#western proof press

[uwmspeccoll]

It's Fine Press Friday!

For today’s Fine Press Friday post, our subject is Bound for the Goldfields, published by the Australia-based Wayzgoose Press in 1990 in an edition of 55 copies, another gift from the estate of book artist and collector Dennis Bayuzick. The original story was written by Charles Dickens for his weekly journal Household Words in June 1855 and the Wayzgoose edition was designed and illustrated with linocuts and wood engravings by Wayzgoose founder Mike Hudson (1939-2021). Ours is a review copy, meaning that this specific book was originally sent out to someone to be reviewed for publication before it was actually distributed.

According to the title page, the story told in this book is a “true account of a journey from Melbourne to Castlemaine by a carrier of supplies to the goldfields.” A journey like this was long and harrowing, as described in the book’s text, which is printed vertically as part of the grassy landscape, and the wood/linocuts provide an excellent visualization of where the traveler physically is within the story being told. Readers will see many trees as the subject walks through forests, sees the night sky, and even the destination of the traveler as he arrives: the tents of those working in the gold fields.

This book was hand-set by Hudson's long-time partner and Wayzgoose Press co-founder Jadwiga Jarvis (1947-2021) in 14pt Monotype Baskerville and was printed on a Western Proof Press using Mohawk Letterpress Paper. Mike Hudson Bound the edition, 46 copies of which were in printed hessian fabric with leather thongs, as shown here.

View other books from the collection of Dennis Bayuzick.

View more Fine Press Friday Posts.

-- Sarah S., Special Collections Graduate Intern

[arabian-batboy]

It's insane that Joe Biden can say that "I have no notion if Palestinians are telling the truth" in a press-conference when asked about the death toll in Gaza to the point where The Ministry of Health of Gaza had to publish a list with the names and ID number of 7000+ Palestinians, including 3000 children, killed by Israeli bombs as a proof that people are in fact dying (as if its not logical to know that dropping 6000 bombs in one week on the world's most-densely populated area that has 0 shelters would obviously results in mass civilians death)

Yet, one random racist person on twitter can lie and claim that Palestinians have beheaded 40 Israeli babies with zero proof and not only did all western media ran with that story like its a real fact (while ignoring all the 3000 murdered Palestinian children), but Genocide Joe straight-up lied in another press-conference by saying that he saw "confirmed pictures" of those beheaded Israeli babies with his own eyes, which was immediately followed by a White House spokesperson who walked-back on that statement and clarify that Joe Biden has, in fact, NOT seen any pictures or reports of beheaded babies.

What kind of world do we live in where a fake debunked story of 40 kids from a certain ethnicity/religion can receive more sympathy and mass condemnation from world's leaders and politicians than actual confirmed reports of 3000 dead children from another ethnicity/religion?

[imagine-shenanigans]

sighs dramatically.

Okay but the ghost distribution system as we call it is hysterical but can we tlak about how None Of The 141 are built to date.

Like, sure, Gaz is great at flirting, and he's charming, but DATES? He's the type who asks you on a date because he thinks youre pretty/handsome/adorable/etc but by the time the two of you actually go on a date he's ready figured out like. the whole rest of your lives together. He's already imagined up 20 different scenarios of different dates, stalked your front-facing social media and found your secret or hidden accounts that theoretically don't link back to you. Sure, he's scrounged through your discord servers and your private messages and texts and a thousand other things while he was bored on leave. He knows enough to know that he's happy with what comes next. All dates are simply... ritual at this point? Something obligational, other than the fact he gets to spend time with you.

You're not going anywhere, he's just the least heavy handed of them, the one who'll let you think its your choice to keep him around until he's got his ring officially on your finger. Life won't go according to plan but he's prepared for that too. In his head, you're already married anyway, he's just working his way up to that part. He'll manufacture any scenario to keep you with him, because he wants you to be. And he'll make sure you want to be too.

Soap on the other hand is WAY less tactful about it. He's charming, and he'll take you on dates, sure, but the moment he spots you it's incredibly easy to get obsessed. He immediately drops an arm around you, purring in your ear and talking to you. Doesn't ask you on a date so much as demands it, puts his number in your phone and presses a kiss to your temple, his fingertips squeezing your chin before you leave. God forbid you let him into your home - he'll never leave if you do. Johnny's SUCH a physical guy that while, yes, personality matters, it seals the deal for him the moment he's got his tongue down your throat and his fingers in your pants. Something about the way you settle in against him makes him feel like he's home, and you will never get rid of him.

He's willing to take you on dates if you need more proof, but he won't even pretend like he doesnt already have a copy of your key. Like he's not telling the guys about the bonnie little thing he's going home to - he slips into your apartment/house/etc and into your bed without changing, barely finding time to slip his boots off. Presses one hand to your mouth and just... holds you. He'll fuck you within an inch of your life later when you're less panicked, sure, but he just wants to press his nose to your neck and breathe you in. If his hips rut against your ass, ignore it for now. (Haha... unless? No? okay in a minute then)

Price is just as manipulative as Gaz can be, just as charming as Soap and Gaz too. But he just... doesn't care, just like Simon. There's a reason so many people have Price with like... mail order bride or a "one day you look up and hes your husband" scenario and thats because he's good at what he does. And by that I mean being a husband and pumping you full of kids whether or not its physically possible. (Btw check out Ceil's mail order bride western au its good shit, or Bo's Kingpin Price drabbles, makes me lose it every time.)

He sees you walking about and the MOMENT you do anything remotely domestic - pick up a neice/nephew/babysitting kid/etc and put em on your hip? Rock hard. play peekaboo with a baby across from you at a cafe? pick up after yourself just to be polite to the waitress? he's already stalking you on multiple platforms theres no goddamn way youre getting away from him. He'll figure out where you go in your free time and insert himself there as naturally as possible. He's not particularly hiding what he's doing either - he likes to test you, to see if you notice things missing or moved. If you do, he'll be a little more cautious, use it as reason to drive you into hsi arms. If you don't he jsut views it as all the more reason to take you away - poor thing, you just can't help yourself can you? You're lucky nobody else has got their claws around you, hm?

[theriverbeyond]

how do we know in the books that john is indigenous? can you say more about how his indigeneity is important to his story?

hello! so there is a word of god post on race (doesn't mention John but mentions that Gideon is "mixed Maori"), BUT I frankly don't think word of god statements are worth any weight without actual in-text support (see: the "dumbledore is gay" situation). SO!

Specific evidence that John Gaius is Maori, as revealed in Nona the Ninth:

When he is listing his education, John mentions having gone to Dilworth School (John 20:8). Dilworth is an all boys boarding school in Auckland and accepts students based on financial need instead of academic or sporting achievements. Demographics appear to be about 70% low income Maori boys, indicating that it is highly likely that John is Maori

John reports that P- said he looked like a "Maori-TV pink panther" (John 15:23) when his eyes turned gold. Maori TV is a TV station that is focused primarily on Maori culture & language revitalization, with presumably all or mostly Maori hosts, and tbh I don't see why P- would say this unless John was himself Maori

John uses a te reo Māori phrase ("kia kaha, kia māia") (John 5:20) when he is saying goodbye to the corpses in the cryo lab before the power is shut off. Though it is possible he said this as a non-Maori kiwi, but in combination with the previous two points of evidence I think this all very strongly points to him being Maori

He also renames his daughter Kiriona Gaia, "Kiriona" being just literally the name "Gideon" in te reo Māori

TLT is not a series that hands you anything on a silver platter but to ME this is all pretty solid proof

Why is this relevant to The Locked Tomb?

In Nona the Ninth, we learn that before he completed apotheosis and ate the solar system, John was basically trying to save the earth from capitalism-caused climate change. Climate justice and the rights of indigenous people over their own land are deeply tied together, in the same way that climate catastrophe and capitalism/ imperialism/ colonialism are linked. disclaimer that this is NOT my area of study and others have definitely said it better; this is just the basic gist as I understand it, but on quick search I found some sources here and here if you want to do some reading.

TLT is not a series that hands you anything on a silver platter, but i don't think it is a stretch to see John as an indigenous man trying to save the earth and getting ignored and shut down at every turn by primarily western colonial powers (PanEuro, the USA) who declare him a terrorist and then as a reader thematically connecting that to the experience of indigenous climate activists IRL

there are absolutely TLT meta posts that have discussed this before me; tumblr search is nonfunctional and I have been looking for an hour and a half and cannot find anything specific even though i KNOW i reblogged multiple posts about this in the first few weeks following NTN's release. sad & I am sorry

I think that by the time the books take place, John is 10k years removed from the cultural context he grew up in, with the Nine Houses having become a genocidal colonial power in their own right (with more parallels to be made between John's forever war for the resources of literal life energy and like, oil wars), but I also think that John Gaius is a fictional character who can represent and symbolize multiple different things in service of telling a story. (not to mention the potential thematic parallels being made to how oppressed people sometimes are pressed into replicating the power dynamics of their oppressors and continuing the cycle--now that is a tumblr post i KNOW i read last year and definitely cannot find right now, once again sad & I am sorry)

How Radical Was John Gaius, Really is a forum thread that was locked by the moderators after 234534645674564 pages of heated debate

[minhosimthings]

Dances Avec Les Etoiles ft Heeseung, Part 2

Synopsis: God how boring is love? For Lee Heeseung, it was perhaps the most boring thing in this rotten world. But for his parents, it meant buisness. And buisness meant getting Heeseung married off to a princess from another kingdom. And when the princess shares a peculiar interest, Heeseung starts to believe in Cupid again.

Pairings: Prince!Heeseung × Princess!fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, Dom!Heeseung, sub!reader, p in v sex, sex on the floor eyyy, daddy kink, overstimulation, sorta exhibitionism,Ko kofingering, orgasm control, rough sex, boob sucking because obvi, unprotected sex (not for you), closed proximity, fluffy at the end, neck kisses because yes, IMPLIED WEDDING SCENE OOH (yeah I'll write that)

A/N: Thank you for waiting patiently for this shit, I know I've taken a long time to complete it but thank you for all the support on the first part! @candewlsy Miss mizu, your daddy papi has arrived and he's waiting 😉

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

Part 1 || Part 2 || The wedding

The only interesting thing about the western wing of Tarnow's palace was the spectacle that danced in its halls from dusk till dawn.

