#rio vargas

[toonilumi]

days 23-31 of gijinkatober!

this challenge was a lot of fun. i hope you all liked them!

☕️ my comms are open on kofi ☕️

[colombiacaribe]

Richard Ríos Bailando

[abuddyforeveryseason]

Hey, I did a thing!

Remember that picture of Dolores Del Rio, the one I did the treatment with Ben-Day dots, by converting it into multiple layers in Inkscape, then moving each of them to FireAlpaca to convert only the opaque part into polka dots? This one:

Original on the left, manipulated by me on the right

So, basically, there was a recent FireAlpaca update, and it added a Gradient Map feature that I found pretty useful (still no area selection by color like Windows Photo Editor had, unfortunately). The gradient map can automatically change the percentage of an image that's opaque by brightness.

So I just put on a bunch of layers with different levels of brightness, and applied the gradients. That allowed me to do everything on FireAlpaca, no need to use Inkscape.

Original piece created by Alberto Vargas

I used this image as the original. And I figured this one is simple enough, I could separate it into two colors manually. I selected all the darker reds and removed them to another layer.

Then, I repeated the process I described twice, making ten layers for the gray part of the image, and ten for the red part. (That adds up to 20 layers, although I'm not sure since I didn't really pay attention in math class).

And the image up there is the result!

[teadocs]

[h0llow-max1ez]

yellows……. (smooches them) what r they thinkin about rn…..

Cherry - What her next date with Berry is gonna be like

Berry - When the next time he can get away from Cherry is

Bryan - If he actually has tinnitus or if he's just conjested (it's tinnitus)

Holly - If the person actually bet and lost 50 dollars or if she just forgot and got greedy

Jorge - He needs to scratch his non existent arm with his nonexistent fingers

Claudia - Does anything actually matter? Do I mean anything to anyone? Oh hey it's lunch time :)

Laffy - He's wondering if he should cut his hair again or if he should just dye it

Bilberry - He really wants to see this one romance movie that's on rn

Bubblegum - If she'll be able to afford tickets for the next Taylor Swift concert

Pan - Fucking face itches....... where's my inhaler

Mochi - She's making plans for the next drag race

Warhead - She's scared about if her breath stinks

Rasmalai - Thinking about this smut scene he read in a book

Beignet - He's baking rn don't bother him

Izumi - (growl section from Freak On A Leash by KoRn)

Benji - He's eating a sandwich and trying not to bite his cheek piercings rn

[hondurasairportnews]

La Colonia realizó el sorteo de la promoción de zona norte: “Gana tu destino Río de Janeiro con Supermercados La Colonia”

[alexsussuarana]

A censura ao livro de Jefferson Tenório coincidiu com o fim da minha leitura do 1° romance de Mário Vargas Llosa, A Cidade e Os Cachorros (1963).

Aqui ele fala de garotos peruanos em uma escola militar. E num misto de escrevivência e denúncia da sociedade peruana, especialmente frente ao exército peruano, assistimos ao choque entre a realidade juvenil que naturalmente testa os limites sociais e a ingenuidade ou completo cinismo das autoridades (paternas ou hierárquicas).

Foi um livro que também chocou sua geração. Quer dizer, chocou a geração de cidadãos autômatos e cínicos moldada por um moralismo que insiste em negar a realidade. Inclusive a realidade de seu passado.

[tumbaomediaproductions]

Noel Vargas presenta “El Monarca” Ft. Angel Ríos

El compositor y productor neoyorquino Noel Vargas, lanza al mercado “El Monarca” ft. Ángel Ríos, una salsa que fusiona los sonidos clásicos y modernos del género, y que se perfila como un himno para los amantes de la salsa romántica. El tema, que ya se encuentra disponible en las principales plataformas digitales, es la segunda colaboración entre Noel Vargas y Ángel Ríos. “El Monarca” es una…

[the-californicationist]

Excerpt from Gunslinger - "Appaloosa"

OMG!! I commissioned this artwork from the incredible @captain-natey who RETURNED TO ME WITH THIS MASTERPIECE!!!! I just wanted to plug their work (their commissions are OPEN! visit their website here!!) and I wanted to post the chapter excerpt from "Gunslinger" (Price/Reader) that it belongs to. Hope you enjoy! Please go show Nate some love! Thanks for reading. TW: reference to past domestic abuse, Reader has call sign and speaks Spanish

