#@Stalin

[themetaphorical]

The Sibling Divide: Russia & Ukraine – A Family Story

The Sibling Divide: Russia & Ukraine – A Family Story Imagine a large, old family living on a massive estate for centuries. This family, despite having different personalities and traditions, has always lived together. Their shared history is deep—same ancestors, same culture, same struggles.For centuries, Ukraine was not a separate country, but a key part of the Russian world. It was known as…

[depresed-duck]

COMMUNISM!!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

[lilliankillthisman]

Everyone thinks of Austen as victorian and Stalin as russian but they were actually both georgian... one of many shared traits

[milfstalin]

[incognitopolls]

Georgia the country. Not the US state.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[tamamita]

I'm crying, they're so stupid

[phobic-human]

"The point is that Marxism and Anarchism are built up on entirely different principles, in spite of the fact that both come into the arena of the struggle under the flag of Socialism. The cornerstone of Anarchism is the individual, whose emancipation, according to its tenets, is the principal condition for the emancipation of the masses, the collective body. According to the tenets of Anarchism, the emancipation of the masses is impossible until the individual is emancipated. Accordingly, its slogan is: 'Everything for the individual.' The cornerstone of Marxism, however, is the masses, whose emancipation, according to its tenets, is the principal condition for the emancipation of the individual. That is to say, according to the tenets of Marxism, the emancipation of the individual is impossible until the masses are emancipated. Accordingly, its slogan is: 'Everything for the masses."

- J. V. Stalin, Anarchism or Socialism?

[sovietpaintings]

Великая Дружба | The Great Friendship;

Dmitry Nalbandyan, 1950.

[mirrored-muse]

Pla pls pls shauna being dependent on us without even being friends?

-sharing the hut with shauna strapman bcs she said so

-she wears you clothes

-she writes in her diary about you looking DIRECTLY at you

-she announces that you dating after learning that you are indeed gay af

MAN I LOVE BISEXUAL STALIN

ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ | ꜱ.ꜱ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1079

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ꜱʜɪᴘᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛᴡ: ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ (ᴡʜᴀᴛꜱ ɴᴇᴡ). ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ, ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʟᴍᴀᴏ ʙɪꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴛᴀʟɪɴ.

You start to notice that your things are going missing.

A sweater here, a pair of socks there. The first few times, you assume it’s just the chaos of camp. Maybe someone else took them, maybe you misplaced them. Nothing is yours out here, not really. But then you catch her wearing one of your shirts. Not by accident, Shauna Shipman doesn’t do accidents. It’s a little too big for her, and falls loosely off her shoulders in a way that makes it obvious she knows exactly whose it is.

One day she catches you staring. She doesn’t look away, just raises her eyebrows like, Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?

You say nothing. Maybe because you’re a little scared of her. Or maybe because, deep down, you really don’t mind.

You and Shauna aren’t even friends. She barely speaks to you. She’s sharper than most of the knives in camp, known for cutting people down with a single glance or a clipped insult. You’ve heard her yell at Mari over nothing, push past Lottie like she isn’t there, snap at Van for chewing too loud.

But when it comes to you, it’s different. She’s still quiet. Still intense. But not cruel. Not cold.

And lately, she’s always nearby.

She walks with you when you go to gather wood. Not talking, just close enough that you hear her breathing. She sits beside you at the fire, even if there’s space elsewhere. You catch her staring, all the time, and when you glance back, she doesn’t look away.

You find her writing in her journal one afternoon. Everyone knows she has one. You’ve never been curious until now. She’s sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, her journal open in her lap, but she’s not looking at the page. She’s looking at you.

You tilt your head. “What are you writing about?”

She doesn’t blink. Just keeps scribbling. “You.”

You laugh nervously. “Kind of weird, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care if it is.”

You should be unnerved. But you’re not. You just feel… seen. In a way, you hadn’t before.

And then it escalates.

She insists on sharing your hut.

There’s no vote, no conversation. She just shows up one night with her blanket and knife and sets up camp in your little corner of the clearing like she’s always belonged there.

“Shauna, you can’t just—”

“Yes, I can.” She glares at you like she’s daring you to challenge her. “You don’t snore. You don’t talk in your sleep. It makes sense.”

You stare at her. “That’s it?”

Her lips twitch, almost like a smile. She doesn’t answer.

⸻

You start noticing the little things.

How she always leaves food for you, even when there’s barely enough to go around. She throws a rock at a raccoon that gets too close to your shoes at night. Once, you tripped on a tree root and she grabbed your arm like you were made of glass, keeping you from falling.

But she still doesn’t say anything. Not directly. Not about how she watches you, sleeps inches from you, and writes about you like it’s second nature. She just acts like you’re hers.

So you decide to act like you are.

You sit beside her at the fire, pressing your shoulder into hers deliberately. You see her stiffen. You reach into your makeshift bag and pull out your extra shirt, the one she always steals, and hand it to her without a word. She takes it, quiet, eyes flicking up to meet yours. You don’t look away.

That night, she curls up beside you without asking.

⸻

The next day Mari tries to hand you a chunk of jerky during rations. It’s hard-earned, and you’re starving, but before you can take it, Shauna’s hand is already on your wrist, light, but firm.

“She doesn’t eat that.”

Mari raises an eyebrow. “It’s meat. We all eat that.”

Shauna tilts her head, slow, like she’s thinking through whether it’s worth getting into. “It’s burnt. I said she doesn’t eat that.”

You blink at her. So does Mari. But then Shauna calmly tears off a better piece from her own stash and places it in your palm, not breaking eye contact with Mari the whole time. It’s the kind of silent threat only Shauna can pull off, no yelling, no theatrics, just that look in her eye that makes you feel like backing down is your best chance at survival.

