#Salo Press

[cherylmmbookblog]

#Blogtour The Venus of Salò by Ben Pastor

It’s a pleasure to take part in the Blogtour The Venus of Salò by Ben Pastor. About the Author Ben Pastor, born in Italy, worked as a university professor in Vermont before returning to her country.. She is one of the most talented writers in the field of historical fiction. In 2008 she won the prestigious Premio Zaragoza for best historical fiction. She writes in English.  About the…

[lullabyes22-blog]

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Ch: 26 - Charmed/Cursed

Snippet:

The only one who didn't smile was Jinx.

Posed in the center, she sat like an ethereal fey caught between worlds. At her throat, the Hex-gem glowed the color of polar twilight. She didn't flinch when the fireworks erupted. But her eyelids grew heavy. Her expression held an air of enigma, at once eerie and melancholy. Between flashbulbs, she dipped her head.

A peculiarity occurred—a sheet of dark clouds unfurled over the moon. A single spectral beam fell through the window. It dusted Jinx, motionless, with a preternatural radiance. A lovely demi-demon in a congregation of mortals.

Moments later the moon was unveiled again. A prank by the gods, or Janna herself.

"The Witch Bred For War," some headlines would say. Others: "Hex-gems: Charm or Curse?"

None would divine the truth.

Jinx, fatigued by the celebrations, had fallen asleep.

She neither heard the salutary speeches, nor feel felt the moonlight on her skin. But she must have dreamed, as children do. Of monsters and mayhem. Of war and peace.

Of, perhaps, a better world.

Until—

"Jinx!" a photographer cried. "Smile!"

Jinx jerked. A dozen flashbulbs popped.  Her reflexes kicked in, quick as lightning.

Or a grenade.

It flew skyward. The pin clattered to the carpet. Smoke plumed from the detonator.

Chancellor Silco reacted on instinct. He leapt forward, encircling Jinx, his body curved over hers. Councilor Talis surged in the same moment. He swept Councilor Medarda aside, her cry swallowed by the pandemonium. Hoskel hollered. Kiramman screamed. The rest of the guests scrambled back.

The camera's collective gaze, transfixed by the grenade, tracked its arc.

Glitter erupted in a purple spiderweb. Then it burst into a million tiny lights. A supernova in miniature.

It was, as it turned out, a prank. One of Jinx's glitter-bombs.

Relief broke in a thunderclap. Councilor Shoola sagged, her silk handkerchief pressed against her gleaming forehead. Councilor Salo, having ducked behind Councilor Kiramman's skirts, peeked out.  Baron Chross heaved a mighty laugh that ended in a bronchial hack. Baroness Margot, whose heels had snagged on the carpet, was assisted to her feet by Councilor Hoskel. Some guests chuckled nervously. Others, braver, applauded. Even Councilor Talis' lips twitched, though it was with sheepishness when he realized that his protective embrace had landed him and Councilor Medarda in compromising proximity.  She, it must be said, did not seem to mind. Her palm starfished his chest. They shared a private look, and disentangled.

All eyes fell upon Chancellor Silco and Jinx.

His body still sheltered her in an embrace. She peered up at him, eyes wide. Then her lips split into a woozy grin. In that moment, Zaun's most notorious looked as guileless as a child does upon opening a box full of surprises. Her tiny hands clutched the Chancellor's lapels. She nuzzled in, a laugh bubbling up. 

"Oopsie!"

The Chancellor's teeth flashed like razors—he didn’t need an instant to orient himself; he knew exactly what had happened—before his scarred features rearranged themselves. The ferocity of instinct was subsumed by such a pitch of paternal tenderness that he scarcely resembled the same man. He smoothed his knuckles down the curve of Jinx's skull. His eyes passed in a head-to-toe scrutiny, a predator ensuring his pup was intact.

Only after he'd satisfied himself did he turn to the cameras. His expression dared a single flashbulb to go off. He did not offer a smile. The press was not permitted to record the Chancellor's slip into tenderness. But the ferocity of his encompassing embrace spoke for itself.

Recalling the scene now, at the remove of fifty years, I am always struck by the chance alignment: a flashbang, a furor, and a father's love on full display. Somehow, it was as fateful as the commemorative photograph. All the future times I would spend in the Chancellor's company, in the most intimate of circumstances, and yet this struck a tenor that resonated long after the rest was forgotten.

A thousand photographs could not do it justice.

As it was, not a single photo was taken. The Chancellor straightened, one arm still loosely encircling Jinx. She swayed, tucked against his side. Adrenaline crash, I would later learn. It drags at the body like an undertow. Her lids drooped. With a fingertip, she sketched something across the Chancellor's shirtfront.

X-O-X-O.

The Chancellor's eyes flicked down, then up. The barest nod. Then he turned to his guests.

His farewell, in the characteristic graveled tenor, was faithfully recorded.

In later years, it would be quoted more than any of the Chancellor’s diabolic masterpieces of oratory. The statement would serve to characterize his entire tenure. From the burning night he took the oath of office to the last of his days: a man who could seamlessly transition from sanctioning atrocity to safeguarding family. A man of split faces, and a dozen facets.

A man who wore each with consummate flair.

"War," he said, "hath murder'd many. Jinx past her bedtime? Let’s not tempt fate further."

AO3 - Forward, But Never Forget/XOXO

FFnet - Forward, But Never Forget (XOXO)

Playlist on Youtube

@the-blue-quetzalcoatl @frostybearpaws @klorophile @kothelina @lilyreira @hannibalcatharsis @tiredblueann @typewriteringalaxy @theillestofomens @erikadarleyensis @testsubject24601 @elviriel @inconspicuouspotatosack @heroinejinx @aliaa-j @zaunite-leo @silcodependent @karnaca78 @aeolid-funkt @me-and-my-hyperfixations @yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy @medic-simp @cthezaunite @evren-d @flower-of-zaun @villainsidechick @spoczkotszcz @realitycanbewhateveridesire @opheliawillowbrook @nogurlstoy @mj678 @revelisms @shahs1221 @gingersforeverbox @inkshine @silcosmoke @ravenkinnie @letters-to-rosie @lbulldesigns @slavicbeastie @constantfragmentation @danally20 @thatlonelyweeb @callmeanifan-blog @thekelpiekid @not-yet-the-wolf @beardedladyqueen @littledollll @gritzzlybear @catgoblinchelly

[talafamily]

Donation link

Please do all you can to donate

any amount to help. My family needs your help.

.Press every button

@90-ghost @sayruq @sar-soor @appsa

@just-browsing1222 @palestinegenocide @mangocheesecakes @girlinaf##family #love #care freels #explore #peaceful

#subhanallahwabihamdihi #subhanaallah

#alhambra #yaallah #halallovestory

#muslimlifestyle #muhammadsaww #journey

#halallovequotes #exploremore #reelsinstagram.airytale @ophanic @nabulsi @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @ibtisams-deactivated20240709 @vakarians-babe @el-shab-hussein @taamarasmilee-blog @humanvoicebox @plomegranate @feluka @commissions4aid-international @soon-palestine @palestinegenocide @northgazaupdates2 @ghost-and-a-half @kyra45-helping-others @kyra45 @commissions4aid-international @feluka @feluka-blog-blog @lonniemachin @rhubarbspring @degenderates @radioactive-corpsegirl

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Ira Stoll

An encouraging development in the Israel-Hamas war is that the online pro-Israel press watchdogs finally seem to be getting the upper hand over the New York Times.