Price sat beside you and pulled your chair closer to his, looping an arm around the back of it,

“Look, love, you don’t have to do anything you don’t -”

“Capitán! Quit whispering your sugary words into her ear. This is the woman who survived Miguel ‘El Matador’ Moreno for diez pinche años. She may look like a little lady, but she’s done nastier work than all four of you perritos combined. She is the reason why the infamous Jefe Luis Villagomez doesn’t travel north of the Rio Grande. Charon doesn’t ferry the living very often, amigos. She only takes the dead. Porfa,” Alejandro waved a hand in the air dismissively, unamused by Price’s coddling tones. 

Ale may have been embellishing a bit, but he wasn’t wrong. You didn’t need your hand to be held.

“I can’t leave the animals,” you said, checking to see how far these men had thought this plan through. 

“Laswell called Tony, and he’ll be here Wednesday,” Gaz told you. 

Tony had watched the ranch for you once before. He was a sharp-witted veteran that had run his own ranch for decades, so you felt good about leaving the farm to him. Tony could take care of himself. He did tend to spoil the goats, but there were worse things. 

“How long?” Your question hung in the air like a balloon losing its air, floating, surrounded by silence. 

Vargas and Price shared a look. Price repositioned himself in his chair, not thrilled about having to answer you,

“Not sure, love. Is that alright?” 

It was a test. What were you willing to sacrifice for this man and his makeshift band of brothers? Your peace? You’d fought so damn hard for that peace. You’d survived a devil of a man in order to sleep warm and safe and knowing you could take care of your damn business unaided. After giving up years of your life to unrest and fear, your reward had been the reconstruction of your independence. Price was asking you for your hard-fought freedom. You weren’t ready to give that up. You weren’t ready for sleeping on floors and reloading guns. You weren’t ready to face more devil-men. 

But what else could you do? Price had you, threatening your heart. If you woke up tomorrow to his empty bed, you didn’t know if you could take that pain. You imagined that Kahlo’s Wounded Deer felt much the same; shot through the chest with nowhere to run, stuck between the cliff’s edge and your lover - your hunter - both promising suffering in different ways. No escape. 

The captain studied you like a heeler dog studied its herd, watching for even the slightest movement to strike, to react. He witnessed the fear flash in your face, and in turn, you saw the despair shadow his. It was so slight, that change in his expression, but to you, it was like he was screaming. You, too, were screaming. 

“Okay, but just for this mission. Then, I need to get back to my life,” you decided, making your limitations known, quietly but firmly. 

The relief that washed through Price’s eyes was palpable. 

Vargas served dinner in his chaotic way, family style, sharing plates. Everyone was eating with their hands, cradling the homemade tortillas like little flowers, using them to scoop up meat and sauce that dripped down their palms like nectar, spicy and sweet. 

Ghost didn’t take his food into the other room this time, feeling secure enough to flip up the mouth of his painted mask to eat. It was like seeing him naked; he was always covered up, so any skin was somehow too much. Soap crowded Ghost from his corner of the table, trying to steal more asada, laughing and joking with Ale. Gaz and Price were huddled, murmuring about something, talking with full mouths in low tones. 

It was almost too serene. There were times in life where you understood that you were in a moment you could never return to. You may have similar ones in your future, but somehow, you knew when certain wrinkles in time were singular. As you watched your guests, you knew that this was definitely one of those moments. 

Price had his arm draped across your chair, keeping you near him. You crafted a bite for him in your hand, pinching the soft tortilla until it held the perfect amount of Ale’s asada. 

You nudged Price with your free hand,

“Toma, come esto, papi.” Here, have a bite, daddy.

He turned away from Gaz and found you there, his bite of food in your hands, and his face lit up like a flame. Bending his head down to meet your hand, he grabbed your wrist in his huge fist, trapping your arm. Then, slowly, he put his mouth around the morsel, lips touching the pads of your fingers, tongue licking the sauce from them. 

