yawning. He sighed, going to the small ensuite connected to his room, collecting a face cloth and then trudging down stairs to get a bowl. When he returned, Keh-yah was already in a worse shape. The creature’s sharp jaw was clenched tightly as it sucked in air though its’ teeth.

It had its’ neck arched, head pressed back into the pillows, sweat covering its’ skin in a light sheen. The groaning had stopped, replaced by a quiet, pained whimper. Mark felt his heart melt a little. He couldn’t help but feel compassion for the creature, even though it was a demon, it seemed to be in so much pain.

Sitting beside it on the bed, he began to try and cool down the sick being, gently dabbing its’ head with the cool water. It seemed to instinctively lean into it, desperate for relief. Mark decided to remove the blankets, leaving just the inner sheet, already drenched in sweat around the body of the demon. He also removed the hoodie, and shirt, both soaked with sweat to the point where they had a stain covering most of the front.

At least the tendrils seemed to mostly be confined to within the front of the demon’s chest and stomach now, not going past the collarbones or hips. It seemed to melt when the priest lay a cool cloth in its’ chest, sighing as its’ body relaxed.

The groaning, much more quiet and contained soon began again. After a few hours it seemed to have cooled down enough to rest peacefully. Happy that the creature would at least make it through the night, the priest stood and left the room. Collapsing into his own bed, he soon fell asleep to the sound of the gentle rain pattering against his window and the sound of a pipe dripping.

When he awoke, he yawned feeling drained. What a strange dream he had had. “Demon.” He chuckled to himself, glancing across the hall at the guest room. His stomach froze.

The demon was still there, lying unconscious in his guest bed, panting hard. It still had a fever by the looks of things. “Lord. Have mercy on my soul.” Mark whispered, creeping down stairs to grab a coffee, before taking off tho the convenience store where he hoped to get a Redbull and some medicine.

He hoped that human medicine could even help a creature like that, but it wasn’t worth not trying right? “What’s the worst that could happen?” He thought out loud to himself as he walked down the street towards the store.

~next~

~masterlist~

[unes23]

Flavia Lucini for Glamour Brazil by Paul Vainer

[vivalahilton]

rio de janerio in the 70s

[hollywoodandstagebeauties]

Johnnie Lucille Collier (April 12, 1923 – January 22, 2004), known professionally as Ann Miller.

She is best remembered for her work in the Classical Hollywood musical films of the 1940s and 1950s. Miller was known, especially later in her career, for her distinctive appearance, which reflected a studio-era ideal of glamour: massive black bouffant hair, heavy makeup with a splash of crimson lipstick, and fashions that emphasized her lithe figure and long dancer's legs. In 1941, she signed with Columbia Pictures, where, starting with Time Out for Rhythm, she starred in 11 B movie musicals from 1941 to 1945. In July 1945, with World War II still raging in the Pacific, she posed in a bathing suit as a Yank magazine pin-up girl. She ended her contract in 1946 with one "A" film, The Thrill of Brazil. The ad in Life magazine featured Miller's leg in a large, red, bow-tied stocking as the "T" in "Thrill". She finally hit her mark in Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer musicals such as Easter Parade (1948), On the Town (1949) and Kiss Me Kate (1953). Her film career effectively ended in 1956 as the studio system lost steam to television, but she remained active in the theater and on television. She starred on Broadway in the musical Mame in 1969, in which she wowed the audience in a tap number created just for her. She appeared in a special 1982 episode of The Love Boat, joined by fellow showbiz legends Ethel Merman, Carol Channing, Della Reese, Van Johnson and Cab Calloway in a storyline that cast them as older relatives of the show's regular characters. Her last stage performance was a 1998 production of Stephen Sondheim's Follies, in which she played hardboiled Carlotta Campion and received rave reviews for her rendition of the song "I'm Still Here". Ann Miller died, aged 80, from lung cancer. She is buried at Holy Cross Cemetery in Culver City, California, beside the remains of her infant daughter Mary.