A few recent examples tell the story.

A New York Times Sunday opinion article by Megan Stack, headlined “Don’t Turn Away From the Charges of Genocide Against Israel,” was authoritatively debunked by Shany Mor in a thread on X that has attracted nearly a quarter-million views.

Mor faulted Stack’s piece for “rank dishonesty,” noting that it “truncated” the “legal definition of genocide,” omitting “a crucial part of the definition.” Mor also faults the Stack piece for misquoting Israelis to depict them, falsely, as having genocidal intent.

More concludes: “Rather than trawling the internet for truncated quotes, we might want to investigate why so many of our self-appointed humanitarians have spent decades fantasizing about the day when they could drag the Jews in before a tribunal to face the charge of being the real Nazis.”

A column by Nicholas Kristof that also ran in the Sunday New York Times got a similar online dragging, and deservedly so, from the X account of Salo Aizenberg. Aizenberg noticed that in a comparison between American bombing Iraq and Israel bombing Gaza, Kristof used a comparison that started in 2004 rather than 2003. “To push fake narrative one must misrepresent,” Aizenberg wrote, in a post that attracted more than 380,000 views. “If one seeks to compare US & Israel bombing numbers to draw conclusions one MUST begin with the start of each invasion. Anything else is grossly misleading.” Aizenberg described the Kristof column as “statistical manipulation and a “major misrepresentation.”

The Kristof column conceded, “The attack on Oct. 7 was particularly savage, and no doubt my perspective would be different if I had been on the receiving end.” No doubt!

[melmedarda]

@meljaymicrofics   ⸻ mafia au ⸻ wc: 755 ⸻ rated T

Piltover, the playground for the wealthy. Her mother's wetdream. Casinos, seaside resorts, yacht clubs, the city has it all. And it all belongs to Mel. Her mother runs the syndicate in Noxus on drugs and weapons smuggling. Mel deals in vice. In desire. And though so well acquainted, she doesn't see her own hunting her down until its too late.

She's got the Mayor of Piltover in her hand. The previous Mayor had been a short, mousy sort of man, with whiskers too big for his round face and policies that mirrors something from last century. But this mayor is sleek, ambitious, and weak for power. It's why Mel chooses Salo. It's something she can give him.

She's got the man in Zaun in her palm as well. Though he doesn't know it. Silco. A man who serves her purposes more than his predecessor. He is leader of his own gang, and keeps the chembarons in hand, while Mel runs her dark operations under the cover of the Gray. It works quite well for her. She likes playing in Zaun's shadows.

It is House Ferros who has the Enforcers in hand; a forcer of blue hats tasked with the protection of the city. Truly though, they operate at Camille's bidding. Camille has never forgiven Mel for taking Zaun from beneath her grasp. Mel will never apologize. And so she is hunted.

Their hunting dog is a man too sincere for his own good. Jayce Talis sculpted by the gods, and his eyes inspire a pool of want in Mel's abdomen. But he's a hound with a scent, and she knows he'll break his teeth in her neck if he catches her. She wonders if she'll let him.

Talis pursues her across districts. Between cities. Mel does not fear him. Leaves notes of her perfume to keep him on her scent. Sly smiles at security cameras where she knows she will be seen. Her men hover, guard her closely on her way back from the Mayor's office. She meets his gaze from where across the street. Pulls her fur coat closer about her shoulders in the cool afternoon. She looks away.

Their cat and mouse game is a highlight in her life for a moment. He's ever so close, but not close enough. Not until she's pressed up against a wall outside the Last Drop, the night air thick with shimmer and bass and gray. Cold metal of a barrel pressed into the flesh of her side.

His breath is vapor in the chilled Zaun air. Winter has come, and so has he. But she's never felt warmer than in his presence. And with his gun against her side, Mel feels hotter than the fucking sun.

"So you've found me,” she says. Her knife is trained on his throat, blade winking neon in the dim light of the alleyway. Jayce Talis looks like he might kill her, and Mel feels the more alive for it. Her men are no where to be found. Mel leans forward her lips ghosting against his ear as she leans up and closer. "What will you do, Talis? Now that you've caught me."

His nostrils flare. Perhaps in indignation. Perhaps in something else. One can never be to sure when in Zaun. His teeth bare now, like to good hunting dog he is. Mel wants him at her throat. Drawing blood.

"You belong behind bars. You are vermin." Passion flares in his eyes. The kiss of the gun grows warm against her skin, and she tilts the knife at his neck to kiss him in turn. He does not flinch. "If there is any justice in this world, I will see you punished for your crimes."

"Take me, then," Mel murmurs. Drops her knife. Listens to it clatter against the cobblestone as she stands defenseless before him. The gun lowers, and he presses her further into the wall, body a furnace against her own. She could burn in a hell of his making, she thinks as she leans up again, this time to press her lips against his.

His hand comes up to encircle the column of her neck, none too gentle. Her eyes flutter open as he presses her back, and away. Talis' eyes are glazed, lips slick, and it softens the heat of his glare. Her own personal vice. And then, she slashes him with the other knife she'd hidden within her jacket. Deep, across his chest.

"Nothing personal, Talis." The gun clatters. Mel does not look back.

[night-spectrum]

Thinking about my spidersona:

Small angst; small suggested smut at the end; mostly fluff and comfort. TW: Mention of death, depression, healthy issues, and isolation.

Wish my computer could work so I could draw my Spidersona...😩

🕸 Spidersona, who was bitten by a funnel web spider (💀) and is still traumatized. She takes appointments with Spider-Therapist every Thursday. Spider-Cat helps her copes with stressful memories.

🕸 Spidersona, who's Caribbean and wears traditional superhero suit. Bright madras tissues wrapped around her head and hips and Creole earrings (hoop earrings).

🕸 Spidersona, who was the only Spider-Girl in Nouveau Fort in Martinique (don't look for it, I made it up, but it's based on Fort-de-France) until a certain Miguel "Fat Ass" O'Hara came to enroll her.

🕸 Spidersona, whose best person is clearly Pavitr because we support cultural representation, and obviously because he's the most adorable boy I've ever seen. ❤️ Besides, they usually chat about new clothes they like to embellish their suit and wardrobe.

They even have Indian nickname for each other : Pavitr is Munna (used for pretty and gentle boy), and Spidersona is Choti (used for girls and means small) based on this.

🕸 Spidersona, who loves dancing with Gwen late at night in her home. Spidersona shows Gwen how to move her butt like there's no tomorrow, and Gwen gives her tips to achieve a boneless split. There're also countless sleepovers and "Girls Talk" about boys, which is pretty much awkward at first, but they both like gossiping.

🕸 Spidersona, who has the fattest crush on Hobart "Hobie" Brown, 'cause let's be honest who wouldn't. Always avoiding him when he comes her way. Obviously, Hobie notices, and he thinks she doesn't like him or his style makes her feel uneasy.

🕸 Spidersona eventually confesses that she likes him :

"That's why you've been dodging me, luv?" Hobie rhetorically asks her, his full lips stretching into a genuine smile.

She feels her face heating up and her hands becoming sweaty. "Yeah, but I don't expect anything y'know. Just wanted to tell you..."