Vargas watched your interaction from the other side of the table, open-mouthed. Soap smacked him on the shoulder as if to cash in a bet.

“No, animales! Not at the table!”

The men shared a lighthearted groan and laughed good-naturedly, giving you and their captain a hard time about your little display of affection. 

You smirked, feeling accomplished. Price had wanted to tell them, so you thought a dropped hint or two would be alright. To your relief, he laughed with them, chewing his food before making a comment,

“Sabe buena.” Tastes good. His voice, still badly accented, was mirthful and suggestive, dragging out another round of playful jeering. 

Then, to your surprise, the captain pulled your chair back away from the table, leaning it on its rear legs, holding it at an angle, and kissed you deeply. You let out a little cry of shock, silenced by his mouth. But, you recovered, kissing him back, wrapping one hand around his jaw and the other running through his hair. 

It was all in good fun. Normal. Just a couple flirting with each other, but for Price, you could tell it meant more. It was one thing to bare your souls to each other in front of the farm animals, or to sneak off and rediscover original sins in the quiet of your room, but it was something else to show the world that you chose him. To show his men that you were committed to their captain. That you weren’t just a rest-stop on their long journey. You got the sense that by committing to him, you were also committing to them: his family. 

The rest of the meal passed in that same warmth, filled with laughter and jokes, stories and questions about each other. Intimacy. The whole time, Price couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Your thigh, your hand, the nape of your neck - he was grabbing you like a lifeline. He shared his food, making you try his chili relleno, giving you sips of his drink when yours ran dry, doting on you. 

“Okay, time for dessert, yes?” You asked the others, picking up dirty dishes as you retreated back to the kitchen. 

You heard exasperated groaning, their bellies full and struggling, but you didn’t hear a no. Vargas followed you into the kitchen, pretending to help,

“Dios mío, necesito un cigarrillo después de verlos a ustedes.” My God, I need a cigarette after watching you two. 

“Cállate, cerdito.” Shut up, piglet. You smiled to yourself, cutting up what was left of the cheesecake, giving Price’s plate the largest piece. 

“¿Estas enamorado, morena?” Are you in love, darling? His voice was a quiet whisper. It felt like a gunshot wound in your chest. 

“I don’t know,” you said, in English, not trusting yourself to tell such a lie in your native tongue. 

Your old friend covered his mouth with his hand, eyebrows heading skyward, giving you an obvious look. He replied in English, understanding the secret you’d been trying to conceal,

“You know better, Charon. We are not men who should be loved. I hope you know what you’re doing, mija. ”

You didn’t reply out loud, but on the inside, you heard yourself say, “Me, too.”

Even though they lived in the shadows, you weren’t sold on the idea that they should be priests for their causes. Men like Price typically followed two paths. The love of a woman, if she becomes his family, could break his heart, making him forget his purpose, distracting him from his quest for justice. Or, she would light a fire in him, turning him into a dragon. You were afraid to find out which path he would choose.

You wondered if he loved you. 

You delivered the cake and poured more tequila into all the little cups that were thirsty for it. 

John was rolling a cigar in his fingers absentmindedly, and you could tell he was aching to smoke it. 

“You wanna come outside with me, love?” Price invited you, rubbing your thighs in big, sweeping strokes, making your blood rush through them, somehow knowing what you wanted. 

Everyone else was chatting, or watching Gaz play that video game of his, backseat driving, telling him where to hide and who to shoot. Which gun to use. You slipped out onto the porch with Price, avoiding any more ribbing. 

You stood against the porch railing, facing the yard, staring out at the darkness of the night, the rain finally dying out to a drizzle, casting little blue galaxies in the flooded grass, reflecting the light from a huge moon. Price stood directly behind you, pressed against your body, wrapping one hand around the railing, closing you in. He held his cigar in the other hand, smoking it in circles, trying to make the ashes burn evenly. 

“You surprised me at dinner,” he commented, obviously looking for a response. 

You feigned ignorance,

“Oh, why?”

“Feeding me by hand like that. Can’t be doing that in public. Makes me go a bit hard, love.” His voice was right next to your ear, gravelly and delightfully threatening. 