Nothing else had been much if interest there, even now, as you stood on cold marble, clutching your dress tightly with your fingers, your eyes set on Heeseung's figure, seemingly admiring himself in the grand mirror.

"I must admit." Heeseung spoke up, causing you to jerk your head up, "It took me a while to figure out who kept watching me at night. You did a good job at hiding, princess."

His feet led him towards you, his figure towering over you as he bent down to press a wet kiss to your neck.

"But I'm better." His voice sent vibrations throughout your body. It was truly a miracle that no one has yet realised that the bride and groom were missing from the party. Heeseung had been right about Tarnow having the finest alcohol, a sip could have gotten anyone drunk.

Pressing rough kisses to your exposed collarbone (thanks to the off shoulder dress), Heeseung's arms automatically ran to your waist, caressing himself to your body.

"No one deserves this pussy you got that?" His words came through again. Your heart somersaulted in your chest at them. You had often forgotten that he was to be your future husband.

His hands grabbed your waist, getting a firm grip before pulling your body down, flat on the cold ground, you winced at the feeling. He broke away from the kiss, your foreheads touching as his hands fumble with the zipper of your dress. His hands provided a sort of warm escape from the cold feeling of the floor.

He pulled the dress down with haste, you always loved this impatient side of him, leaving you half naked in your panties and bra.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you, now,” he demanded, his grip on your chin tightening as he forced you to look up at him, helpless.

You shook under his touch, completely powerless. “I- I want you to fuck me, Hee."

He lowered his head, resting his lips against your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine and straight to your heat. “Say it louder, so everyone in the kingdom knows how much of a dumb little slut you are for me. Say it.”

"I-I need you to fuck me." You proclaimed, hoping fervently that the room was sound proof.

"Good girl, such a good girl for me aren't you?" The smirk you so admired came back onto his face. His hands wrapped around the waistband of your panties, the sensation of him taking it off, making you pathetically wet.

Slowly he moved his mouth over to your left breast swirling his tongue around my nipple. Lightly sucking on your nipple before gently grazing his teeth over the sensitive nerves.

He took his time once again, admiring your frame. “You look so gorgeous, let me see what’s between your legs better?”

You nodded and spread your knees apart more, fully exposing your heat to him. He hovered over you, staring down at your pussy, glistening with juices. The feeling of his fingers near your cunt got you moaning.

"Heeseung-"

Your words were cut off by the feeling of his two fingers pressing at your wet hole. Your pussy practically gushed around him as he entered you, only pushing halfway. His teasing fingers grazed your insides, curling up inside of you like a warm pillow.

“You can keep making those pretty sounds, princess." A loud moan erupted out of you at the sensation of Heeseung's finger flicking at your g-spot.

You obeyed, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the pleasure he were creating for you. His curling fingers, his fierce gaze on you…uyou was overcome with intense sensation.

"D-daddy fuck-fuck!" You all but screamed, making Heeseung look at you with a raised brow.

"Daddy?" He chuckled, "Call me that again, princess."

"Daddy?" You whimpered, feeling his fingers pressing hard against your walls. His laugh was a melody of heaven to you.

You press your legs together and Heeseung more into your cunt; his skills are way better than you thought, and you feel something in your stomach growing, a feeling that is way more pleasurable than ever before. Heeseung feels you clenching around his fingers, and he lets go of you.

"Daddy!" You cried, tears escaping from your eyes at the feeling of being left empty.

"Use your words, princess." Heeseung brushed a hair strand behind your ear, "Say what you want daddy to do to you."

"Fuck me." You say, decisively. "Nicer." Heeseung said again.

"Fuck me daddy....please?"

His arm slides over your waist, hold you to him as he pushes his bulge against you. You tilt your head back and his lips meet your neck, sucking a spot which earns an even louder moan from you.

“Fuck..” you breathe out, “daddy..”

Your hands grab at his hair, lifting your hips up as they make contact with his throbbing, leaking tip. You wince as he thrusts forward, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"Patience, princess. Gonna give it to you good, yeah?" he promises and pulls his trousers and boxers down. He's throbbing as he grips himself, his rings making contact with his hard length, making him groan.

He lifted you again with ease, grinding his hips against yours before lining himself up with you, with a swift thrust he entered your tight cunt, throwing his head back with a soft groan.

Your mouth dropped open, pleasure and pain mixing together, your tight pussy opening up to take him in.

No time was wasted, Heeseung'’s thrusts already picking up a steady rhythm. His knees were pressed into the ground as he towered over your frame, and your own knees were slowly pushed towards your chest. You were hyperaware of the length of his cock at this angle, thighs pressed together with the soles of your feet on his stomach. Every pull pulled a shudder from you, and you groaned his name again.

“So beautiful” Heeseung kissed your cheek before you gaped down to both watch him pull out and push back. Heeseung’s dick was rubbing against your insides, digging deeper hitting your g-spot.

“Daddy please right there— Fuck right there daddy” Your skin slapped together as he thrusted into you harder making your body quiver with all the stimulation.

"Such a demanding little slut for daddy~"

Those words stir something inside you, making you tighten even more. He smirks at your reaction and takes the hint to keep going.

"You like that, don't you? You like to be degraded and being treated like a slut in bed, don't you?" You nod, unable to form a proper answer. He pulls out completely, only to thrust back in with full force.

Attempting to speak again, the only thing that fell from your mouth was a needy whimper as Heeseung curled up deliciously against you. You didn’t understand how it was possible to feel so good from something so simple; moaning as he hit spots you never even knew existed, the sweet sound of your wet pussy filling the room.

“I wanna hear you say it.” Pressing up to your ear, he let out a breathy sigh from the feeling of you on his fingers. You shook your head, jaw slack from pleasure “I can’t–” 

His hips are relentlessly pumping in you. Your body feels like it's on fire with every touch and every breath, something you've never felt before.

“Please, daddy” You begged, eyes darting away from yourself, seeing the way you moaned so with such desperation; the needy sound of your voice leaving him craving more.

“You want me to keep going?” A weak nod was the only thing you could muster, “Then I gotta hear you.” That tone filled your head with a haze of desire, struggling to find the words, tipping your head back to avoid the sight in front of you. 

You fell into that dizzy trance as Heeseung's grip tightened ever so slightly as he felt you trying to look away, a breathy moan falling from you yet again. One of his hands grasped the thick of your thigh, spreading your legs further as his sloppy thrusts hit every part of you, a whiny gasp slipping from him as he tipped his head back in ecstasy. 

You gripped his shoulders, fucked dumb on him, and unable to process anything other than those pretty sounds he tried to hide. Heeseung filled you up, hitting spots only he could reach as you squirmed underneath him, pressure building up inside of you. The way you squeezed around him had stars clouding his head, whimpering as your hips stuttered.

"D-Daddy! I do- I don't know if i can-" You couldn't even form a sentence. "Mmgh" You let out several loud moans while proceeding to grip the ground with your sweaty palms.

"Not until I say so... you look so pretty begging." Heeseung then put it in once more but this time slower. He took the initiative to lean forward to grab your hair and pull it up which caused you to let out a shriek.

"Daddy please..." You whimper, feeling your stomach turn on yourself.

"Going dumb for daddy's cock, princess?" Heeseung's thrusts because the roughest they could have ever been, "Cum for me princess, that's a good girl."

Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt and pitiful whines left you as you cum, sounds that Heeseung always loved, he moaned every time he hears them, his cock jerking inside you. Your cunt gripped him tight, and he choked, growled sounds leaving him as he cums with you.

His cock is twitching, emptying his cum into you, “Love how well you take me –mmph– how good you look full of my cum –nngh–” He pushes his cock into you completely, keeping you full of him, his hips grind into you to ride out your highs.

You can only croak out, "Oh, I'm cum-m-" before your body falls weak, goes limp, you convulse around his length and coat him nicely with your orgasm.

"S-So good, daddy-" You drag out as you cream all over him, and he drags out your high continuing to pound into you like nobody's business-- as well as seeming to forget your current state.

"So pretty for me princess." Heeseung chuckles, feeling his orgasm wash over him, he's never had a better high of his life, "Such a good girl for daddy."

Heeseung stayed above you for a bit, as he pulled out, making a whimper leave your mouth. The cold stone ground, now seemed colder, perhaps Heeseung's heat had escaped painfully from you as he pulled away and lay on the ground next to you, his chest rising and drooping from moment to moment.

"Should we or should we not get back to the ball?" You finally broke the silence with your question, which came to you, only after you calmed down from your orgasm, which, you had to admit was a hard thing to do, after Heeseung's hips had murdered yours.

"Depends." Heeseung turned his body to face you, "Would you like to go back?"

Thinking about the question for a while, you shrugged your shoulders, and make your way to slowly get up, Heeseung smirking proudly at how your legs shook.

"Have I made you that much of a mess?" Heeseung asked, also getting up, and putting on his trousers in a jiffy. "One time, Heeseung." You glared at him, while pulling your dress back on, "just this one time."

"Oh we're back to Heeseung now are we?" What happened to daddy?" Heeseung chuckled, checking his hair in the mirror, "If you want help zipping that up, why don't you just ask?"

The zipper of your dress had been stuck for a while now, and you really didn't want to ask Heeseung for help ,but unfortunately you were forced to, as your hand couldn't reach the zipper anymore.

"Fine!" You gave an exasperated sigh, walking over to Heeseung, while holding your dress up with your hands, "Do it quick."

"Not even a please." Heeseung sighed dramatically, holding his hand out to the zipper, the warm touch of his hand making you sink into his touch. His clutch was gentle, feather light touches tracing your back, painfully trying to control the zipper.

"And it's stuck." Heeseung let go, falling back to lean against the mirror, as you clutched your dress desperately upto your chest. "Are you sure?" You frantically asked, how could you go back to your room without clothes?