Hobie leans forward, and she presses her lips together, gazing down because she never noticed how interesting the ground could be. She feels his breath on her neck, and she shivers when his lips plant on her cheeks fondly.

"You're too cute, luv."

From that day, he's always close to her. His arm rests on her shoulders, and he's never too far when they're fighting anomalies. They both rely on each other when something goes wrong.

🕸 Spidersona, who curses in Creole when she's pissed.

"WHO STOLE MY SALTFISH ACCRA?! AY KOKÉ MANMAN ZOT! LAN DJET MANMAN ZOT! OU SÉ AN SAKRÉ TI ICH SALO-!"

"Wow! Wow! Okay, okay, we got it. That's enough bad words for today, luv." Hobie covers her lips and drags her out to cool down a bit.

Peter B. covers Mayday's ears, though he doesn't understand a thing he knows what she's saying isn't lovely.

🕸 Spidersona, who has arachnophobia, watches Penni petting her spider with disgust (don't get me wrong, her spider is adorable, but I don't want it near me). Miles makes fun of her and eventually chases her with random spider he finds around through the lobby.

🕸 Spidersona, who slips in Hobie's universe to spend some time together. She watches him play guitar on his bed and turns red when he hands her his instrument and sits behind her, his fingers brushing hers as he teaches her how to play.

🕸 Spidersona, who brings Martinican food to Mrs. Morales when she comes to visit Miles. Rio observes her chat with her son from afar along with Jefferson.

"She looks nice," Rio says after a while, still looking at them, "and she calls me 'Mrs. Morales." Her lips turning upward.

"Yeah, definitely Caribbean. Besides, I love these." Jefferson says, grabbing a slice of butter bread she made with her mom, accompanied by communion chocolate.

Spidersona and Miles look at their feet awkwardly, feeling Miles' parents' gaze on them.

"'M sorry 'bout my parents, they're... protective."

"Yeah, don't mention it. My mom does this, too."

🕸 Spidersona, who invites everyone one in her universe in Nouveau Fort. The tropical climate welcomes them fiercely, and everyone change to wear swimsuit. Peter B. applies sunscreen on Mayday and himself and lays down on a towel.

🕸 Hobie and Pavitr bury Miles in the sand, mermaid body in process as Spidersona and Gwen take Mayday to a swimming lesson, her Spider-Man rubber ring assisting her.

"Damn Gwen, you're red as hell." Spidersona hands her Peter's sunscreen, snorting.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny."

...

🕸 After 3 weeks and still no news from her, Hobie and Pavitr head to her universe. When they slip into her bedroom through the window, they find her in her bed, barely breathing. Pavitr rushes to her, worry in his eyes as he brushes her now sunken cheeks. She hardly opens her eyes, dried tears staining her face.

🕸 Hobie takes her face in his hand, caressing her cheekbones slowly before kneeling to be face level with her. He takes her blanket off her, and it pains them to see how much weight she lost. They can clearly see her ribcage under her skin.

As they discuss what to do, they hear her mother's voice in the living room. She sounds exhausted, her voice quavering.

"I don't know what to do, mom. She hasn't eat anything in days and she keeps losing weight. The doctor said we should bring her to the hospital because of her iron deficiency and underweight. Otherwise, her anemia might come back and-" her voice cracks, as she can't handle her overwhelming emotions. The phone slips from her grasp as she falls on her knees.

🕸 Hobie grabs her without hesitation and opens a portal, quickly followed by Pavitr. He mumbles apologies when she groans pain. When they arrive, Hobie pushes open the medical department's door with his foot. Spider Meds are quick to take care of her, using advanced medical tech.

🕸 Spidersona, who wakes up after 2 weeks, looking less of a momified monk. She sees a red-haired baby lying down on her belly. She recognizes Mayday, and Peter B. reaches out, his hand caressing her head.

"We missed you." He says genuinely, worry fading away and replaced by a look parents would give to their child after they injured themselves.

🕸 Spidersona, who just cries. Her pain and grief pouring out of her chest and she can't help it. Peter B. hugs her tightly, kissing her forehead.

🕸 Miles appears and stands still when he views the scene, his brain analyzing everything. He comes close, taking her hand in his, squeezing it kindly. When Peter lets go of you, Miles replaces him.

🕸 Spidersona, who after she calmed down, thanks them and asks where the others are, only to find out that they are on a mission.

🕸 Spidersona, who is surprised to see Spider-Man Noir paying her a visit, flower is his hands.

"Everyone's been worried about you." Miles explains, her hands still in his. "When Hobie and Pav came back with you almost dead, we freaked out."

"Jessica even talk to your mother so she wouldn't pass out when she found out you disappeared." Adds Spider-Man Noir.

She is grateful but also a bit ashamed she worried everyone.

"So... what happened?" Peter B. asks cautiously.

She looks up to him and tries to suppress the tears, creating in the corner of her eyes.

🕸 Spidersona, who wasn't fast enough to save her uncle Henry and faced the reality of the world.

Though everybody can relate, Miles feels like he knows exactly what she feels. He remembers when he found out that Uncle Aaron was the Prowler, the look in his eyes when he discovered Miles was Spider-Man. His hand slipping from his as he exhaled his last breath.

🕸 Spidersona, who spends her day with Miles since Peter went home to put Mayday in bed. She eats empanadas Miles brought for her.

"My mom made them for you. When I told her you were hospitalized, she wouldn't stop asking about you. Besides, since we didn't know when you would wake up, she made some every day." Miles scratches the back of his head; cheeks and ears red. He knew his mom liked you, maybe too much for his liking.

"Well, please, thanks her for me. This is delicious. My taste buds are dancing hard right now." She giggles, making Miles smile.

🕸 Spidersona, who eventually encounters Jessica and Miguel. She thanks the pregnant woman, hugging her slightly, knowing she's not a big fan. To her surprise, she rubs her back and smiles.

🕸 Spidersona, who turns to Miguel reluctantly and apologizes for being off without warning. He brushes her off, as usual, talking about how it was her canon event. Gee thanks.

🕸 Spidersona, who hears familiar voices. She turns around, and there they are : Gwen, Hobie and Pavitr. She launches herself on them, arms fully extended. Pav sees her first and rushes toward her. They both collide, their hands grasping any pieces of clothes, hugging like the world would disappear.

"I missed you so much, Choti." Pav cries, his hands hold her tightly. "You almost gave a heart attack. Don't do this ever again, please. I love you."

And she cries again, hearing her best friend voice trembling.

"I'm so sorry, Munna. I promise. I love you so much, too."

Gwen joins in, her lips quivering, and they open their arms for her to come.

🕸 Spidersona, who wipes her face after a while, then proceeds to notice Hobie, who stayed back. Pav hugs her one last time, then leaves with Gwen. She approaches Hobie, not sure why she feels so nervous all of a sudden.

🕸 Spidersona, who follows Hobie to his universe, their pinky intertwined. When they are both alone in his room, he smashes his lips against hers.

🕸 Spidersona, who feels like a tsunami washed over her: emotions and feelings blending in her core. It's slow at first but quickly bursts into a wildfire when she feels his body against her. It feels strange, and she's a bit insecure, but Hobie reassures her. It's overwhelming.

"Are you okay, luv?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, like she'll shatter if he's too loud.

"Yeah. I am."