You smiled sweetly, your words coated in pretend innocence, playing with him,

“What do you mean? I just wanted you to have a bite. One little bite can’t hurt, can it, John?” 

“It’s bloody mental, the way you make me feel,” he took a long drag from his cigar and let the smoke tumble out as he spoke, leaning over you, “I’d fuck you right here, pretty girl, given half a chance.”

He took a deep breath along the side of your neck, smelling your skin beneath your hair, and when he exhaled, a moan was wrapped quietly inside it.

You pressed your ass into his crotch, finding him nearly hard. Touching his hand gently, you took his cigar and stuck it in your mouth, the wet leaves tasting like him. You curled the smoke with your tongue, locking eyes with him over your shoulder, watching him suffer deliciously,

“I dunno about ‘mental’, John. But it seems like you have an oral fixation.

You punctuated your last two words, saying them with a soft, sultry undertone. His eyes narrowed as he smiled down at you in a sinister grin,

“Do I ever.”

He stole the stick back from you and smiled even wider, teeth gleaming, his incisors seeming like fangs in his wolfy smile. 

“Think they’re watching us?” You let your eyes turn over to the window, covered with a sheer curtain, fully aware that the view outside was more visible than your view into the house. Trick of the light. 

He shrugged,

“Not if they know what’s good for them.”

Price’s cock had fully hardened now, and he thrust it up into your body ever so slightly, rubbing himself through layers of clothes, rocking his hips once and then twice like a promise of things to come. It made you feel a deep, primal lust, understanding his need without his words, your bodies engaging in an ancient art that had remained untainted by eons of time. You returned his invitation, rolling your hips back onto him, your ass pressing soundly into his pinned shaft. 

“We should get some sleep. Early start tomorrow. It’s five hours to El Ojo,” Price groaned, whispering, rutting against you mindlessly, burying his face in your hair, staining your scent with his smoke. 

You turned around to face him; he didn’t stop his idle grinding, looking tranquilized by his heady tobacco. Hypnotizing you with his casual eroticism. 

“You don’t seem sleepy,” you commented, letting your hands roam over his chest and belly, tracing his nipples beneath his smooth shirt. He shuddered at your touch, sighing deeply. 

With his cigar perched carefully between his fingers, he grabbed your jawbone, and you could feel the wet end press into your cheek. You could sense the warmth of the ash on your skin. He began to kiss you, all of the smoke and musky scents of him blended together, and his strong, masculine cologne made your head spin. His kisses were controlling and long, moving your head where he wanted it to be, sucking your lips and tongue, keeping them from exploring on their own. He was the guide for your passion, showing you all the ways he would be able to please.

He broke away, but only far enough to keep your lips from touching, his breath hot as it warmed your mouth when he spoke,

“Early. Tomorrow. We have to get up early. We should sleep.”

“Okay,” you sighed, a little dramatically, easing past his grip, removing yourself from him, untangling his vines from your bones, “if you say so, John. Buenas noches.” 

You walked inside, swaying your hips a little more than you needed to, knowing he was looking, his blue eyes burning into your curves. Just before you went through the door, you glanced over at him. In the darkness of the porch, cast in shadow, the smoldering tip of his cigar glowed in his open mouth, the light from it gleaming off of his teeth and coloring his lips and beard a fiery orange. He was grinning, like a fox in a henhouse. When he saw you looking, he made a small show of readjusting himself, pawing at his swollen rod to release it from where it was trapped, and in the dimness, you could see its threatening outline. 

You shut the door behind you, hands shaking. The other men mostly ignored you, but you caught them glancing your way, trying to sneak looks. Soap was not as sneaky as the rest, staring blankly as if he had a secret he shouldn't have.

As you wished them good night, they returned the sentiment casually, but it was then that you noticed the window. Price was still at the railing - in full, clear view, smoking. Blood rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel the flush tingle against your skin with embarrassment. 

An hour or so later, you were already asleep when Price came upstairs. His heavy footsteps pulled you from your slumber. He was pacing in his room, packing perhaps. You went to the bathroom and pulled open the door. Upon hearing you, he opened his as well.

“Hey,” you whispered, squinting from sleep. 