"Yep it's definitely stuck, but that's on the seamstress for making a zipper out of...what is that? Gold?" Heeseung whistled carelessly.

"How am I supposed to get back to mg room now?" You looked at Heeseung with what had probably been an extremely serious look, since Heeseung's brows furrowed. He let out a confusing sigh after some time.

"Alright can you wear my jacket over yourself?" Heeseung handed you the fine white piece of clothing, "We can sneak out, if you can manage to drag that dress with you."

At the moment, there seemed to be no other option, so you obliged, draping his jacket over yourself, protecting your chest. The ball would still have been going on, considering the faint sound of music coming from the ballroom. Now or never was the only choice.

"Quiet!" Heeseung whispered to you. Your backs were pressed against the wall and you were close, just a mere corridor away from your room and his, the only problem?

The big open space, which led to the ballroom, standing in the middle of you and your goal.

"Alright, let's go over the plan." Heeseung balled his fists together. "There's a plan?" You quizzed him, finding it a bit amusing. "Of course there's a plan, no stop interrupting me." Heeseung brushed you off, "Alright hold my hand, and we'll run across, don't look back."

"Sounds like a battle plan." You giggled quietly as his comedic timing.

"Come on!" Heeseung nudged you forward, holding your hand in his,

"Alright 3,2, go!"

The way your feet carried you across the floor made your blood rush faster and your ears ring, it was euphoria, just running across the room, with Heeseung's hand tightly holding yours. And you would have enjoyed that for a lot more time if not for the other pair of footsteps and raucous, high pitched laughter alerting you.

Someone was coming.

"Fuck." You heard Heeseung whisper, before your back was pressed against a wall, and Heeseung's free hand was pressed against your mouth.

As awkward as the position was, Heeseung's eyes staring into yours, as he quietened you, you couldn't bring yourself to budge free from his grasp, even after the footsteps and laughter had went away.

God did you want to swim in those eyes.

"Did you enjoy the party my dear?" The Queen had asked you at breakfast the following day.

"It was wonderful, your majesty." You had answered, trying not to catch Heeseung's eye, lest you burst out laughing, which was an impossibility considering how Heeseung's ears were turning red when his mother mentioned 'how you and my dear son were absent at the second half of the ball'.

Cute, was your first thought. Confused, was your second thought. Heeseung was the kind of man to brag about his sexual adventures, but him shying away from it? The idea that you made him shy sheltered pride into your heart.

"So do I actually make you nervous?" You asked him, laying on your stomach on his bed, the assignments had been finished early and you hadn't even wanted sex after what Heeseung did to your legs the night before.

"If I say yes, you'll become too prideful, so I'm going to go ahead and say no." Heeseung poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue whilst carefully arranging his bookshelf.

"Why are you arranging your bookshelf again?"

"For the last time, Jay is going to be coming over and I don't want to hear him scold me again."

"But I want attention." You jut out your bottom lip to form a pout, falling on your back onto the bed again, "Pay attention to me."

"And why should I?" Heeseung raised his brow at you, plopping down on the bed and leaning over to face you.

"Because....we are husband and wife?" You said with uncertainty and a giggle, which made Heeseung crack a smile too. "Husband and wife to-be, princess." Heeseung corrected you, scrunching his nose at you.

"Alright then tell me one thing." You looked into Heeseung's eyes again, preparing to ask him the thing that had been going on in your brain ever since that first night of sneaking out, "Why don't you ever dance in front of everyone like you do in the western wing?"

"It's not exactly customary for a prince to dance in Tarnow." Heeseung sighed, you could tell this was a sensitive subject for him and now, you regretted asking him the question, "It is always frowned upon for men to dance here, only the women ever participate. But I have always loved it ever since I was a child. So, I had to do it in secret and the western wing was abandoned anyway so it was the perfect place. But I hadn't expected you to find out about it." He added with a cheeky smile, laying his head onto his pillow and allowing you to cuddle upto him.

"Well then, when we're king and queen, the first thing I'll do is tell every man in the kingdom to bust out their tap shoes because we're having another hall where the King shall be dancing!"

Your words flew into Heeseung's ears like a harpsical melody. God why were you so perfect? A person who understands, a person who saw him for what he wanted to be instead of what he is, a person who he wanted to love.

"And I'd also-"

Your words were cut off by Heeseung's soft plush lips pressing onto yours. You had kissed him before of course, whilst he was destroying your ability to walk, but this kiss felt different, it felt.....like love. The dance of your lips against his was more prettier than the ones you had watched him do, the mischevious poke of his tongue which made you let out a silent whimper, and the young love blossoming like daffodils all around you.

Heeseung pulled away from the kiss first, his eyes still shut and then open as he looks at you with a cunning smile. “You taste like my new addiction.”

His pathetically lovesick line got you laughing and holding your stomach. 'My new addiction' who even used that term.

"Y/N stop laughing!" Heeseung protested, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him and pressing small kisses to your neck, which made it tickle, making you laugh even harder. But Heeseung would have done anything to make laughter erupt out of your mouth, as if it was another sinful pleasure.

“You’re the only one I’m gonna wanna kiss from now on.” Heeseung proudly declared, as if it was the only thing on his itinerary.

"I'm the only one you are allowed to kiss, dumbass." You gave a finger flick to his forehead.

"I do love you, you know that right?" Heeseung asked, his fawn eyes looking at you with uncertainty now, "Like actually roses and chocolates and all that crap type of love?"

"I'm allergic to chocolate, but I'll take it." You giggled, as Heeseung happily nudged his nose into your neck, as the two you remained stuck to each other for eternity, dancing away the rest of life in peace.

Wedding scene to be released soon!

Taglist: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @kvmariii @mwahvvis @hottiewifeyyyy @sacrificeatmeup @perfectnighttt @yawnzzhoon @yunabi436

[tomorrowusa]

Trump doesn't want voters to be reminded of his disastrous responses to hurricanes. Trumpnesia may have caused many to forget how he threw paper towels at Puerto Rican victims of Hurricane Maria or how he used a Sharpie marker to try to change the path of Hurricane Dorian.

So to muddy the waters, Trump has been spewing a firehose of falsehoods about Hurricane Helene.

A few of Trump's lies fact checked.

Monday: Trump falsely claims Biden hasn’t answered calls from Georgia’s governor It was immediately clear that Trump’s claim was false. Kemp, a Republican, told reporters earlier Monday that he had spoken with Biden the day prior — and that it was Kemp who had initially missed a call from Biden, not the other way around.

Trump himself has a record of problematic phone calls with Georgia state officials.

Monday: Trump cites baseless ‘reports’ about anti-Republican bias in the North Carolina response Republican South Carolina Gov. Henry McMaster said at a Tuesday press conference that federal assistance had “been superb,” noting that Biden and Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg had both called and told him to let them know whatever the state needed. McMaster also said FEMA Administrator Deanne Criswell had called.

The lies only get bigger...

Thursday: Trump falsely claims Harris spent ‘all her FEMA money’ on housing illegal migrants First, there is zero basis for Trump’s suggestion that the Biden administration is running some sort of scheme to get undocumented immigrants to vote illegally in the 2024 election. Voting by noncitizens is a felony. Second, there is zero basis for claiming that FEMA disaster assistance money was stolen — by anyone, let alone Harris personally — for the housing of migrants.

^^^ That one ranks with the lies Trump and Vance are spreading about Haitian Americans eating pets in Ohio.

Friday: Trump falsely claims $1 billion was ‘stolen’ from FEMA for migrants and has gone ‘missing’ Though Trump’s Thursday claim about FEMA money and migrants had already been debunked by Friday, Trump repeated the claim to reporters at least twice on Friday — and then said it again at a Friday night town hall event in North Carolina.

It's never necessary for Trump to have proof of something. He just makes shit up to further his orgies of disinformation.

Saturday: Trump falsely claims the federal government is only giving $750 to people who lost their homes Trump’s claim is wrong. As FEMA explained earlier in the week on social media andon a web page it created to combat misinformation about the response, $750 is merely the immediate, upfront aid survivors can get to cover basic, pressing needs like food, water, baby formula and emergency supplies. Survivors are also eligible to apply for additional forms of assistance, such as to pay for temporary housing and home repairs, that can be worth thousands of dollars; the current maximum amount for home repair assistance, for example, is $42,500.

For people poor at math, the difference between $750 and $42,500 is $41,750. And I don't think the $750 is deducted from the eventual $42,500.

Saturday: Trump falsely claims there are ‘no helicopters, no rescue’ in North Carolina  This claim about North Carolina is false. There have been numerous government and private helicopters and other aircraft involved in rescue and aid efforts in North Carolina, though some residents died before they could be rescued and a significant number of residents have remained missing or stranded for days. The North Carolina National Guard announced Thursday that its own air assets had “completed 146 flight missions, resulting in the rescue of 538 people and 150 pets.”  The Washington Post reported Friday [ ... ] CNN reported Saturday that air traffic over western North Carolina had increased 300% over the past seven days due to hurricane relief efforts, according to Becca Gallas, director of North Carolina’s Division of Aviation. The state said in an official update Saturday: “A total of 53 search and rescue teams from North Carolina and beyond, consisting of more than 1,600 personnel have conducted search and rescue operations during this event. Search and rescue teams have interacted with over 5,400 people, including assists, evacuations and rescues.”

If Trump says something, it is almost certainly untrue. He is hoping to be heard by low information voters who get news from social media and other unreliable sources. It is up to you to step up your interaction with any such people who you may know personally. Send them articles and vids from reputable sources. Elections are won or lost one voter at a time.

A reminder you can give people: Trump made over 30,000 lies during his four years in office. He is not a reliable source of information.

Washington Post counts 30,573 false or misleading claims in four years by Trump

Would you buy a used car or a second-hand presidency from Weird Donald? 🤨

[marmie-noir]

Cabaret, Confessions, and Curses

TW: Smut, swearing, Mitch Keller being dressed up and looking good. Per usual no proof read so forgive any silly goofy things pls!

It felt like yesterday when we finally had claimed our peace. There had been a lot of work to do after but it had been so worth it. Every project came with it’s own reward, every long day ending with the knowledge that we were working towards our future. Which, most importantly, was about us being together. 