🕸 Spidersona, who slowly moves on, enjoys her life with those who remain and never forgets those who left.

[thedustybunny]

Chamomile kisses - Chapter 10

Viktor (Arcane) x Fem!Reader

As days passed, (Y/n) delved deeper into her research on the peculiar yellow flower from the Zaun forest. The potential of this discovery was exhilarating, and her mind buzzed with the myriad of possibilities. She tirelessly analyzed the properties of the pollen, noting its vasodilative effects on the human body. This was groundbreaking, not just for herbal medicine but for modern medicine as well. The medicinal applications seemed endless, ranging from treating high blood pressure to addressing heart failure, and who knew what other conditions could benefit from this newfound knowledge.

Yet, amidst this scientific excitement, (Y/n) couldn't help but wonder about Viktor's absence. Had he been avoiding her? Or was he preoccupied with his own work? The uncertainty nagged at her, but she knew her research was crucial, so she pressed on.

As her findings continued to flourish, (Y/n) took a significant step by scheduling a meeting with the council. She hoped to persuade them to allocate resources for a greenhouse at the academy, a space where she could further develop her discoveries and adapt them for various medical applications. It was a bold move, but she believed in the potential of her work to transform the world of medicine.

The day of the meeting had arrived, and (Y/n) stood resolutely before the council members. The faces of Bolbok, Kiramman, Hoskel, Medarda, Salo, Shoola, and Heimerdinger stared back at her, a mix of anticipation and curiosity in their expressions. (Y/n) had garnered considerable support from them in the past, but today she was requesting a substantial increase in funding, a decision that would carry a significant cost.

Viktor, positioned among the onlookers, watched with a cold and unyielding gaze.

Undeterred, (Y/n) began her presentation, outlining the importance and potential impact of her research. She passionately described the vasodilative properties of the Zaun forest flower and how it could revolutionize both herbal and modern medicine. The council listened intently, and as the room gradually settled, Heimerdinger, the most senior council member, voiced his support for (Y/n)'s project.

"I don't see why not to grant this," Heimerdinger said, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Unless anyone has any objections, we will provide the necessary funding."

A spark of joy lit up (Y/n)'s face upon hearing these words. She was so close to achieving her dream, but that dream was suddenly cast into doubt by Viktor's sharp voice. He stood up, taking the opportunity to voice his numerous objections.

Viktor vehemently argued against (Y/n)'s herbal remedies, denouncing them as pseudoscience that had no place within the academy. He claimed that such funding could be better utilized in more worthwhile areas of research, dismissing her work as a stain on true scientific progress.

The atmosphere in the council chamber became tense as Viktor launched into his objections, his words a sharp contrast to Heimerdinger's earlier support.

"You can't seriously be considering funding this nonsense!" Viktor exclaimed, his voice dripping with disdain as he pointed at (Y/n) and her presentation. "Herbal remedies have no place in our pursuit of true scientific advancement. We should be allocating our resources to projects that actually matter."

(Y/n) bristled at Viktor's words, her frustration evident. "Viktor, I've presented evidence of the potential benefits of this research. It could save lives, revolutionize our approach to medicine—"

Viktor interrupted, his tone cutting. "What you're proposing is a waste of valuable resources. We need to focus on technological advancements, not rely on outdated practices."

Council members exchanged glances, some appearing torn by the debate unfolding before them. Hoskel, known for his pragmatism, spoke up, addressing Viktor. "While we appreciate your perspective, Viktor, we should consider all avenues of research. If (Y/n) believes this could yield promising results, it's worth exploring."

Viktor scowled but didn't back down. "You're all blinded by sentimentality. This is about science, not feelings."

(Y/n) shot back, her voice determined. "And science is about progress, innovation, and the pursuit of knowledge. Closing off potential avenues of research is a disservice to our commitment to advancement."

The debate continued, the room filled with passionate arguments from both sides. It was clear that this decision would have a lasting impact on the academy's direction and (Y/n)'s future.

The room seemed to hang on a precipice as (Y/n) and Viktor locked eyes, their argument escalating. Heimerdinger's voice, when it came, was a bellow that echoed through the chamber. "Enough!"

The council members fell into immediate silence, their attention drawn to the diminutive yordle at the center of the room. He gave Viktor a brief, sympathetic glance, knowing the inner turmoil his protege must be experiencing. "Viktor, my dear boy," Heimerdinger began in a voice that was both gentle and firm, "we value your concerns. Science, after all, thrives on skepticism and debate. However, we must also consider the potential benefits to the academy. The revenue generated from (Y/n)'s research could fund countless projects for generations to come."

Heimerdinger turned his gaze towards (Y/n), a twinkle of approval in his eyes. "And that's why, (Y/n)," he addressed her, "you will be granted the permission and funding to continue your work."

Viktor tried to interject, his frustration palpable, but Heimerdinger cut him off with a raised hand. "Enough," he reiterated, his voice commanding. "This session is over."

With those words, the council members began to disperse, leaving behind a defeated Viktor and a triumphant (Y/n). It was a moment of victory for her, yet the growing divide between her and Viktor couldn't be ignored, casting a shadow over her elation.

As the council meeting concluded, (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Triumph coursed through her veins, the sweet taste of victory lingering on her lips. She had won this battle for now, securing the funding and permission to further her research. It was a significant step forward in her quest to revolutionize medicine.

However, she couldn't ignore the heavy atmosphere that had settled in the room, much of it emanating from Viktor. His defeat was palpable, and his resentful glare bore into her back as she made her way out of the council chamber. The divide between them had deepened, a vast chasm of opposing beliefs and priorities.

Outside the meeting room, (Y/n) couldn't help but ponder the cost of her victory. Her once-friendly interactions with Viktor had devolved into bitter arguments and icy silence. The camaraderie they had once shared seemed irreparably shattered.

Jayce, who had been observing the proceedings from the sidelines, approached (Y/n) with a congratulatory smile. "That was quite the battle in there," he remarked, clearly impressed.

(Y/n) returned his smile, though it was tinged with sadness. "Yes, i suppose…" she sighed, casting a glance back at the council chamber where Viktor remained, a solitary figure surrounded by fading echoes of dissent.

With the victory she had long sought now in her grasp, (Y/n) couldn't help but wonder if it was worth the growing chasm between them. The path of progress had a price, and she had just taken a significant step down that road, leaving a deep divide in her wake.

[fostersffff]

Even taking Umineko's artistic liberties into account, I was trying to figure out how the Salo Republic pressing on the gold could look like the Ushiromiya family crest, but that ties it up in a neat little bow.

[danihwang882]

Hyunjin, Changbin, and Han will watch the personal songs after Twilight TONIGHT. Have it up right now but nofucking spoilers during a dosmestic dispute ignore with my parents. Might have to call police to press charges.

THE MOMENT WERE I WONT EVER RETURN TO PARENTS AFTER I MOVE OUT. EVEN IF HE DIES NO FUNERAL FOR THEM BECAUSE THE GRUNGE ON MY MOMS SHITTY ASS BEAHVIOR LIKE A SPOILED ONE CHILD CUNT. Soft safe word is now lollipop. Because of the fact I might call it off just because. 🍭Got evidance to show police for my dad slapping me. Glasses almost broken.