“Hey,” he was breathing heavily, dressed in nothing but the jeans and boots he had worn that day. 

The captain watched as your eyes feasted upon his skin, gazing longingly at his thick waist where his pants were slung low on his hips, showing off just a bit of hair from below his belt line. One of his giant hands gripped the door frame, high on the plank, stretching his chest into a sweeping display of muscle. His armpit, arms, and torso were covered in the thick, dark hair you had let your hands roam across last night during your joining, and you knew how it would feel to touch. 

Price slid his hand down the frame, making a slow scraping noise, stepping fully into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a click, his icy eyes never leaving yours. 

He was enormous in the small space. His body was a powerhouse of visible strength. The meat of him hung heavy on his large bones, and he seemed, in the clean white tile of the bathroom, as if he was a specimen in some sort of display. Some museum exhibit, showing off, in sterile composition, the ideal form of Man. Built to fuck, to kill, to dominate the beasts of Eden from the lamb to the lion. Top of the food chain. 

Still a little shy from realizing you’d given his team quite the show earlier on the porch, you averted your gaze, turning toward the sink. Before you could run the water, he was behind you, quick, crowding your space exactly as he had on the porch.

He positioned himself behind you and, much more luridly this time, began to kiss and lick your neck, grinding himself into you as he did so, slipping a warm hand under your loose top, finding your soft flesh waiting for his touch. You could feel the roughness of his denim jeans through your cotton shorts, and the contrast between his soft, melting kiss and the hard, unforgiving feeling of him trying to fuck you through your clothes was too much to handle. Your body was trying to reconcile the two, splitting your thoughts, making you love-drunk on his ministrations. 

Price pulled off your shirt, raking it over your head, tossing it to the floor. He laced his hand through your hair and began to tug your head back, forcing you to look at yourself, bare to him, in the mirror. There was only the nightlight, more like a small Christmas bulb attached to a plug, so the room lacked any harsh contrast. Your bodies, your faces, the walls - everything began to swirl together, all colorized in the same, peachy glow. 

You felt his hands on your breasts, and you watched him touch you in the mirror. Seeing yourself being pulled and manipulated by such a large man was gratifying. His hands massaged into your softness, leaving warm trails on your skin, the tell-tale feeling of where he had touched and where he still had left to go. The captain saw himself in the mirror for the first time, then, looking up from leaving erotic kisses on your neck and shoulders. 

He sighed, locking eyes with you in the glass. That sigh trailed off into a groan, a ghost of the one he’d given you last night in the midst of his ecstasy. 

“Fucking hell, look at you,” he said in his lowest tone.

Suddenly, he was tugging at the button of his jeans and unzipping the fly, freeing himself and stroking his cock to attention using your plump ass. Through your flimsy shorts, you could feel the burning heat that radiated from him. Reaching behind you, his hardness fell into your palm and you watched the sensation crawl its way through his expression in the reflection. He gasped, resting his head against yours, whispering - yes, yes, yes - into your ear in a hiss through clenched teeth. 

John’s hand found your pantyline and pried it away from your skin with a confident finger, traveling down into your folds, searching for the swelling bundle nestled in the crest of your slit, rubbing it in long, loose ovals.

It wasn’t feverish; it was measured. His was the hand of a practiced man. As he worked, you joined him, rolling your wrist to rub his foreskin up and down in achingly long pulls, letting his wet head graze your skin as you teased him. The thick length was drooling with precome, and you could feel its stickiness on your palm. 

It didn’t take him long to find your particular rhythm, the one you used when staring at Pinterest photos on your phone of Keanu Reeves in his John Wick era; sweaty, bloody, and great with a gun. Price’s movements felt personal, like he’d read about what you wanted in your diary somewhere, as if he was in on the secret. It brought you to the summit very quickly, and he noticed the flush in your cheeks and breasts, only then increasing his intensity. 

You tried to continue to stroke him, but as you began to come in Price’s hand, you could only hold onto his cock, grasping it like the handle in a car driving too fast, careening downhill, rushing to its inevitable crash. 

“Yeah, love, come for me. Just like that, you gorgeous fucking thing,” he watched you tumble over the edge, crumpling in the mirror, reaching for him. 