Since the shootout Mitch had been hesitant to let me out of his sight for a bit. I couldn’t tease him, I’d been the same. We’d been glued at the hip for weeks, the two of us doing everything together from meeting with contractors to approving interior design choices, to filling out paperwork to file with the state to make everything look crystal clean as far as the government was concerned. 

We had our fun too, weekends away and time away from the bar. Pops had harassed us enough to get out of the house and go ‘be young people’, the two of us going to a music festival a few towns over and getting drunk on cheap wine, dancing under the stars with a field full of other people. It was all like a dream, and it had all come down to this. 

I looked at myself in the mirror once more, fingers fiddling with the necklace I had picked. I heard Ann huff next to me and I glanced over with a little frown. “You look perfect, Sunny! C’mon!” She said, grinning at me. 

“You didn’t see Mitch before he left.” I muttered, reaching down to smooth the skirt of my dress. I’d picked something pretty, the cut of the front lower than I normally preferred, the back of it too, but when I’d seen it in the shop last time Ann dragged me out shopping I had wanted it. It was a pretty shade of green that looked nice against my skin and with my hair, making my eyes pop too after Ann had done her voodoo girl magic to make them seem more vibrant. One day I’d have her teach me, but for now I enjoyed having her handle it, the bonding experience something I’d never had with someone else. 

Mitch had left hours ago, getting all dressed up himself in a Western style shirt and a nice pair of jeans, even had a new pair of boots he’d prepped and waxed before going out. I’d practically drooled when he’d come to give me a kiss goodbye. “Come in a few hours, spend some time with Ann, get all dolled up. I’ll handle all the bullshit that always goes wrong on the first night of opening, darlin’. You just enjoy yourself. You’ve earned it.” He’d said, not letting me drag him to the bedroom for a quickie with how good he’d looked. It’d been half touched, half frustrated. 

“And he’s gonna sing tonight.” I said, giving a little spin in my mirror, looking at the way the skirts shifted as I moved. I looked good, really good. “Ann, it’s disgustingly unfair how hot he is.” “Girl, are we looking in the same mirror?” Ann asked, stopping next to me, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “You are looking so fine right now, don’t even. C’mon, get your cute butt into gear, we gotta go see your man. And I wanna check out my new job.” As promised all the employees from Bred-2-Buck would still be employed. But Mitch had been very firm when he’d told everyone that tonight they wouldn’t not be working, they would be enjoying the new place. Even Charlie had accepted, and I was looking forward to seeing the old man show up in his Sunday best. 

Ann drove us to the bar and we didn’t have any issues finding parking, seeing as there was employee parking in a well lit part of the new parking lot, Mitch having that be part of the changes. Safety for his employees. We walked up, spotting Fred acting as bouncer at the front door. 

He perked up, grinning at the two of us. I leaned in, returning his hug and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling back to step in as Ann chatted him up. She liked to flirt with Fred, he got shy and stuttery around her in the sweetest way. 

It was beautiful. The lighting was a reddish tint and everything was new and spotless. Pale colored couches lined the walls, round tables filling up the middle with a spot left open before the new stage for a dance floor. The place was packed except for a few tables near the front and everyone was having a great time eating, drinking, and laughing. Spotting some more familiar faces my smile grew and I made my way towards the front spotting Bohdi and Grace, who I pulled into a hug. She looked stunning, wrapped in a pale bodycon dress, her smile sincere. Clint walked up with another round of drinks and I gave him a side hug too. 

“This is insane! It’s so full!” I said, grinning at them as I slid my hands down the back of my thighs as I sat, making sure my skirt didn’t get too wrinkled. Turning towards the stage I felt my body freeze in reaction, eyes widening as I made eye contact with Mitch. “God damn.” I whispered, causing Ann and Grace to laugh. 

He looked as good as I remembered from a few hours ago, except now he had a few of his top buttons undone. He hadn’t even worn a hat tonight, his hair combed back, a few strands falling across his forehead as he moved slightly while singing, rocking as he played the guitar and sang with that grin on his face. Now, I was no groupie, but a girl could only handle so much. Grace said something but I couldn’t hear her, just going “Mhm.” As I blinked up at Mitch. He smirked, shooting me a wink before scanning across the room. Always the boss it seemed. 

“Grace said Dwight was at the bar if you want to say hi.” Ann said, reaching over to give my thigh a squeeze, making me jump slightly. I blushed at being caught oogling Mitch so obviously. Refocusing on her I reached up to brush some of my hair from my face, giving her a little nod. “Yeah, I will in a minute.” 

The song wrapped up and I clapped with everyone else. Mitch straightened, adjusting the guitar strap as he wrapped his free hand around the mic stand with that same pearly smile. He looked so happy, he looked so good, so in his element. It made my heart ache with happiness a little bit. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, if I could have your attention please?” He said, the band winding down the song behind him as he looked into the crowd. I crossed my legs, intent on hearing what he had to say. 

“As many of ya’ll know, we just got our license.” He gestured to the back room which was now filled with card tables and slot machines. The gambling license had been a longer process than anticipated but it hadn’t been overly difficult thankfully. “And I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome you all to the future home of the Bred-2-Buck Cabaret and Casino!” I let out a cheer and clapped, everyone else joining in. It felt good to have our friends here, the people who had become near and dear to my heart filling the space. 

“Now, none of this would be possible without without the support of my partners, in particular Mr. Dwight Manfredi.” He said, gesturing towards the bar. I turned in my seat, spotting the familiar gray head of hair next to his daughter who I’d recently met. I cupped my hands around my mouth and let out a cheer before clapping. Dwight had grown on me slower than Mitch, but after what he did for us? He was alright in my books, closer to family than I’d like to admit. 

Dwight gave a little wave, looking pleased with himself and not a bit shy. “And I’d also like thank the one who got me through the long hours of paperwork and the frustrations of interior design,” He said, voice dropping low like it was some sort of horror. It garnered some laughter but he didn’t stop. “My rock, my girl, Sunny.” 

I smiled so wide my cheek hurt. I covered my lower face, blushing and shaking my head as Ann reached over to pat at my shoulder, Grace letting out a whooping cheer that had me batting at her with a laugh. Once the clapping and cheers died down he continued on, practically glowing. “Now, I’m going to be taking a short break from being the entertainment tonight to enjoy myself, but I’ll be back in no time. But please give a warm welcome to Malcom and the Bonefish.” He stepped aside as another man stepped forward, apparently part of the band he’d hired for opening night. People clapped once more as the music started up. Mitch handed off his guitar and stepped off the stage, one hand sliding through his hair as he said something to a worker before heading over towards me. I hopped up, all but throwing myself into his open arms. He let out a quiet laugh, giving me a good squeeze before pulling back to look me over. “And I thought you couldn’t get any prettier.” He said, taking my hand and giving me a little spin with that smile that had a heat burning in my lower stomach. I squeezed his hand back and pulled him towards the dance floor where a few other couples were swaying, wanting to get a dance in with him on one of the most important nights. “Hush, I just had to match how handsome you look.” I said, reaching up to lace my fingers together behind his neck. His hands found my hips, the two of us leaning in and swaying to the music. It wasn’t exactly a slow song so we didn’t move slow, but it wasn’t something we should be swinging around to. It was perfect like everything else had been today. “Mitch, it looks amazing.” I said, grinning up at him. He nodded, glancing up for a moment to take in the room before meeting my eyes once more. “Should. You picked everything out.” “Not everything.” I said with a laugh, making him grin a little wider. “You picked out some stuff too.” “Mhm, but the important stuff is all you, darlin’. Don’t forget that.” He said, hands moving to my lower back, pressing gently to ensure I was pressed up tightly against him. I went willingly, the music perfect. I let out a happy sigh, relaxing against his taller form. “Like I’d let you forget that.” I teased, fingers playing with a few strands of his hair at the base of his neck. Mitch leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before pulling back. I wanted more, and I had already crafted a plan to get what I wanted a few days ago when I’d seen that new desk get carted into his office. Sturdy, hardwood, looking like it should be in a lawyers office. “I’ve got a surprise for you if you can spare fifteen minutes.” “Fifteen minutes for my girl? Easy.” He said, pulling back to find my hand once more. “Lead the way, pretty girl.” The name brought butterflies to my stomach and I shot Ann a wink as I lead Mitch away. She knew my plan, I’d confessed it when we had been getting ready. I lead Mitch down the hallway towards his office, sneaking a glance back at him to catch his heated expression. Opening his office door I closed it behind us, letting go of his hand to walk over to the desk. I perched myself on top of the cool hardwood, leaning back to pop open the top drawer. I pulled the picture frame out, and then grabbed a bottle of expensive whiskey I’d bought with Dwight’s guidance. Setting the bottle down next to my thigh I held the frame out to Mitch with a grin, gesturing he take it. He did, stepping closer, flipping it over. Mitch was silent a few moments before he looked at me, surprising me by being slightly emotional. There was a sheen to his eyes I’d never seen before. “I’m gonna confess, darlin’. When you pulled me in here I thought I was going to be breaking in the new desk. Didn’t think you’d be getting me all misty eyed.” He said, giving me a softer smile and looking back at the picture. 

It was a picture I’d taken awhile ago, a few weeks after starting to work for Mitch. I had insisted Ann snap a picture of myself, Mitch, and Pops. Had claimed it was for me, admitted guilted them a bit. It had turned out great, the old interior of the bar obvious in the photo, my cheesy grin with Mitch laughing, and Pops cracking a half smile for the picture because Ann had asked sweetly.I had it sized up and put into a nice frame for him to put wherever he wanted it.  

“I got a few other shots of the bar I took before we- well, blew it up.” I said with a little shrug, reaching out to hook my fingers in his belt loops to pull him closer between my spread thighs. “Confession time for me as well, I was really hoping you’d fuck me on the new desk also. Think of it as a two parter.”

Mitch let out a genuine laugh, setting the photo down on the desk to instead grab my face. He tilted my chin up, leaning down to press his lips to mine, smiling still. I knew I was smiling too, arching up to kiss him back, the taste of the drink he must have had earlier a little burn against my tongue as it dipped between his lips.  