Just spent like 140 on more new clothes but also a tarot deck and oracle deck, no salo santo or sage. I wanna open a dark portal in parents house so they get fucked with. I just had one of my many metaphsyical shop keeps confirm I am chosen to see evidance of light and dar while being light.

My first metaphsyical friend was in shop today and she gifted me a small light amestst and my intution alone knew she was there.

personal unboxing of my crow tarot card deck. lets have fun with this awesome deck. cant wait to see it. also got a oracle deck with fem fairies on it and just did me a 8 card read and only positive.

first reading on it got like 5 major acanca where hANGMAN JUSTICE WHEEL OF FOUNTUNE The Hermit and the Strength card all came up. THOSE ARE HYUNJIN, FELIX AND ME ALL WORKING TOGETHER TO FLIP OUR SITUATIONS UPRIGHT. TWO MORE THE CHARIOT AND THE LOVERS I KNEW THOSE WHERE CLOSE IN THIS READING THE IT WASNT FINISHED. 7 MAJOR ACRANA IN ONE READING I HAVE NEVER GOTTEN THIS MUCH FROM MYSELF MUCH LESS ANY OTHER READER.

ALL THE MAJOR ACANNA IN THIS READING UPRIGHT EVEN BamBam and Jackson thanks guys. bows in friendship to you both again.

when doing tarot, you see the fool dont do more. its a hardcore sign to stop from what i have learned. its like a the grey area before it goes good to bad.i shuffled like playing cards 10 times and they all came up. what the fuck. the fuck the emperor right before the empress exactly what signs i was waiting my whole life for.

more like 2024 when you ally with your lightworker girlfriend.

i knew this reading was gonna be strong why because it made my uber and phone disfunction during trying to find a ride home after its buying.

do ypu understand how energy works now. you tap in on youtube and it all feeds the tarot decks. was streaming only stray kids during it.

[voidofryu]

Can you help me 🙏 please

This is Doaa's go fund me for them and their family. Please do your best in donating, sharing, or even engaging with this post so that it gains traction. It doesn't take much. Firstly, you can click on the link, and it will take you to the campaign itself. There, you can either press the donate now button or the share and copy link button to share the link to the campaign all around. You can also like and reblog this post so that more people can see this. Please help these Palestinian families find the peace and freedom that they need.

Free Palestine forever 🇵🇸 ❤️

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"...the activities of both the OBU [One Big Union] and the IWW [Industrial Workers of the World] in the Lakehead region did lead to increased surveillance by federal, provincial, and municipal authorities. The existence of the Monthly and other publications in the declassified files of American and Canadian archives indicates that authorities in both countries watched both organizations carefully. The RCMP and OPP [Ontario provincial police] were keenly aware that the IWW was indifferent to borders. Minnesota was an IWW stronghold in the United States. The Lakehead Finns, especially, were suspected of being influenced by cross-border radicalism. Suspected agitators were often arrested on both sides of the border. Worried about a possible repeat of Winnipeg in Northwestern Ontario, authorities identified the Lakehead as the centre of any potential problems and began to clamp down on the activities of all groups. Anything and anyone even remotely suspected of being revolutionary fell under surveillance. Suspected agitators were often arrested. The OPP in Northwestern Ontario worked closely with its American and RCMP counterparts in investigations involving the OBU and IWW. The proposed strike of January 1920, for example, saw RCMP, regional OPP, and District Intelligence Officers from St. Paul, Minneapolis, and Duluth all working together. Officials shared intelligence and coordinated their activities in an attempt to disrupt these organizations and arrest workers. The OPP concluded that the OBU and IWW were the same (even if they were in fact two separate bodies). They noted that most of the OBU organizers in the region had come from British Columbia and Minnesota. According to a plan adopted on both sides of the Minnesota-Ontario border, if a strike did occur, lumber companies would shut down and “try, and starve the strikers out.” Canadian and American authorities also worked together to stem the flow of socialist material between the two countries and to deport to Europe suspected Wobblies.

Following a tip from American authorities, the RCMP, for example, arrested William Salo of Fort William for possessing “socialist” literature. His Winnipeg lawyer, E.J. McMurray, described Salo’s actions as merely

stepping outside of the iron band that the government proposed to put around his mind, and desired to find out what was being done in the outside world, which the government endeavours to keep hidden from the eyes of the people of this country.

For McMurray, this was an issue of liberty and freedom from the growing intolerance of the Canadian government, which he compared to pre-revolutionary Russia. The case against Salo, he argued, was

a case of brainless police court jurisdiction, a performance by an immature mind on the magisterial bench that has made the justice of this land in many cases an object of contempt and enmity rather than a respected institution.

McMurray was also involved in the deportation case involving Sava W. Zura, a leading member of the Ukrainian League formed in April 1919. A resident of the Lakehead for over seven years, Zura’s bakeshop had been searched in late September and, after being apprehended by police at the border, he had been arrested and convicted for possessing “Bolsheviki” and IWW literature. Police in Fort William considered him the “main promoter” of “prohibited literature among the foreign element.” Workers in both cities rallied behind Zura, with Harry Bryan being the most notable voice. Despite the absence of prior transgressions and the testimony by many local residents as to his good character, Zura was sentenced to two years in Stony Mountain Penitentiary in Manitoba. Mrs. Zura was later apprehended by Immigration Department agents in Winnipeg, and was also interrogated concerning the evidence."

- Michel S. Beaulieu, Labour at the Lakehead: Ethnicity, Socialism, and Politics, 1900-35. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2011. p. 79-81.

[sarisinema]

Pier Paolo Pasolini photographed by Richard Avedon, New York, September 24, 1966

Pier Paolo Pasolini: His Films and His Death

27.04.24 - Blog Post #9

Pier Paolo Pasolini was a famous writer, film director and poet. Known for his films that criticized capitalism, the fascist government of the time, and depicted ancient European culture and myths, Pasolini was 53 years old when he was brutally murdered in Rome on November 2, 1975, and had just finished shooting his last film, Salo, which would be considered his masterpiece. Pasolini's body was found on the side of the road, badly beaten, repeatedly run over by a car, and set on fire before he died. The next day, a 17-year-old boy who had been caught speeding in Pasolini's car went to jail and claimed to have committed the murder. The press claimed that Pasolini had tried to seduce the boy because he was gay, so the boy attacked Pasolini to protect his honor. In 2005, the "killer", now an old man, spoke to the press and said that a group of five men had committed the murder and that there were others behind them. After this statement, it was almost certain that the government of the time had murdered Pasolini, who had always had problems with the government and criticized its policies in his films. So what had Pasolini done to deserve such a painful and horrible death, and what was the Italian government trying to show the public by killing him?

Pasolini's confrontation with the fascist government began when he was studying dialectics at university: Pasolini, who entered university in 1939 as the world was drifting into a new war, had this to say about the government that was terrorizing the public at the time:

"Fascism did not tolerate dialect, the symbols of the irrational unity of the country of my birth."

The use of dialect was also an act of breaking the hegemony of the church over the underdeveloped masses. Throughout his career, he began his criticism of the church and the fascist government for oppressing the working class, which he saw as the true representative of deep-rooted Italian culture, by writing for magazines. The Second World War was very difficult for him and the letters he wrote until his conscription in 1943 are enough to understand his state of mind:

"My health is good, not bad, good, everything is good. And morally, when everything is calm, which is rarely, that's good too. But other than that I'm very afraid, afraid of losing my life. Do you understand, Rico? Not only mine, but everyone else's too. We've all been so fated, poor naked human beings! I don't know if we'll ever see each other again. Everything smells of death and end and guns. It's disgusting to see these types fucking up the world. I'd like to spit on the earth, with yellow and sky-blue flowers and jewels on the branches, while the leaves spew green shoots."