“John! Please,” you cried.

You felt the tension burst inside of you like a mortar, hot and molten, pouring out of your core and into your body in waves of climactic pleasure. No one had ever made you come that hard, that quickly. It was hard for you to stand. Price steadied you, using his talented hand to hold you to him while you remembered your legs. 

Once you regained your senses, you removed your hand from him to pull down your shorts and panties, letting them pool at the floor beneath your feet. You returned to his cock, now swollen and throbbing, and fed it into you. Your come made his entry smooth and slippery, and he filled you up, your body celebrating his return.

He returned to his slow, grinding dance on the porch, thrusting himself into you rhythmically in aching, rolling motions. It was not the slamming pugilism of two people trying to find release. This was a concerted effort for him to fuck your walls into his memory, rubbing his dick along them to sense every ridge and sweet spot, and to find the ones that made you scream. 

When you let slip a desperate moan, he would pause, reflect, and return, hitting it again and again, watching you writhe and begging for him to help you.

“You feel so good in me,” you admitted, talking to him in the looking-glass. 

His eyes were full of mismanaged control, and his grip on reality was slipping, 

“Bloody beautiful. So warm and wet for me. Goddamnit, I’m not gonna last.”

But, he did. Your beast had stamina. He returned to your clit as he thrust in and out of you, dragging his fat cock through your body, ripping two more orgasms from your lips before he surrendered. 

You watched him come, crying out darkly in his reflection. He had pulled himself from you and was painting your generous ass cheeks with his load. The tacky fluid was searingly hot, and it ran down your skin in drips. 

You smiled, bending back to kiss him,

“Messy boy,” you chided playfully, a naughty tone in your voice. 

“Wanna clean you up,” Price sighed, satisfied and spent.

Do you want 30 more chapters of these two? Read "Gunslinger" here.

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

[qrichas]

thinking abt the happy pills arc again but mostly importantly at how many references of brazilian history was there during forevers lives specially the music... like the clothes ccforever was using the video of rio in the 50s the references to vargas era and bossa nova. i saw an artist making an animatic of him using "construção" by chico buarque which is one of my fav songs from the anti ditactorship era along with "panis et circenses" and my brain got rewired as well. gosh it was soooooo so good and so well done you can even make a video essay about it ccforever rlly poped off with that i never felt so hyped with an arc bc im an history nerd AND seeing brazilian history implemented on a multilingual server was just *chefs kiss*

[teadocs]

happy valentine’s day from the teadocs! from love love and platonic love!  

[ms-lirio]

"You hurted yourself. Again."

"I guess I should say: I am deeply sorry."

"Do not act so reckless, Alfred."

"—Promise. And you should take a rest, you look tired."

"I am fine. Do not worry about me."

I have MANY pending books to read, whether diaries, reports, story books, Brazilian Pracinhas and Nurses and much more.  But to save time, I decided to just read a few quick articles to prepare this post.

All pointed here is in a historical view.

Brazil was officially the only South American country to send troops to the conflict under its flag.

Historically, Brazil's actions prevailed in Italy.  It was where Brazil sent its troops, and its participation in the war was delayed as Brazil wanted to maintain its relations with both sides and remain neutral throughout the conflict.  After German and Italian attacks suffered by Brazilian ships, Brazil gave up its neutrality, siding with the Allies.

American military bases were built in the Northeast region of Brazil and Brazilian troops received American training.

"In 1939, with the beginning of the Second World War, Brazil remained neutral, in continuation of President Getúlio Vargas' policy of not defining itself by any of the great powers, only trying to take advantage of the advantages offered by them. Such "pragmatism " was interrupted at the beginning of 1942, when the United States and the Brazilian government agreed to transfer air bases on the island of Fernando de Noronha and along the north-northeast Brazilian coast to receive American military bases (if negotiations had not result, with Vargas and the military insisting on maintaining neutrality, the US had plans to invade the Brazilian northeast, codenamed Plan Rubber).”  (WIKIPEDIA)

"Natal, the capital of the state of Rio Grande do Norte, in northeastern Brazil, has a very important strategic global geographic position. This fact made the city host the two main American military bases during the Second World War: the Naval Base and Parnamirim Field – at the time it was the largest US Air Force base on foreign territory.”  (WIKIPEDIA)

// Getúlio Vargas flirted with the Fascist ideology even tho, he went to ALLIES' side. 💀

HCs: (don't take them too seriously)

⚠️ Remembering the following content: we are still talking about Hetalia, so my HCs and lore are not absolute truth, but my perception of my oc's participation during the conflict.  Even though it has a historical basis behind it.  And also, this is historical fiction (ofc, it's hetalia).  WWII is an extremely sensitive topic to many. I ask for caution, I will be careful with what I have to say.