You don’t say anything. You chew and swallow and try not to smile.

A few hours later you’re all out collecting firewood for camp when Tai calls your name from across the clearing. “Hey! Can you come help me drag this log out of the way?”

You take a step in her direction, just one, but Shauna’s suddenly beside you, eyebrows furrowed and voice low.

“She’s busy.”

Tai stops mid-lift. “What, you speak for her now?”

“No.” Shauna steps in front of you, chin raised. “She’s mine and I said she’s busy.”

It’s loud enough that the rest of the girls nearby go quiet. You freeze behind her, heart hammering. It doesn’t feel like she even thought it through, it just came out. Like she couldn’t stop herself.

Van laughs, not even trying to hide her grin. “Okay, damn, possessive much?”

“Shut up,” Shauna mutters, but there’s no real venom in it. She’s already looking at you again.

You should be embarrassed. You should say something. You should tell her she doesn’t get to claim you like that in front of everyone like you’re some object, but you don’t. Because it doesn’t feel like possession. It feels like protection. Like she’s wrapped herself around you in all the ways the wilderness hasn’t.

⸻

That night, when you return to the hut, Shauna’s already waiting, knife tucked under her pillow, your shirt on again. She doesn’t say anything as you crawl in beside her, just lets you settle in before pulling the blanket up around your shoulders like it’s her job.

You speak first this time. “You told the whole camp I was yours.”

She doesn’t look at you. “You are.”

“And if I wasn’t okay with that?”

“I’d find a way to make you okay with it.”

You huff out a soft laugh. “Scary.”

“Not to you.”

And she’s right. Because when her fingers curl around your wrist in the dark, soft and possessive, you let them. You want them to.

[resinfood]

Stalin murals still in the Caucasus today

[zegalba]

The tombstone of Nadezhda Alliluyeva, Stalin's second wife, is surrounded by unbreakable glass to prevent vandalism.

[cid5]

At 4:31 AM, an unauthorized photo taken of Stalin inside of the Kremlin shows the very moment he was informed that Germany had began their invasion of the Soviet Union.

[milfstalin]

stalin's autism traits:

the listener. the noticer

nonverbal when stressed

happy stimming as a child

perceived as cold/emotionless/rude

scares trotsky by using the wrong facial expression

likes to draw wolves

likes to draw geometric figures

doesn't want new clothes

doesn't know what he's done wrong to be reprimanded

[revolutionary-marxism]

Q: You knew Stalin very closely. What was he like?

Kaganovich: "Iosif Vissarionovich was a very prudent man. Very. A man who saw very far. Today we should ask ourselves: could we really have fought fascism if we had remained a non-industrialized, non-collectivized country? Could it have, our archaic agricultural village, feed the army and the cities? Who would have the courage to answer yes to this question? We should ask ourselves: why did Tsarism die? Because it had nothing to feed the army with. It had no clothes to dress it. It was a naked, barefoot, and hungry army, that of the Tsar, and it had nothing to shoot. We, on the other hand, in the fight against Nazism, after the retreats we began to increase, increase, increase our military power, and we sent tens of thousands of artillery pieces to the front. When we attacked Berlin, it was an attack never seen before in intensity and power. Where did we get all those tanks and planes? Without Stalin's policy we would never have gotten anywhere, we would all have died. What would have become of the USSR, if we had not made in ten years the progress that normally takes fifty or sixty years? Fascism does not wait, it would not have waited. Our country would have been destroyed. And all these shitty patriots today don't want to understand it, just as many communists don't understand it anymore. We should have taken Bukharin's path, they say, Kondriatev's path... Well, what would have happened if we had followed their path? We would have been crushed, I am deeply convinced of that. We would have been crushed for five hundred years, it would have been much worse than the Tartar yoke. That's what Russia would have ended up like. We gained two years with the Ribbentrop-Molotov pact, two years, from '39 to '41, crucial for the development of industry, for the strengthening of transport. But now it's easier to blame Stalin and his era for everything."

Q: Have you never had second thoughts about the arrests of that era, about the violence and the victims of the campaign to collectivize the countryside?

Kaganovich: first point to remember is that collectivization was the continuation of a Leninist line. Were there excesses? Yes. But where and when aren't there? There always are. When you fight a war, it is difficult to know in advance how many bullets you will fire. The enemy occupies one of our cities, we must retake it. But inside the city there are our people, innocents who could be killed in the attack. The army will still shout: to the assault, because that is how it must be, in all types of war. Yes, the result is that even the innocent suffer. There were innocent victims in the collectivization of the land. But there were also rich, influential peasants, linked to the church, who disturbed, obstructed. What was to be done? And in industry there was sabotage. Today many historians deny it, but it was true. Sabotage existed, and, I will say more, it still exists today. Perhaps I have the mentality of an old, overly suspicious fighter: but what are the unshipped goods, the extortion, the development of this mafia that is so much talked about, and of the black market, what are they if not a colossal sabotage against socialism? We should intervene harshly, and explain to the people what is happening, why they are made to suffer in this way. We should open a great debate."

Lazar Kaganovich's response to criticism of Stalin's domestic industrial and agricultural policy in preparation for the Nazi invasion of the USSR

From the archives of La epubblica, interview conducted in 1990 via written questions and answers; KAGANOVICH SPEAKS 'WE ARE NOT MONSTERS'

[commiearabgirll]

[phobic-human]

"It is difficult for me to imagine what "personal liberty" is enjoyed by an unemployed person, who goes about hungry, and cannot find employment .Real liberty can exist only where exploitation has been abolished, where there is no oppression of some by others, where there is no unemployment and poverty, where a man is not haunted by the fear of being tomorrow deprived of work, of home and of bread. Only in such a society is real, and not paper, personal and every other liberty possible."

- J.V. Stalin