Pier Paolo Pasolini, Young Portrait, Sixties. Photographer: Unknown 

The day after his conscription, Pasolini escaped during a scuffle with the Germans and, after wandering for a while in the Italian countryside, returned to the family home, where he began teaching. His brother Guido gave up hiding and joined the partisans. For two years Pasolini supported him financially and received letters from him describing the conflicts between the anti-fascist groups and what was happening during the war. In February 1945, Gudio survived a firing squad with a hundred other partisans and, wounded, walked to another village and took refuge in a woman's house. The soldiers took him out of that house, made him kneel in the snow against the wall and shot him. It was only after the war was over that Pasolini learned what had happened to his brother. He wrote these lines to a friend: "Sometimes I think of that road between Musi and Porzus, how my brother walked that road. My imagination becomes clear like an inexplicable white snowflake, like the brightness of the sky."

After the death of his brother and the end of the war, he returned to the university and after finishing his studies he worked as a teacher. He became close to the Italian Communist Party. His family blamed the communists for Guido's death, but Pasolini remained close to the party in order to resist the fascist government of the time. Because of his closeness to the party and the death of his brother as a partisan, his writings were harshly criticized by the right-wing press and he was blackmailed by powerful men of the Right to leave Rome. The worst of these blackmails was that he was accused of molesting three young children and was prosecuted in the press, although neither the children nor their parents ever pressed charges. Pasolini, who did not hide the fact that he was gay, was accused of pedophilia, which the right-wing press equated with homosexuality. Even after the cases were dropped and he was proven innocent, Pasolini, his reputation ruined, could no longer continue writing and lecturing and moved to the outskirts of Rome. As a gay and educated man, the difficult years he lived here would leave damage on his psychology, but it was also during these years that he had the chance to closely observe the working class that would be the subject of his films.

In 1953, Pasolini published his first book and was again subjected to insults and slander by the right-wing press. Accepting that his leftist acquaintances would not back him up and would not rescue him from the slums of Rome, Pasolini took a job as an art director on a low-budget film and began to expand his circle. He wrote the dialog for Fellini's La Dolce Vita, of which he was a great admirer, and opportunities began to present themselves for him to make his first film. Pasolini's first film as director and screenwriter was Accattone in 1961, again set among Rome's marginal communities, a story of pimps, prostitutes, and thieves that contrasted with Italy's postwar economic recovery.

Stills from Accattone, dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini (1961)

Teorema, based on his own book, maybe the first film to understand Pasolini's cinematic style: Surreal and allegorical, it tells the story of a typical bourgeois Italian family who are seduced one by one by a handsome stranger who comes to their home. The film makes almost no sense if one is not aware of Pasolini and the political climate of his time, when in fact the bourgeois family that is seduced is portrayed as hypocritical, perverted and twisted, capable of abandoning their values for the sake of pleasure. The only person in the film who truly feels guilty and punishes herself for what she has done is the maid, and she is the only character who achieves sanctity at the end of the film. Pasolini, who was constantly ridiculed for being gay and treated as a pervert, made fun of the right-wing by making the son of the family's father gay: The stranger and the son of the house look together at Francis Bacon's paintings of violence and homosexual intercourse, and the bourgeois boy, who has nothing to do in the midst of his material freedom and privilege, resents life by making worthless paintings after being abandoned by the stranger.

Stills from Teorema, dir. P.P. Pasolini (1968)

The mother of the house is seduced by a strange man who comes to the house. Far from regretting it, she seeks more pleasure and seduces a very poor young man and has sex with him in a hotel room. The mother's young daughter, who had been raised like a princess, also has sex with the stranger, and realizing that she can no longer be a bride for a rich bourgeois family because she is no longer a virgin, she stops eating and drinking and becomes mute.

Pasolini took revenge on the right-wing, who had been calling him perverted and immoral for years, and mocked them to such an extent that the film was banned by the government and Pasolini was declared an enemy of the people because he was able to attribute such perversions to the Italian families, the smallest unit of Fascist Italy. The book was confiscated from everywhere. Pasolini, now a world-renowned director, would continue to make films with support from abroad.

Although Pasolini came from a religious family and identified himself as a Catholic, he did not hesitate to criticize the church, which was closely linked to the fascist government. His film about Jesus Christ, The Gospel According to Matthew (1964), was criticized by the Church and the government. Pasolini, who had grown close to Italy's lower class, the working class, during his years living on the outskirts of Rome, believed that the most important reason why these people fell for the government's propaganda was the support of the Church. In fact, the fascist government, which cared neither for religion nor for traditional values, was able to bring the people to the consistency it wanted with the pressure of the church, which was flooded with money. Pasolini, who criticized capitalism as well as fascism, thought that the government and the Western world, in order to control the people, had separated them from their traditional values and turned them into empty customers. Pasolini was disgusted by the bourgeoisie riding on the backs of the lower class, the lower class which was confused about what to do with the empty words of the church, government propaganda and post-war poverty, and after Teorema he literally declared war on bourgeoisie.

The Gospel According to Matthew, dir. P.P. Pasolini (1964)

Porcile, my favorite Pasolini film, is based on two stories. In the first story, Julian, the son of a German factory owner, is unable to get out of bed for some unknown reason. His father's rival, Mr. Herdhitze, who has a Nazi past, seeks to blackmail the factory owner by using a trait of Julian's that is known to everyone but ignored by his family. In the other story, a young man living in an isolated mountain far away from people cannot resist the urge to kill people and eat their flesh, and becomes the head of a cannibalistic tribe. The film portrays the only son of a bourgeois family, supported by the state and the establishment, who is constantly committing crimes against humanity, as a rapist who breaks into peasants' pigsties and has sex with the pigs. Julian, who is promised to the daughter of another rich family, tries all sorts of ways to escape from her, falls into bed because of his repressed urges, and finally starts having sex with the peasants' pigs in order to suppress his sexual desires, which are against the world order. Julian, who should be punished for his inhuman behavior, is protected by his father's bourgeois position and the villagers are forced to keep quiet about the matter. In the end, Julian is torn apart and eaten alive by angry pigs. The wild impulses that humans have given up for protection and order cannot be controlled by the state and are punished by nature itself. Julian, an abnormality of nature, becomes the victim of his own victims.