— Alfred used his charm and charisma to make Mayara fight alongside him (Good Neighbor Policy). What worked and they formed an alliance based on a mutual exchange of interests.

— Mayara had developed a strange feeling that intensified for Alfred (something between admiration and wanting to be like him, a complex feeling, which perhaps was confused with platonic love and which sought certain privileges in that alliance), even if she was reluctant to give end her neutral stance towards the conflict (something similar to what happened in WWI).  She would later do this after torpedoing of vessels by German and Italian submarines, retaliation due to Brazil's accession to the Atlantic Charter;  thus, she broke ties with the AXIS and declared war on Italy and Germany.

— In my universe, Mayara also served as a nurse, and spent most of her time with Alfred, often tending to his wounds.  Sometimes just chitchatting together or learning about militarism and things like that. He trained her. He was the one who supported her.

— I changed my conception of another topic, which was May's direct participation on the battlefield.  I think that Mayara, in addition to serving as a nurse, also fought on the front line when necessary (due to the fact that she was the representative of Brazil) and needed to be on the front line.  In my former HC she didn't go to the front. (I disagree with the 2021 me xd).

—  I don't believe that Alfred reciprocated any kind of feelings for May. She was an important piece for him, and so he courted her, to secure a new ally.  It was a benefits relationship.

— Besides Alfred.  There were FEW times where dialogues with England took place, this was due to the participation of Anglo-Brazilians on the English side (if I'm not wrong, in the area of ​​aviation, but I need to delve deeper into the topic).  An almost tiny interaction compared to the prevalence of Alfred's actions, which was immensely greater and also generated impacts.

PS: I don't ship BrAme/AmeBra, they are just friends.  However, Mayara, as I said, had strange feelings for him at some moments in history (I was reading an article about diplomacy 🇧🇷-🇺🇸, I realized that Brazil had a greater interest in getting closer to the USA for economic and regional power, that is, an admiration that aimed for benefits/just as the US aimed for strategic support/Mayara would support Alfred in anything, as she thought she would get support in return).

I used the word "courtship" as it was stated in this old History book (which I no longer have).  Alfred... used his charm against May. Lol.

Evidence of a strange obsession with Alfred:

Meet the United States of Brazil:

(I showed this damn flag to my dad he got disgusted lmfao)

[girlmeetscruelworldxx]

Main Masterlist

Requests: For now, I will take requests for characters to put on this list, but will stop eventually. If you want a specific story written about someone on this list, I will do that.

Boundaries: Please be respectful of my boundaries. I won’t write trans stories, gay stories (mxmxf/fxfxm 3somes are excluded), or anything along those lines, simply because that’s not what I’m into, NO HATE TO THE COMMUNITY!!!

……………………………….

• One Direction (No Liam because it feels disrespectful)

Harry Styles

Zayn Malik

Niall Horan

Louis Tomlinson

• The OG Bloodline

Roman Reigns

Jey Uso

Jimmy Uso

Solo Sikoa

•WWE

• Call of Duty

Simon “Ghost” Riley

John “Soap” MacTavish

Captain Price

Gaz

Alex Keller

Alejandro Vargas

• The Walking Dead

Rick Grimes

Daryl Dixon

Glynn Rhee

Negan Smith

Shane Walsh

Abraham Ford

Tyreese Williams

• Random Characters

Rio (Good Girls)

Theo James

Miguel O’Hara (Across The Spider Verse)

………………………………..