Source: Facebook

Hollywood Page of Death

[rf-times]

Since I barely see people touch on this subject often and you are one of the best radblr accounts, I want to share a thought with you and see what do you think about it. This will be a bit long...

So lately I have talked to a friend about how the conceptualization of the so called “peak trans” disconnected from the whole understanding of the neoliberalism ideology was regressive to radical feminism in many points, to the point of becoming one of the strongest backlashes we have to deal with currently. At first sight, this perception can sounds exaggerating because radical feminists like Janice Raymond and Sheila Jeffreys had always touched on this topic criticizing the MEDICAL COMPLEX who profits from countless people's agony due to misogyny, homophobia and overall hatred for gnc people. Unfortunately, this powerful and accurate criticism of transgederism was gradually replaced when be a gc became so popular, almost like a queer identity without the glamour ofc but still interesting enough to appeal to some people. The main unity factor? Be able enough to define what is a woman! From the white supremacist to the liberal “leftist” /“feminist” who is just upset bc was called “transphobic” after devoting themselves to transactivism and want to vent about it to apolitical women who think men in dress are the only dangerous men on earth, everyone is welcomed and then the feminist resistance(called 'gender critical'), that was initially created to oppose to the censorship in academic feminist spaces who only accepts liberal approach of feminism while reject the rest, don't exist anymore but the effect of what was left of the gc movement is permanent. “radfem” also became an identity, “terf” too and anyone, literally, ANYONE who disagrees with transactivism/queeractivism, even if a little bit, are thrown in the same bag as “radfem” and “terf” and these labels CAN MEAN ANYTHING and the worst part is that we aren't even able to define ourselves bc transactivists/queers are doing it instead of us because they receive political capital from the liberal right and we have nothing.

Radical feminists aren't anti trans people in any sense, our criticisms are POLITICAL, not individualist. With that said, due to this polarized debate, many people do get attracted to radfem spaces bc of a lot of things except for feminism. Many women don't want to at least read feminist books, they just want to talk all the time about transactivists and think peak activism is fighting TRA's all day. There are also women who consume radical-leaning content like we consume products. They tend to think if they have enough feminist knowledge, they're shielded from misogyny and it also gives them a free pass to ignore/belittle other realities, since the other women are so inferior to them. But sometimes it just drains them bc the constant negativity without any real changes is emotionally damaging and add nothing in a personal level let alone collectively.

All these examples above are integral parts of the neoliberalism, this alienation, disconnection with reality and inability to uniting as a class bc things can have so many meanings and oppression can't be oppressive if you are empowered enough lol

This is why I think the conceptualization of “peak trans” often ignore strong social/political forces that controls our society and appeal away too much to a moralistic approach that was never present in Radical Feminism. I often see women here bragging about how rf can't be infiltrated by men(or male ideologies) and I wish it was real but it isn't. Radical Feminism does have a admirable story of resistance to male ideologies but thinking it wasn't already infiltrated with neoliberalism is bs. Even communism was taken by liberals and has been losing its essence day after day, since even some political communist parties in countries like Brazil are funded by the USA liberal right. Besides the negativity of my ask, I still believe in better days to all of us but I think the first step is to fight for radical feminism, the real one, not what people generically label as “radfem”.

Thank you so much for the ask, I really love getting stuff like this. It's definitely because people would 'peak trans' from different ideologies, many of which have little in common, from those who still believe in some form of medical transition as a good form of treatment to dysphoria, to conservatives, to people who have never questioned the medical industrial complex. Radical feminism is devalued and turned into an identity as you say and indeed many women who buy into radical feminism don't go into it with a sense of empathy or goodwill towards other women. At this point I find most trans discourse tedious and it's so clearly noticeable on here how a post making fun of trans ideology > post connecting trans ideology to larger feminist concerns > non-trans feminist concerns, in terms of attention. It isn't enough for us all to agree what a woman is, that isn't a coherent political movement.