Still from Porcile, dir. P.P. Pasolini (1969)

The other story is about a young man who has fled civilization: Like Julian, he harbors forbidden urges, but without the connections and money to protect him from the wrath of society, he seeks refuge on Mount Etna. Killing and eating the people he finds in poverty and hunger, he eventually gathers people like himself and forms a tribe on the mountain. He is eventually captured by the inhabitants of a nearby village and executed by the forces of civilization. Pasolini's use of two stories so different in both texture and time actually strengthens the impact of the movie: The scene transitions are so sharp that you realize you are watching a movie all the time. Julian and his fiancée talk theatrically and play games non-stop; the man who comes to blackmail Julian's father is a fake Hitler. In the bourgeois world everything is fake, a game, and stupid. The scenerio and how people behave are so stupid that you might think Pasolini is mocking your intelligence, but in fact he is mocking the bourgeoisie. Setting Mount Etna, an uncanny mountain without a trace of civilization, in front of the magnificent estate of the bourgeois family, Pasolini gives us a realism that chills you to the bone, thanks to Pierre Clementi's wonderful acting. The young man, who is unclear why he killed his father, eats human flesh and society comes to punish him, even if it is done out of sight. While Julian commits a direct crime against nature, the cannibal young man commits a crime against the rules of society and the church. Or so it is shown. Pasolini makes us question what it means to be human, what is a crime and what is not, where man's betrayal of nature should be taken seriously, where nature itself does what the state or the order cannot do (no matter how much the white man opposes and outsmarts nature, in this order the outlier is somehow eliminated). He states that the Italians were slaves of the Germans during and before the war, and that the fascists and bourgeois who think homosexuality and sexual freedom are perversions are the real perverts and are protected from the punishment that they deserve.

Pierre Clementi as the cannibal, in Porcile dir. P. P. Pasolini (1969)

Pasolini's last film was the last straw for the Fascist government he had mocked. Pasolini, who liked to touch on subjects that disgusted and sensitized people, adapted the book of Marquies de Sade, known as the father of sadism, for the cinema. Moving the story to the fascist Italy of the 1940s, Pasolini made what is still the most controversial and difficult to watch movie of all time. Set in Salo, a puppet government in Northern Italy during World War II, four of the city's leading fascists kidnap eighteen adolescents, nine girls and nine boys, and imprison them in a castle. Sexual abuse, physical and mental torture will continue for 120 days.

In the movie, young boys and girls who are hunted like partridges trying to escape in the countryside are subjected to various tortures by four rich and powerful politicians. Apart from the torturers and the tortured, there is also an old prostitute in the castle: She, like the captured youngsters, was once tortured and raped. She has been convinced that what she is going through is normal and has become a puppet of the bourgeois men. Sipping wine and powdering her face while the young men and women are being tortured, she acts as a bridge between the audience and the characters in the movie: She becomes a mirror for us, the audience, who have chosen to side with the evil and the powerful, or who have been brainwashed, who have learned to enjoy rape, who have been lulled to sleep with food, makeup, beautiful music and art. Thanks to this woman, one feels ashamed of oneself. Even though she does not physically take part in the rapes and tortures, she is as despicable as the torturers because she is only a spectator, just like us, the spectators. While so many terrible things are happening in the world, we, who are distracted by our toys given to us by capitalism and block our ears, squirm and writhe trying to watch Salo, because someone on the screen is just like us and we can neither call her good nor bad. In this way, Pasolini brings out our ego, which is normally suppressed when we watch movies. This, rather than the nudity and violence, is what makes Salo the most difficult movie of all time to watch.

Still from Salo or 120 Days of Sadom dir. P. P. Pasolini (1975)

In the film, Pasolini portrays the fascists as sadists. Everything they accuse "enemies of the people" and "communists" of doing, these four men do in excess. All four are pedophiles, and homosexuals (both passively and actively), they have no faith in God, no morals, no shame, no compassion. While Pasolini was targeted for years for being gay, in Salo he chooses to show directly that clergy and politicians are also gay, and many of them are pedophiles. These men, respectable and powerful on the outside, are isolated in their mansions, having sex with peasant girls and peasant boys, bending over them for the sake of fantasy and rolling on the floor like dogs. With Salo, the events are no longer allegory, but direct accusation. In one scene, these men who keep the prisoners on a leash, marry boys to boys and girls to girls, serve them shit on golden plates. Perhaps the most famous scene of Salo is like the summary of Pasolini's career: "Capitalism gives you shit on a golden plate."

Still from Salo or 120 Days of Sadom dir. P. P. Pasolini (1975)

Pasolini, who was murdered only a few weeks after the film's shooting, but whose death was covered up because he was gay and dissident, accused of pedophilia, was also trying to keep forgotten European myths and stories alive with his films Decameron and Arabian Nights to ensure that oppressed and alienated people did not forget their past. Attacking both the fascist and capitalist government from every possible angle, Pasolini is, in my opinion, the only director who completely succeeded in using cinema as a powerful weapon, as Walter Benjamin suggested. Almost fifty years after his death, it is good to know that a man once fought with everything he had against the political oppression and capitalism that surrounds us now. Long live Pasolini!

Still from Salo or 120 Days of Sadom dir. P. P. Pasolini (1975)

[beardedmrbean]

Ilta-Sanomat describes Sauli Niinistö's last week in the presidency as "a whirlwind of travel from country to country and city to city."

Niinistö has not been taking it easy, even though his term ends Friday when Alexander Stubb takes over as President of the Republic.

A week ago, on Thursday, Niinistö was still touring Finland. He visited his home town of Salo for the last time before the end of his second and final term in office.

From Salo, he headed for Windhoek, the capital of Namibia, where the funeral of President Hage Geingob took place over the weekend.

From Namibia, Niinistö flew back to Europe to Paris, the where he attended a meeting to reaffirm Western support for Ukraine, hosted by French President Emmanuel Macron.

Following that, Niinistö returned to Helsinki. On Wednesday he had his final formal meeting with the cabinet. On Thursday, Niinistö will hold his last press conference as president.

The week, and Niinistö's final term, will culminate on Friday in Parliament. At 11:50 am, Niinistö will inspect an honour guard in front of the Parliament for the last time. He and Stubb will then proceed to a plenary session of Parliament, where Niinistö will present an address to the house.

During that session, power will change hands and Stubb will become president.

Niinistö's legacy

The Uutissuomalainen news group asked three researchers what Niinistö's legacy will be and what issues from his time in office will go down in history.

Professor of Political Science Tapio Raunio from the University of Tampere, political scientist Johanna Vuorelma from the University of Helsinki and Associate Professor of Political History Johanna Rainio-Niemi from the University of Helsinki all believe that the last two years of Niinistö's presidency will define his legacy.

Rainio-Niemi said she believes that Niinistö will be remembered as a president who served during a time of upheaval, most remembered for Finland's quick ascension into Nato. Vuorelma also believes that Niinistö's legacy will be defined by Nato membership.

Vuorelma pointed out that Niinistö was not publicly in favour of Nato membership before Russia's attack on Ukraine. For example, in his New Year's speech before the Russian invasion, Niinistö said that Finland had a crisis-resistant foreign and security policy that did not need to be changed.

"Niinistö himself was not the one who dictated or persuaded the public to back this change," Vuorelma told USU.

According to Raunio, it would be wrong to say that Niinistö is the one who brought Finland into Nato. Raunio points out that during Niinistö's first ten years in office, practically nothing happened with regard to the western alliance.

"It was only when Putin invaded Ukraine in 2022 and public opinion changed that Niinistö and the rest of our political elite turned the corner and started moving towards Nato," Raunio noted.

Finnish arms in Russia

According to a report in Helsingin Sanomat weapons and ammunition produced by the Finnish arms industry companies Sako and Nammo Lapua have ended up in Russia despite the arms export ban.

In February, a report by the Russian online magazine IStories and the Italian newspaper Irpi Media claimed that Finnish arms and ammunition had ended up in Russia. HS says it has verified this information and obtained new information, for example on the routes of the weapons took from Finland to Russia.