Give me more requests please🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Blow up my inbox with requests

[film-classics]

Carmen Miranda - The Brazilian Bombshell

Carmen Miranda (born Maria do Carmo Miranda da Cunha in Marco de Canaveses, Porto on February 9, 1909) was a Portuguese-born Brazilian singer. Nicknamed "The Brazilian Bombshell", she was known for her sass and signature fruit hat outfit that she wore in her American films.

Miranda was introduced to a composer while working at her family's inn, and she soon recorded her first single ("Não vá Simbora") in 1929.  She then signed a two-year contract with Rádio Mayrink Veiga, the most popular Brazilian station of the 1930s. Her rise to stardom in Brazil was linked to the growth of a native style of music: the samba.

At the invitation of US show business impresario, Lee Shubert, who saw her perform in Rio's Cassino da Urca, she came to Broadway and starred in hit musicals: The Streets of Paris and Sons o' Fun.

Her fame grew quickly, and she was formally presented to President Franklin D. Roosevelt at a White House banquet shortly after her arrival in the US.

When news of Broadway's latest star (known as the Brazilian Bombshell) reached Hollywood, Twentieth Century-Fox offered her a contract in 1941. Her most memorable film performances are in the musical numbers of films such as Week-End in Havana (1941) and The Gang's All Here (1943).

After World War II, Miranda's films at Fox were produced in black-and-white, indicative of Hollywood's diminishing interest in her. As a result, Miranda decided to produce her own films to limited success. Although her film career was faltering, her musical career remained solid and she was still a popular nightclub attraction. She continued to tour the US, Europe, and Latin America.

After filming a segment for the NBC variety series The Jimmy Durante Show, where complained of feeling unwell, she died at home in Beverly Hills, California from a heart attack. She was 46 years old.

Legacy:

Was the first contract singer in Brazilian radio history; subsequently, the highest-paid radio singer in Brazil in the 1930s

Chosen by former Brazilian president Getúlio Vargas as a goodwill ambassador in the United States in 1939

Was the first Latin American star to have a block in the forecourt of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in 1941

Was Hollywood's highest-paid entertainer and the top female taxpayer in the US in 1945, earning more than $200,000 that year

Has a museum in Rio de Janeiro, Museu Carmen Miranda, established in her honor in 1976

Received the Ordem do Infante Dom Henrique Grande Oficial, a Portuguese order of knighthood, in 1995

Has a square in Hollywood named Carmen Miranda Square with a ceremony headed by honorary mayor of Hollywood Johnny Grant and attended by Brazilian consul general Jorió Gama in 1998

Was one of 500 stars nominated for the American Film Institute's 50 greatest screen legends in 1999

Honored by the Museum of Modern Art in Rio de Janeiro in 2005 and the Latin America Memorial in São Paulo in 2006 with a Carmen Miranda Forever exhibit to commemorate the 50th anniversary of her death

Bestowed the Ordem do Mérito Cultural by the Ministry of Culture of Brazil in 2009

Was a part of a set of commemorative US Postal Service Latin Music Legends stamps, painted by Rafael Lopez, in 2011

Commemorated in the 2016 Summer Olympics closing ceremony with a tribute

Honored with a Google Doodle on her 108th birthday in 2017

Was the first South American honored with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 6262 Hollywood Boulevard for motion picture

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil wins 19 medals in international math competition

Six students from the Mathematics Department of the Scientific Technical Center of the Pontifical Catholic University of Rio de Janeiro (PUC-Rio) won six medals at the 31st International Mathematics Competition for University Students (IMC), held in Blagoevgrad, Bulgaria, from August 5–11.

The medals bagged by the PUC-Rio team gave the university first place among the six Brazilian institutions that took part in the event in this edition. There were two gold medals, corresponding to two first places in the competition for Brazil, as well as two silver and two bronze medals. Miguel Batista and Luis Felipe Pestana Giglio won gold.

Nineteen medals were won by Brazilian university students at the IMC altogether—three gold, nine silver and seven bronze. The other participating Brazilian institutions were the Getulio Vargas Foundation of Rio de Janeiro (FGV Rio), the University of São Paulo (USP), the Technological Institute of Aeronautics (ITA), the Federal University of Ceará (IFC), and the Federal University of Pernambuco (UFPE).

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