“Been thinkin’ about you all pretty on this desk since they brought it in.” Mitch breathed out against my lips as his hands moved to my thighs, sliding up under my dress as he leaned in closer to grind against me. He felt good, already half hard in his jeans, the cool metal of his belt buckle obvious through the thin material of my dress. “Oh, my too. I miss the old desk but this one will do.” I teased, nipping at his bottom lip as I reached for his buckle, needing him. I’d been wet since seeing him on stage, my body immediately reacting to seeing that smile for me as he sang. Mitch Keller was like a drug and I was addicted because no matter how much I touched and tasted him I always came back for more. 

Mitch made a noise that was all masculine amusement, his big hands giving the fat of my thighs a squeeze before dipping between them. The rings on his fingers were cool too and I whined, thighs spreading a bit more out of habit, undoing the jingling belt buckle and working on his pants next. As I undid his pants he hooked his fingers around my panties and pulled them down, dropping the red lace on the desk next to me. The thin scrap of fabric had him raising a brow, giving me a sly smile. “Well now, someone was planning this.” He said, one of his big hands pressing against my cunt, blunt fingertips finding how wet I was with a little groan in the back of this throat. “Really planning this.” 

“I did say it was a surprise.” I breathed out. With the help of his free hand he opened his pants, my hands greedily dipping in and pushing them down enough to free his now fully hard cock. “The bra matches, you can see it later.” “Fucking- you are going to be the end of me.” He said with a smile, hand wrapping around mine at the base of his cock, giving himself a slow pump that had me rocking my hips against his hand between my thighs. “I need you now.” I said, looking up at him. So fucking handsome, especially when his blue eyes went dark with want, the two of us wrapped up in one another. Inseparable on a base level that would terrify me if it was anyone else but strong, sturdy Mitch. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” He said, two fingers pushing into my slick pussy. I whined, clenching around him, head tipped back to look up at him. “Y’get so tight, baby.” “Won’t hurt me, want it.” I demanded as firmly as I could while suppressing a moan as he hooked his fingers just right, rubbing at the spot inside me his long frustratingly talented fingers always seemed to find. “Please, Mitch. Fuckin’ please.” He bit out a curse, his hand leaving me and having me feel empty once more. I leaned back on my elbows, arching my hips up so he could push my skirt to my waist, leaning in to grind his hard cock against where I wanted him more. He hit my clit, the friction making me take in a sharp inhale, nipples pebbling behind my sheer bra and showing through the thin dress. 

My legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer, needing him inside of me. There was an underlying desperation, a desire, the ache he created deep inside me only something he could soothe. “Please.” I whined once more as he pulled his hips back slightly to slot himself in place. Mitch leaned forward and captured my lips in a heated kiss as he sunk into me, pushing each thick inch into me slowly until his hips were pressed flush against mine. My thighs immediately tightened around his middle as I moaned into the kiss, lips parting under his as he fucked into me with slow, firm strokes, his tongue tasting between my lips at the same time. 

He was big and thick in the perfect way, and I was soaked for him already, each stroke easy. “So good for me.” He ground out, big hands moving to under my knees, using his hold to push my legs up towards my chest. It changed the angle, letting him slide in easier, each thrust pushing him deeper. It was so good my eyes nearly rolled back. 

“Fuck, I’m so lucky.” Mitch’s voice was rough, almost like how it sounded in the morning when I kissed him awake. I wanted to tell him I was the lucky one, I was the one who was winning, a little cock drunk and delusionally happy. But words had left me and I whined, nodding as he continued to thrust. He didn’t let up, setting a fast pace. 

“M’not gonna last.” I confessed, clenching around him when he bottomed out again, grinding so that his pelvis put the most delicious friction on my clit. “‘Specially if you do that.” 

“Me either.” He said, hands sliding up my calves to hook my ankles over his shoulders. He was so deep it was like he was fucking the breath out of my lungs but in the best possible way, my own arousal making the slap of skin on skin sinfully wet. With his hands now free he reached between us. But instead of going right for my clit like he normally did he pressed on my lower stomach lightly. It had me nearly choking on my own gasped breath, the force of his hand making sure that every stroke of his cock hit right where I needed, bullying my g-spot mercilessly. “Fuck-, Mitch.” I choked out, reaching out to grip the edge of the desk as well near the top of my head. His free hand found one of mine, lacing our fingers together, pinning my hand against the wood. His other, on my stomach, was of course long enough to use his thumb to flick at my clit as he fucked me harder and faster. He had me practically bent in half but I didn’t care, the position letting him sink in deeper and faster, pressing in so deep I saw stars. 

“Please please please.” I panted out with each clap of our hips, squeezing our interlaced hands, looking up into his pretty blue eyes. More hair had fallen in his face but it looked good. He gave a little nod, adding a little roll to his hips to grind where I needed him. “C’mon baby, give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel, hm? Wanna see you come undone on my desk so I can think of your perfect pussy every time I sit down to do paperwork.” He growled out, hips never slowing. It was too much and I fell apart under him, my own free hand clasping over my parted lips as I let out a cry. I came hard, clenching around him tightly. I made a noise that I was sure was a porno level moan but all sound had become muffled except the sharp breaths Mitch was taking above me, his own movements becoming sloppy as he chased his own high. “That’s it, that’s my pretty girl, fucking look at you baby. Christ, that’s it. Take it, know you can, know you want to.” He said, deep voice more like a growl in my ear as I nodded at him, hand leaving my mouth as I panted and whimpered. 

The familiar warmth bloomed in my lower stomach and he groaned, head hanging and resting his forehead on mine as he came hard. I echoed the sound, my free hand moving to cup the back of his neck, chin tilting up to capture his lips in a slow heated kiss. He ground against me but didn’t move anymore than that, firmly as deep as he could get. After a few moments Mitch broke the kiss, panting but grinning. I mirrored his expression, letting out a little laugh as he slowly leaned back and let my legs down off his shoulders, his hands massaging at my hips as they were rather stiff from the position. “Shit- I don’t want to ruin your pretty dress.” He said, ready to pull out but hesitating because we’d certainly made a mess. I let out another laugh, gesturing to the side where the cubbies were rebuilt into the wall. “I put some towels in here.” I said, hand falling limp onto the cool surface of the desk. He leaned down to give me another quick kiss before slowly pulling out, both of us making a sound at the overstimulation before he grabbed the towels to gently work on cleaning me up. The two of us straightened one another up and I fixed my hair in the little mirror next to the door, pleased to find Ann’s make up wasn’t really smudged because she used some professional level setting spray. We ended up perched on the edge of the desk, thighs pressed together, as he cracked open the bottle of whiskey. I leaned on his arm but accepted the bottle, taking a small sip and proud that I didn’t even pull a face. “Well,” I said, handing him back the bottle. “We did it Mitch. A full bar, people having a good time, and you even have a stage. A real stage. I’m proud of you.” He set the bottle down, arm wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me close. His free hand tipped my chin up to meet his eyes. I gave him a smile, content and happy, pleased that this was how life was going to be. “I love you.” Mitch spoke softly, thumb brushing over my bottom lip. I blinked, wondering if I’d misheard him. After a few heartbeats I melted. “I love you too.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Good. Think you might be stuck now, darlin’. Stuck here, stuck with me.” He said, voice still that same soft tone that made me want to wrap myself up in him. “Oh no, not here at the bar that is my home with my insanely hot boyfriend. God, some people have no luck.” I teased, giving his thigh a squeeze. He leaned down, brushing his lips against mine when someone knocked on the door. The two of us didn’t pull away but we did turn to look at the door. “Yeah?” He called out, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Mitch, it’s Dwight.” I recognized Fred’s voice. “He stepped outside to talk to some woman who asked for him and he’s been arrested. Cristina isn’t doing well, and we have no idea what is going on.” 

“God fucking damnit.”

More Mitch and Sunny here

Well, here it is. I might post some random things from the three month break between the shootout and the opening of the new Bred-2-Buck, but for this season that is a wrap. I really love Sunny, thank you everyone who bothered to read my brainrot inspired little fit that was supposed to be 5 chapters long and melted into this. Ily all!!

[zorotlekuykauo]

W.E.B. Du Bois, “On Stalin”

Joseph Stalin was a great man; few other men of the 20th century approach his stature. He was simple, calm and courageous. He seldom lost his poise; pondered his problems slowly, made his decisions clearly and firmly; never yielded to ostentation nor coyly refrained from holding his rightful place with dignity. He was the son of a serf but stood calmly before the great without hesitation or nerves. But also—and this was the highest proof of his greatness—he knew the common man, felt his problems, followed his fate.

Stalin was not a man of conventional learning; he was much more than that: he was a man who thought deeply, read understandingly and listened to wisdom, no matter whence it came. He was attacked and slandered as few men of power have been; yet he seldom lost his courtesy and balance; nor did he let attack drive him from his convictions nor induce him to surrender positions which he knew were correct. As one of the despised minorities of man, he first set Russia on the road to conquer race prejudice and make one nation out of its 140 groups without destroying their individuality.

His judgment of men was profound. He early saw through the flamboyance and exhibitionism of Trotsky, who fooled the world, and especially America. The whole ill-bred and insulting attitude of Liberals in the U.S. today began with our naive acceptance of Trotsky’s magnificent lying propaganda, which he carried around the world. Against it, Stalin stood like a rock and moved neither right nor left, as he continued to advance toward a real socialism instead of the sham Trotsky offered.

Three great decisions faced Stalin in power and he met them magnificently: first, the problem of the peasants, then the West European attack, and last the Second World War. The poor Russian peasant was the lowest victim of tsarism, capitalism and the Orthodox Church. He surrendered the Little White Father easily; he turned less readily but perceptibly from his ikons; but his kulaks clung tenaciously to capitalism and were near wrecking the revolution when Stalin risked a second revolution and drove out the rural bloodsuckers.