According to some Russian war bloggers, these weapons and ammunition have also been used by Russian soldiers in Ukraine.

In total, reports HS, several million rounds of Finnish ammunition have ended up in Russia. Between 2022 and 2023, nearly 700 rifles made at the Sako factory in Riihimäki and about 67,000 boxes of Sako cartridges were registered in Russia. During the same period, about 174,000 boxes of Nammo Lapua cartridges were registered there.

Sako and Nammo Lapua denied to HS that they exported these products to Russia. According to the companies, the weapons and cartridges were exported to Russia without their permission and without their knowledge.

According to HS's investigation, the Sako rifles and parts entered Russia via Italy.

Lapua Sako is owned by the Beretta group, which is originally Italian. Nammo Lapua is part of the Nammo group, which is owned by Finland's Patria and the Norwegian state. The Finnish state owns 50.1 percent of Patria.

Household spending down

Karjalainen reports on a fresh survey showing that more than half of Finnish households have cut back on spending in order to balance their finances.

The survey, carried out by the pollster Taloustutkimus for the loan comparison service Sortter, asked households what measures they have used to offset rising interest rates and living costs over the past year. A majority, 54 percent of respondents said they had trimmed back on everyday spending on items such as food and medicine.

One in three said they had also spent less on energy. One in four has drawn on their savings.

Just over 40 percent of households reported having less money available to spend each month compared to a year ago.

English-only ban?

On Wednesday, MPs debated issues related to the use and status of Finnish, and what some members see as threats to the majority national language.

Ilta-Sanomat is among the papers reporting that Pekka Aittakumpu (Cen) issued a call for a tightening of language legislation along the lines of the French model. He believes that the Finnish language should be protected in particular from the dominance of English.

"The law could also require private sector operators to provide services in Finnish. In Estonia and France, for example, language law also applies to private service providers. In those countries, a café that provides service only in English is illegal," Aittakumpu was quoted as saying.

Aittakumpu also demanded that it should be possible to obtain degrees in Finnish at all educational levels.

"In many fields, it is no longer possible to continue studies in the national language after obtaining a bachelor's degree, as master's degree courses switch to teaching in English. This is not right. University funding must be more strictly linked to the opportunity of studying in Finnish," he argued.

Minister of Justice Leena Meri (Finns) told MPs that there are several government-initiated projects underway examining the status of the use of Finnish.

Minister of Education Anna-Maja Henriksson (SPP) pointed out that the national language strategy aims to ensure that the Finnish language does not become less widely used. She added, that on the other hand, speakers of Swedish, Finland's second official language, do not always receive even legally-mandated services in their mother tongue.

[rare-books-finder]

Creating an Instagram post for “A Social & Religious History Of The Jews – 18 Volume Set + Index”: Dive into the rich tapestry of Jewish history with this remarkable 18-volume set!

Author: Salo Wittmayer Baron Publisher: Baron Columbia Univ. Press, NY / Jewish Publ. Society Of America, 1952 Description: Complete in full blue cloth with gilt title to the spine, these volumes are in near-mint condition. This set is an invaluable resource for those interested in Jewish history, culture, and religion. ISBN: 9780231088381 / 0231088388

[444names]

spanish forenames + personality traits BUT excluding "c" and short

Abio Abried Abses Absess Abund Abunda Abundo Adania Adant Aded Adena Adent Adeo Adria Agant Agonal Agonza Agros Agua Aguada Aidad Aine Ained Airo Alban Albane Alber Alen Alent Aleral Alfo Alixto Almude Amayte Amelda Amia Ampara Anda Andino Andios Ando Andra Angeli Ania Aniel Anito Anized Antin Arano Armina Arre Arta Artive Assive Asuave Aura Aure Bara Baran Bastin Belena Bera Bern Bert Berto Blana Boyana Breedy Breet Brited Brut Dalena Damand Damasa Damaya Damia Damira Damiro Dania Daried Darina Daya Dema Deman Depen Derate Dere Derly Detent Devio Devish Dient Diff Dionio Dish Dished Dislow Disoda Disp Disres Dolfo Domina Doming Doro Dria Drian Dulen Dulena Earful Edgara Edual Egid Eles Elia Elina Elvia Emila Emina Emined Emingo Eneo Eneous Ening Enito Enture Envish Estavo Estern Estin Estran Eufemi Eulada Extran Fabra Fadria Fairo Faited Fana Fedey Feli Felia Felina Felio Felise Fernal Fier Filo Filome Fless Floran Forge Fran Frant Fraul Frenza Fridad Fried Friel Gallo Garant Gardo Garian Gena Geneo Genia Genito Gensio Gent Gina Ginary Gined Ging Gloof Goody Greezy Gresa Guile Gull Gullia Hana Hand Hardo Hate Hated Hateo Heady Heali Herous Hilio Hones Horteo Hummy Hurio Ided Ilde Imen Impled Impred Impula Inal Inded Indina Indio Ined Inida Inning Insual Insue Intema Intent Into Inturo Ireia Irrant Irrat Irre Irrita Isible Itable Ivate Jair Javia Javid Jorgar Jorgio Josuel Julias King Leanda Letito Lette Liable Libel Lible Lilant Lilar Loren Lorful Lous Loyana Lunt Magina Maging Mandra Mant Manuto Marian Maring Matial Matin Mating Mative Melda Mered Miro Modera Modes Monia Mooth Morous Mystea Nara Naran Narant Naro Nary Natal Nated Nating Native Nato Nature Neral Nero Noemia Nurio Obsent Obses Obsess Obviol Opinia Optive Ordere Ordid Ordida Ordina Orio Orious Pable Paine Pained Para Pare Pass Pative Patriz Paul Paulia Paulio Pedad Pela Peral Perful Perse Perved Pied Pila Plana Plate Playo Polito Pred Pres Presar Press Prigio Pring Prous Pured Quela Queta Quin Raque Raula Reali Realio Rego Reless Relia Renza Repen Repred Resent Resome Ress Restan Retful Rida Ridad Ridia Ridio Right Ritza Robert Rodria Rogant Romas Rosalo Rosar Ruina Ruine Salo Sando Saneo Sant Saulio Seban Seless Senia Senio Sent Sentle Serio Silia Sillen Simid Sing Solina Solish Solito Solute Sona Sonan Sordes Sorge Spoken Stan Stando Stavo Stea Steful Stema Sting String Striz Studia Sture Supe Supera Susane Taded Tadela Tanito Tast Tastin Teofia Teous Tern Thomas Thoro Tiago Timena Timo Titing Titive Trea Trena Triant Trina Trio Trious Triz Tron Trous Ulia Ulieta Ulio Unda Undo Ungrat Ungry Unilda Uning Uningo Unisto Unrea Unreat Unrely Unsta Uprina Urbano Urbid Valen Valera Vent Vero Verse Vinded Ving Vious Vivane Wardo Wises Yesent

[garadinervi]

June Jordan, Moving Towards Home (from 'Living Room' (1980-1984), 1985); in Naming Our Destiny. New and Selected Poems, Thunder’s Mouth Press, New York, NY, 1989, pp. 142-143 [Designed by Marcia Salo]

Shireen Abu Akleh (1971-2022) ♥