It gets to the point where if I see a post where someone is talking about genocide or women being murdered or a graphic horrific cultural institution I find myself waiting for the inevitable part where they say "AND YET TRANS PEOPLE THINK THIS OR THAT" Like the only way so many radfems even talk about feminism anymore is solely through the lens of making a point about trans ideology.

[8day-bet]

Top 5 Legendary Casino Heists in History

Welcome to the thrilling world where risk meets reward – the realm of casino heists. These audacious endeavors have become legendary tales, weaving together elements of cunning strategy, daring execution, and a dash of luck. In this blog post, we'll delve into the top 5 legendary casino heists that have left the gambling world spellbound and law enforcement scratching their heads.

The Stardust Job: A Dazzling Heist

Our journey begins in the heyday of Las Vegas, circa 1992. The Stardust Casino, with its glitzy exterior and opulent interiors, became the target of a group of audacious thieves. Their plan was as elaborate as a heist could get, involving inside information, meticulous timing, and a touch of old-school Vegas charm.

The crew managed to infiltrate the casino's count room, where they swiftly bagged an astonishing $3 million in cash. What set this heist apart was not just the sheer amount stolen but the finesse with which it was executed. The robbers disappeared into the neon-lit streets of Las Vegas, leaving a trail of mystery that endures to this day.

Bellagio's Ballet of Bandits: Ocean's Eleven in Real Life

Inspired by the Hollywood blockbuster "Ocean's Eleven," a group of thieves decided to bring the glamour of the silver screen to life at the Bellagio Casino in 2000. This heist was no ordinary caper; it was a performance orchestrated with precision.

The thieves, led by a mastermind known as "Mr. Ashley," managed to exploit a flaw in the Bellagio's security system. They swiftly disabled the cameras, outsmarted the guards, and made off with an impressive $160 million in cash, chips, and bonds. The audacity and finesse displayed by the Bellagio bandits mirrored the charisma of their cinematic counterparts.

The Crown Jewels of the Riviera: The Carlton Heist

Our next stop takes us across the Atlantic to the French Riviera in 2013. The Carlton Intercontinental Hotel, known for its luxurious accommodations and high-stakes clientele, became the backdrop for one of the most daring jewelry heists in history.

A lone gunman, clad in a baseball cap and scarf, brazenly strolled into the hotel lobby and seized an estimated $136 million worth of jewelry. The thief vanished into the summer night, leaving both the French authorities and the global media in awe of the audacity and simplicity of the heist.

The Ritz-Carlton Rubout: A Crime of Precision

In 2018, the Ritz-Carlton in Berlin became the stage for a meticulously planned heist that could rival any Hollywood script. A group of thieves meticulously dug a tunnel from an underground garage to the nhà cái 8day vault, avoiding detection for weeks.

The crew, armed with power tools, managed to break into the vault and make off with over a million euros in cash. What set this heist apart was the sheer precision involved – a testament to the meticulous planning and patience required for a successful casino robbery.

The Inside Job: The Banco Central Heist

Our final heist takes us to Brazil in 2005, where a group of thieves executed a plan that was nothing short of a modern-day "Ocean's Eleven" plot. The target? The Banco Central in Fortaleza, home to Brazil's central bank and its vast reserves of cash.

The thieves spent months digging a tunnel that extended for over 78 meters from a rented house to beneath the bank's vault. The heist, executed over a weekend, resulted in the theft of approximately $70 million. The audacity and scale of the Banco Central Heist make it a standout in the annals of casino history.

Conclusion:

These legendary casino heists remind us that sometimes truth is stranger, and more thrilling, than fiction. The allure of massive fortunes, meticulous planning, and a touch of daring has inspired countless individuals to take their chances against the house – and sometimes come out on top. While these tales may be a source of fascination, it's important to remember that crime doesn't pay, and the vast majority of us are better off enjoying the excitement of the casino legally. So, the next time you're tempted by the thrill of a heist, why not try your luck at the roulette table instead? After all, the house always has the odds in its favor.