Then came intervention, the continuing threat of attack by all nations, halted by the Depression, only to be re-opened by Hitlerism. It was Stalin who steered the Soviet Union between Scylla and Charybdis: Western Europe and the U.S. were willing to betray her to fascism, and then had to beg her aid in the Second World War. A lesser man than Stalin would have demanded vengeance for Munich, but he had the wisdom to ask only justice for his fatherland. This Roosevelt granted but Churchill held back. The British Empire proposed first to save itself in Africa and southern Europe, while Hitler smashed the Soviets.

The Second Front dawdled, but Stalin pressed unfalteringly ahead. He risked the utter ruin of socialism in order to smash the dictatorship of Hitler and Mussolini. After Stalingrad the Western World did not know whether to weep or applaud. The cost of victory to the Soviet Union was frightful. To this day the outside world has no dream of the hurt, the loss and the sacrifices. For his calm, stern leadership here, if nowhere else, arises the deep worship of Stalin by the people of all the Russias.

Then came the problem of Peace. Hard as this was to Europe and America, it was far harder to Stalin and the Soviets. The conventional rulers of the world hated and feared them and would have been only too willing to see the utter failure of this attempt at socialism. At the same time the fear of Japan and Asia was also real. Diplomacy therefore took hold and Stalin was picked as the victim. He was called in conference with British imperialism represented by its trained and well-fed aristocracy; and with the vast wealth and potential power of America represented by its most liberal leader in half a century.

Here Stalin showed his real greatness. He neither cringed nor strutted. He never presumed, he never surrendered. He gained the friendship of Roosevelt and the respect of Churchill. He asked neither adulation nor vengeance. He was reasonable and conciliatory. But on what he deemed essential, he was inflexible. He was willing to resurrect the League of Nations, which had insulted the Soviets. He was willing to fight Japan, even though Japan was then no menace to the Soviet Union, and might be death to the British Empire and to American trade. But on two points Stalin was adamant: Clemenceau’s “Cordon Sanitaire” must be returned to the Soviets, whence it had been stolen as a threat. The Balkans were not to be left helpless before Western exploitation for the benefit of land monopoly. The workers and peasants there must have their say.

Such was the man who lies dead, still the butt of noisy jackals and of the ill-bred men of some parts of the distempered West. In life he suffered under continuous and studied insult; he was forced to make bitter decisions on his own lone responsibility. His reward comes as the common man stands in solemn acclaim.

[jokeroutsubs]

EXCLUSIVE NEWS: Joker Out sign with Wasserman agency.

As reported by Siol, Metropolitan, and other Slovenian media outlets, Joker Out have signed a contract with a booking agency, Wasserman. The Wasserman agency, which was established in 2002, is one of the biggest agencies in the world and is active in a total of 32 countries around the world.s

The following is a translation of the Siol article, published today, 7.11.2023:

DO NOT REPOST!

New success for Joker Out

Exciting news is coming from the camp of the hottest Slovenian group. Recently, an agency that takes care of a number of celeberities has taken them under their wing, they just recieved a gold plaque in Finland for their song Carpe Diem, meanwhile they're playing multiple sold out concerts.

After playing the biggest headlining concert in their career, Joker Out signed a contract with the booking agency Wasserman, who represents many famous musicians, such as Ed Sheeran, Coldplay, Billie Eilish, Imagine Dragons, Lorde, Skrillex and Run The Jewels.

[Photo caption: Joker Out with the golden plaque which they received for their success on the Finnish music market. Photo: Vita Orehek]

After signing with the agency Wasserman, the group recieved another award - a golden plaque for their single Carpe Diem, which gathered two million streams in Finland. The award was presented on Friday by Virgin Music Group at a press conference in Belgrade which was confirmed by IFPI Finland. The song Carpe Diem has gained over 40 million streams worldwide.

"Proof that language isn't a barrier for a successful international career"

"This award isn't only a confirmation of their success outside their national domestic market, but also proof that language isn't a barrier for a successful international career," said Fabian Stilke, general manager for Universal Music Group in the western Balkan region.

[Photo caption: Concert in Belgrade. Photo: Vita Orehek]

In October, Joker Out played two concerts in Novi Sad, were guests at Rakičan manor, fired up Vienna, and played two more euphoric concerts in Belgrade at the end of last week.

The Serbian music portal Headliner wrote that it was a concert "As if tomorrow didn't exist". On Friday and Saturday, they're preparing the same party in Tvornica Kulture in Zagreb, which will be followed up by concerts in Warsaw, Vilnius, Wroclaw, Poznan, Prague, Rijeka, Skopje, Munich, The Hague, Amsterdam, Madrid, Barcelona, Celje, Maribor and Novo mesto.

Translation cr: @joyridinglove, proof read by IG Gboleyn123

DO NOT REPOST!

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Caller asks if Trump will reveal himself as the Antichrist — many believe he already has

Thom Hartmann

September 10, 2024 2:17PM ET

A supporter of former President Donald Trump wears a pro-Trump t-shirt at a Trump campaign rally at an outdoor fairgrounds, April 13, 2024 in Schnecksville, Pa. (Photo by Andrew Lichtenstein/Corbis via Getty Images)

A listener called into my program recently and asked, “Is Donald Trump the Antichrist and, if so, will he reveal himself at the debate?”

I passed on drawing a conclusion, but then the lines lit up with a steady stream of people over the next few hours offering their “proofs” that Trump was, in fact, the Evil One come to ravage the Earth. That he’s a literal and iniquitous thaumaturge. My first caller clearly hit a nerve.

It’s a fascinating question, though, whether put literally or metaphorically.

Asking the question literally requires a belief in the actual reality of a Son-of-God Christ figure and of an Antichrist opponent of nearly equal but opposite power. This sort of thing fills the Bible, and I’ll get to that in a moment.

But first consider the question from the secular perspective, which argues these two terms represent, at their core, metaphors for the embodiment of good and evil.

In this context, then, a more accurate question is: “Is Donald Trump evil, and thus an antichrist?”

In The Sermon on the Mount, Jesus spoke in the plural when he predicted “false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravening wolves.”

After warning that grifters and con artists (in secular terms)would try to exploit His followers, He said, “by their fruits ye shall know them.”

Trump’s “fruits” are pretty obvious:

More than twenty women have accused him of rape and sexual assault.

Hundreds of contractors, customers and employees have accused him of stealing from them or refusing to pay them (or both), as have members of his own family

Throughout his presidency, he lied over 30,000 times and continues to lie daily

He pits Americans against each other by race, religion, and region in an effort to tear our country apart and thus weaken opposition to his authoritarian rule

He openly encouraged violence against unarmed people at multiple rallies and encouraged state violence at a speech to chiefs of police; most recently he encouraged an assault on members of the press

He tried to overthrow and end our democracy

He embraced depraved, ungodly murderers, kleptocrats, and “strongman” rulers while ridiculing western democracies and their elected leaders

He tried to damage or dismantle political and military systems designed to keep peace in the world, including the UN, NATO, and the Iran JCPOA

He reaches out to Jesus’s followers and then directs them toward bigotry, violence, and hatred

As an object of admiration and a role model, he’s replaced Jesus in many white evangelical congregations

He delighted in tearing children from their parents and putting them in cages

He tried to end Americans’ access to lifesaving medical care by killing Obamacare and privatizing Medicare

He watched on TV, like a delighted child, as his followers killed three police officers, sent 140 others to the hospital, and tried to murder the Vice President and Speaker of the House

He lied about Covid (after disclosing the truth to Bob Woodward), causing more disease and deaths in America than any other nation in the world except Peru

The main reason many Christians freak out about an antichrist is that following him will get you banned from heaven or even cast into hell.

But what did Jesus — the guy Trump’s white evangelical followers claim as their savior — say was necessary to get into heaven?

Back in 1998 I had a private audience with Pope John Paul II at his invitation; one of his personal secretaries had read one of my books. He gave Louise and me a private tour of many non-public parts of the Vatican and, the next day, we sat through an open-air concert with Pope John Paul II and about 30 VIPs, including the leader of Germany’s Bundestag, for more than an hour, surrounded by the splendor of Castel Gandolfo, the Pope’s summer palace on the rim of an extinct volcano overlooking lake Albano.

When we spoke privately after the concert, His Holiness’s forceful comments about the work we all must do reminded me of Jesus’ words in Matthew 25. It’s an amazing 2,000 year-old story that tells us everything we need to know about today’s “Christian” politics:

Jesus’ disciples had gathered around him in a private and intimate setting.

Finally, they thought, they could ask him, straight up, the question that had been haunting them, particularly now that the Roman authorities were starting to talk about punishing or even executing them: How they could be sure to hang out with Him in the afterlife?

Jesus told them that at the end of days He’d be sitting on His throne separating the sheep from the goats “as a shepherd divideth.”

The nations of “sheep” would go with Him to heaven, the “goats” to hell.

“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me food,” he told his disciples he would say to the sheep. “I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.”

At this point, His disciples — who had never, ever seen Jesus hungry, thirsty, homeless, sick, or naked — freaked out. Whoa! they shouted. We’re screwed!

“When saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee?” they asked, panicked. “Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? Or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?” “Verily I say unto you,” Jesus replied, reassuring them, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

This is the only place in the Bible where Jesus explicitly tells His disciples what acts they must perform, in their entirety, to get into heaven.

Feed the hungry, care for refugees, house and clothe the homeless, heal the sick, have compassion on those in prison.

That’s it.

And it’s a list that is quite literally the opposite of everything that Donald Trump advocates, stands for, and has done in his careers, both business and political.

While biblical scholars are split about who the actual “Beast” was that John referenced in his Revelation, many consider it to have been a then-politically-necessary cloaking of the identity of Roman Emperor Nero.

It was clearly a political figure, who represented the antithesis of the values and works Jesus laid out in the Sermon on the Mount and in Matthew 25.

A leader whose actions unleashed “a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.”

Caller after caller to my program offered their own proofs of Trump being the Beast or the Antichrist:

“MAGA” means “magic” or “sorcerer” in Latin and multiple other languages

His grandfather’s name when he emigrated to America to start a whorehouse in the Pacific Northwest was “Drumpf,” which he changed to Trump. John in German is “Johann.” Therefore, his “actual” name is Donald Johann Drumpf — each name having six letters. (Weirdly, the same is true of Ronald Wilson Reagan, the guy who laid the foundation for MAGA.)

He illegally armed the Saudis for their merciless bombing war against Yemen which had five million peoplefacing famine as the Saudi military blocked food arrivals.

His family owns 666 Fifth Avenue.

He fooled millions of evangelical followers of Jesus, just as the Beast is supposed to do.

He put his own red-hat MAGA mark on their foreheads.

He consorts with “whores” and “criminals.”

It was an interesting exercise and conversation, and I was surprised by how many people are actually religiously freaked out about Trump.

But for me, all the proof I need that Trump, if not the biblical Antichrist, is at least a political one, is what he says and does. And I’ll bet that tonight he will reveal himself, both as a disciple of the “Father of Lies,” and through his anti-Christ-type policies.

As Pope Francis today tells us, a man’s “fruits” show us all we need to know about who he really is.

[mariacallous]

When U.S. President Joe Biden defeated former President Donald Trump in 2020, Europe breathed a sigh of relief after four traumatic years.

A return to diplomatic normality would, many hoped, provide headspace for the old continent to recover from what had been a tumultuous period. European leaders and diplomats had been shocked by an American president who made policy decisions, from 2017 to 2020, that seemed driven by anger and had scant regard for how they impacted allies.

Multiple officials in institutions such as the European Commission and Parliament privately admit that they set alerts for Trump’s tweets on their phones while he was president, as his sudden swings were often the dominant news of the day.

The damage of Trump’s first term hasn’t gone away. The former president’s scrapping of the Iran nuclear deal, agreed under the auspices of the European Union, emboldened the anti-Western hard-liners in that country. Pulling out of the Paris climate accord created space for climate skeptic figures to gain influence across Europe at a time of soaring energy bills, and encouraged anti-green rhetoric to creep back into mainstream politics across the continent. And Trump’s comments on NATO led to uncertainty and disagreement about how Europe should be protected and who should pay for it.

European officials predicted that the MAGA presidency would leave exactly this kind of contrail, which is why his defeat at Biden’s hands presented an opportunity to Trump-proof Europe. The calculation that officials made in 2020 was that while Trump had lost the election, the divisions in the United States that led to his rise had not gone away. If he happened once, then Trump—or some other carrier of the torch of isolationism and aggressive hypernationalism—could happen again.

Trump-proofing, a term that gained popularity among officials and experts after the end of his term, meant different things to different people, but essentially boiled down to three points:

The first was to stop European security being reliant on the goodwill of the United States through NATO. The second was Europe developing a foreign policy that was sincerely independent from that of the United States, which meant divergence on issues such as China. And the final objective was a true diversification of economic partners, leaving Europe less vulnerable to trade wars with the United States. These objectives would be achieved through institutions such as European Union and NATO and would serve two purposes: to make Europe itself more stable and, in turn, give Europe a stronger voice on the world stage.

These are all complex problems that require sophisticated solutions—and funds. Over the past four years, global conflict, pandemic hangovers, and inflation have created even more obstacles. But the biggest obstacle to Trump-proofing over the past four years has been disagreement between European nations.

The result? As we count down the days till the U.S. election, few officials sincerely believe any meaningful progress has been made on these priorities. Bluntly, whoever wins the election, Europe is still stuck as the United States’ little sibling, fatally dependent on Washington for both military and economic security.

Most agree that defense and security are the most pressing international challenges for Europeans. The war in Ukraine revealed not just how ill-prepared Europe was for a land war, but also how divided European countries were on how to protect the continent.

For years, European leaders have talked about common defense policies that would consolidate spending, procurement, and even troop-sharing. The European Commission published its Strategic Compass, a plan that addressed some of these issues at the Brussels-level. But when push came to shove, some leaders were not comfortable moving away from the NATO model and spending more money on something that they didn’t believe to be a priority.

Ukraine forced European NATO members to take a hard look at themselves. What they saw was the brutal reality that Trump’s criticism—that Europeans weren’t spending enough on their own defense and relied too heavily on America—was true.

In the aftermath of Russia’s invasion, most European countries agreed to supply Ukraine with arms and money, as well as increase their domestic defense budgets. However, plans for common industrial and procurement strategies that would make Europe less reliant on Washington soon shifted focus to meeting minimum requirements to keep the United States engaged.

“NATO hasn’t functioned as a true alliance for years – it’s lopsided; American-dependent,” said Benjamin Tullis, the director of the Democratic Strategy Initiative, a Berlin-based think tank.

“In the long term, we need to return NATO to a mutually beneficial alliance,” Tullis added. “Right now, as a minimum, we need to meet our financial and military targets, whoever ends up in the White House. But we are not even collectively doing that.”

Even with a war on their doorstep, getting European leaders to agree on a defense policy has proven tricky. Hungary, in both NATO and the EU, has dragged its heels on almost every proposal to send weapons to Ukraine or impose sanctions on Russia. France has objected at various points to EU money being spent outside the bloc—including in the United States—even as stockpiles of European weapons and ammo evaporated.

“In terms of defense, we are a vassal state of NATO, which is a vassal state of America,” said a senior European diplomat who agreed to speak under the condition of anonymity. “When we saw that it would take 20 years and a lot of money to genuinely build up European defense, we gave up, and our strategy became ‘keep America happy’ because why bother blowing up something that benefits us when we can spend our money on other things?”

“Strategic Autonomy” is Brussels speak for diplomatic independence. In simple terms: By balancing diplomatic and economic relations between several allies, Europe can avoid overreliance on one partner. In even simpler terms: Find ways of working with both the United States and China so you don’t get squashed by either.

In December 2020, the EU and China finished their seven-year negotiations on the Comprehensive Agreement on Investment. Economic ties with China had been a key EU priority in the 2010s and became a central plank of aspirations for strategic autonomy.

One small snag: In the intervening years, the EU—along with the United Kingdom, United States and Canada—imposed sanctions on Chinese officials alleged of involvement in human rights abuses against Uyghur Muslims. China responded by sanctioning members of the European Parliament, and the pact has been on ice ever since.

European countries are divided on the path forward with China. Lithuania, for example, caused a diplomatic stink—and a headache for the EU—when it allowed a de facto Taiwanese Embassy to open in Vilnius. However, many other Eastern and Central European countries are reliant on Chinese investment, while wealthy (read: frugal) Western European nations, such as Germany, see trade with China as a lucrative export market and as the cheapest way to reach their climate targets. Why build our own solar panels or electric cars when China has warehouses full of them?

Disagreement on Chinese engagement can even be seen in the fudge of Brussels’s formal position on China. The European Commission officially adopted a “de-risking” policy for security reasons earlier this year, but didn’t go so far as to “decouple”.

The EU has, for example, launched its own plan to rely less on China—or any other power—for semiconductors. And some European countries, notably the usually cautious Netherlands, are in favor of U.S.-style hostility toward China in the so-called chip wars. The difficulty, however, is finding sufficient commonality among 27 countries with different economics and priorities.

Even under Biden, the United States has taken an increasingly hard line on China. It is unlikely that this will change any time soon, and it’s expected that if Trump wins, he will put maximalist pressure on Europe to make a choice. That could get messy in a dangerous world where Europe’s economy remains sluggish but also relies on Washington for security.

Economically, meanwhile, no amount of diversification can mask the harsh reality that the United States is still Europe’s largest export market. No amount of EU directives can change the fact that U.S. protectionism hurts European countries. Under Trump, talk of secondary sanctions for companies working with Iran and threats of trade wars sent Eurocrats into meltdown. Major disasters were averted, but the United States is not a bastion of free trade. Europeans were extremely unhappy with the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act, claiming that its subsidies for U.S. companies unfairly discriminated against European firms.

Europe does have tools at its disposal if a trade war kicks off, and it has used them in some cases—most notably the Boeing-Airbus dispute, during which each side accused the other of using subsidies to give its plane manufacturers an unfair advantage. Both imposed tariffs on other goods as punishment, but they ultimately resolved the issue in 2021.

Yet diplomats fear that in the current geopolitical climate, getting into a dispute of this scale would spill into Europe more than the United States. The United States has recovered far more successfully from the COVID-19 pandemic, which is still dragging on the European economy.

Many of these problems go back to Europe’s fundamental divides. There is a maxim in diplomacy that only a nation with stable domestic politics can have a meaningful foreign policy. The idea is that for foreign policy to be taken seriously, you need to know that it has the support of your own legislature.

In Europe, this is multiplied across the 27 EU member states, the non-EU countries that are reliant on the bloc, the European institutions, and NATO. If that wasn’t complicated enough, few European countries have stable internal politics. Recent gains from populist groups whose priorities range from being rampantly nationalist to overtly aggressive will have a knock-on effect.

It is not just the case that on issues such as defense, economics, and foreign policy, Europe has a binary divide; each country has subtly different positions on each issue. In many cases, because of the fact that many European governments are formed through coalition, those positions are not even consistent within their own governments.

“The EU’s inability to assert a unified leadership role on the global stage, particularly in response to crises like the Ukraine war, reveals a political vacuum,” said Velina Tchakarova, a leading geopolitical strategist based in Austria.

“As a result, Europe may find itself increasingly reactive to U.S. decisions rather than charting its own course, especially if Trump returns to office with a more unpredictable foreign policy. … Should Trump adopt a more isolationist or transactional approach, these divisions within Europe could deepen, weakening its ability to respond to global challenges,” Tchakarova added.

Division breeds inertia, which leaves vacuums that must be filled. And with the world looking so unstable, the United States is still the best answer to many of Europe’s toughest questions. Whoever ends up in the White House, Europe must make its case on Day One for Washington to remain interested and actively friendly. It simply doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with upsetting the one constant truth that has played the most important role in stability for decades: Europe needs America.

[uwmspeccoll]

It is Fine Press Friday!

Welcome to this week’s Fine Press Friday post, which features another book from our late friend Dennis Bayuzick entitled Ockers. This poem was written by Australian poet πo (1951) and features larger-than-life pop-art style linocuts created by Mike Hudson (1939-2021), as well as unique handset type by Jadwiga Jarvis (1947-2021). Ockers tells the story of the titular type of Australian man (a man that is uncouth and aggressive, but also helpful and has a good sense of humor) in an expressive, exciting manner. A fun, but sometimes crude read, the wording of the poem is further enhanced by the linocuts that help communicate the same over-the-top message as the author’s writing.

This copy is part of an edition of 40 signed and number copies and was printed at the Wayzgoose Press (Katoomba, Australia) in 1999. The entire book’s creation and execution was done by Mike Hudson and Jadwiga Jarvis, consists of handset types in a variety of serifs, and was printed on paper using a Western proof press. The creators used a concertina binding for the book.

View more Fine Press Friday Posts.

View other books from the collection of Dennis Bayuzick.

View more books from Wayzgoose Press.

– Sarah S., Special Collections Graduate Intern

[ciaheyhimm]

The Two Ministers: Galeazzo Ciano and Joachim von Ribbentrop

Probably the one of the two most interesting figures. Since I make researches mostly on Fascist Italy, it was intriguing to read Galeazzo Ciano's perspective and thoughts on Joachim von Ribbentrop, his German colleague Minister. One thing is certain: both men didn't like each other. It was a huge despise from both parties. Ciano thought of Ribbentrop as a "too cynical and suck up" kind of man. Meanwhile, Ribbentrop considered Ciano as a "hiding traitor, playing the double-agent role for the democratic countries". Fun fact: Galeazzo Ciano's diaries were used by the Allies as a proof against Joachim von Ribbentrop in the Nuremberg Trials.

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On May 22, 1939, the Kingdom of Italy and Nazi Germany entered into the Pact of Steel signed by their respective Foreign Ministers Galeazzo Ciano and Joachim von Ribbentrop. This agreement was greeted with great enthusiasm by the press: "unfailing friendship between our two peoples." Ciano wrote in his diary, a few days after his execution in January 1944: "The tragedy of Italy began in August 1939. On my own initiative, I went to Hitler's headquarters in Salzburg and was suddenly confronted with the cold and cynical Germanic determination to provoke the conflict. The alliance between Italy and Germany had been signed in May. I had opposed it, making every effort to delay such a step, or at least make it ineffective. There was no reason, on the other hand, in my opinion, to bind oneself for life and death to the fate of Nazi Germany. I had favored, it is true, a policy of cooperation, because of our geographic location, because we can and should detest, but not ignore that eighty million Germans brutally burden the heart of Europe. The decision to cement the alliance was made suddenly by Mussolini, while I was in Milan with Ribbentrop. Several American newspapers had published that the Lombard metropolis had welcomed the Reich Foreign Ministry with blatant hostility, and this was evidence of Mussolini's diminished personal prestige. He was in a state of rage. By telephone he ordered me to accept the German demands for an alliance, which I had held in abeyance for more than a year and hoped to send off again. Thus was born the "Pact of Steel." This decision, which was then to have such a disastrous influence on the life and future of the Italian people, was due solely to a spiteful reaction on the part of the dictator to certain rash and baseless statements in some foreign newspapers." Actually Mussolini is worried because subsequent to the Pact of Steel the Nazis assure him that they do not want to wage war for the time being, but he is beginning to be not so sure. Italy in 39' is completely depleted, exhausted by the Ethiopian War and the intervention in Spain on the side of Franco, later the winner of the civil war. Despite the positive outcome, wars cost huge sums of money and the Italian budget suffers greatly; entering a world war in this condition would be difficult to sustain. Galeazzo Ciano, Foreign Minister as well as Mussolini's son-in-law, writes in his diary in early August, "the time has come to see how things stand: the game is too big."

On August 11 Ciano flies to Germany, is sent to von Ribbentrop with instructions to explain to him that to wage war at that time would be madness. On the question of Poland, the Kingdom Minister asks his peer, "do you want Danzig?" von Ribbentrop replies, "not anymore, we want war." Later, during the reception, Ciano approaches one of his aides and says in his ear, "we are at blows." Ciano, worried, wonders if the Germans have considered the likely intervention of England and France and how they intend to deal with them. But Ribbentrop is sure, they will not dare to intervene, Germany will invade Poland and have a free field. It is a bet on the non-intervention of the Western powers, as in 1914, when Kaiser Wilhelm's Germany invaded Belgium sure of no consequences from England. This time they really make the bet: von Ribbentrop proposes to Ciano that if England and France stayed out then Italy would give Germany a Renaissance painting; if not, Germany would give Italy a collection of ancient German weapons. But Ribbentrop is sure: "We will wage war and it will not become a world war, because France and England will not dare to intervene."

Ciano returns to Rome, and it is now clear that the Nazis are about to invade Poland, as well as that Hitler expects Fascist Italy, as declared at the 1937 Berlin Assembly by Mussolini, to march with its ally all the way. But the Führer does not know that Italy is prepared to hold out to avoid imminent catastrophe given the weakness of the army. When the Duce finally comes forward and confesses his country's total unpreparedness, the Germans first turn up their noses, then they are fine with it as long as Italy's neutrality is not flaunted too much around. On September 1, 1939, Germany invaded Poland triggering the tremendous conflict that for six years displayed the greatest atrocities in human history. Italy would enter it about a year later when during the famous Piazza Venezia speech on June 10, 1940, Mussolini announced that "The declaration of war has already been delivered to the ambassadors of Great Britain and France." It was "the hour of irrevocable decisions" that led Mussolini and the Fascist regime to its fall.

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Sources: Alessandro Barbero, Galeazzo Ciano's Diaries.

QOD: What do you think about Galeazzo Ciano and Joachim von Ribbentrop?

-------

Photos:

[bluemantics]

Ring, a small bell tinkled, signaling the entrance of someone into the bar.

“We’re closed,” Lance called from behind the bar, rubbing it down with a cloth. Cream-colored towel smoothed alcohol stains off of the deep mahogany, and Lance stepped back for a moment to take a break and admire his work.

“Do I not get an exception?” a thick western accent drawled. Lance’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Keith,” he murmured. There he stood, just in front of the door, his whole outfit white and black save for his red boots. Lance loved those. They were proof that Keith could be sentimental, if anything.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lance said into the silence. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast between his accent and Keith’s, the irony of him telling Keith to leave. “It’s not safe, Red.”

“Pfft.” Keith sidled up to the bar, a dangerous gleam in his deep purple eyes. Lance shuddered. “Since when has danger ever stopped me… or you, apparently?”

Lance froze, halfway turned to clean up the back wall. “Sorry, what do you mean?”

Keith reached over the bar to grab himself a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass, staring at it and swirling it under his palm, gaze now turned down to the drink instead of Lance.

“What would the people of this sweet ol’ town say if they knew that their kindly bartender was not just hangin’ round with the fearsome outlaw Red, but was an outlaw himself?” Keith quickly looked up to see Lance, expression flint, waiting for the other foot to drop. “Ain’t that right, Blueshot?”

BANG.

Keith stumbled back, hands scrabbling for purchase in his coats, but Lance hopped over the bar in a smooth motion and grabbed his collar. He quickly shoved Keith back to the wall, pressing his back to the dark blue paint. Keith’s hands came up.

“That,” Lance hissed, pointing to the hole in the wall next to Keith’s head. “Was a warning shot, got that? I’m living a fine life right now, alright sweet cheeks? Don’t need anyone screwin’ that up for me. We clear?”

They were barely an inch apart. Lance’s measures breath mingled with Keith’s fast panting, but despite Keith’s obvious distress Lance stayed stock still. Keith’s eyes snapped to the pearl-handled revolver in Lance’s left hand.

He’d shot that with his left hand.

“Fuck, fuck,” Keith huffed. “Yeah. We clear, Blue, just get off, Jesus Christ.”

Lance just hummed, looking down at Keith with an expression he’d never seen on the previously peaceful bartender.

“I dunno,” he purred. “I kind of like you like this.”

Keith’s jaw dropped, failing to form a coherent word.

After a far-too-long (short?) pause, Lance pushed away from him. The gun vanished somewhere at his side. Keith came away from the wall, collecting himself.

“So now what?” Keith demanded, rubbing at his collar.

“Now,” Lance said easily, rolling up his sleeves to clean up more. “Maybe I’ll let you come back if you keep it a goddamn secret. And maybe I’ll see you around more now that we got somethin’ in common. That is, if you don’t get caught.”

Keith looked down to his forearm. A blazing symbol was on his skin, right below his elbow, a… V, just like his own but in blue.

“Alright.”

“Now get out of the bar, Kogane.”

[uranianrights]

Key to this complexity is the rhetoric of friendship that Western culture articulates, most vividly, perhaps, in the writings of Michel de Montaigne. His essay "On Affectional Relations" articulates the concept of loving-friendship between men, which Montaigne sees as a "perfect union and congruity." He says:

"In the friendship which I am talking about, souls are mingled and confounded in so universal a blending that they efface the seam which joins them together so that it cannot be found. If you press me to say why I loved him, I feel that it cannot be expressed except by replying: 'Because it was him: because it was me.""

Although Montaigne distinguishes this model of loving-friendship from the pederasty of the Greeks, he connects it to marriage:

“For the perfect friendship I am talking about is indivisible: each gives himself so entirely to his friend that he has nothing left to share with another. . . . [I]n this friendship love takes possession of the soul and reigns there with full sovereign sway.”

Does this articulation render the affectional relations either more or less erotic? Can a marriage be more erotic than inter-generational sexual aggression? I would argue that it could and that the kinds of relationships that Montaigne describes are a sign that male intimacy often defies the category of "friendship" that Halperin and others have articulated.

It remains for those of us doing the history of sexuality to look at those sources and consider once again how it might be possible to talk about love that means more than the non-erotic bond that these historians insist upon. I sometimes think the erotic is so central to friendship that the burden of proof should be on the other side. After all, who is to say that sexual attraction depends on hierarchy and/or that men who see themselves as equal cannot be motivated by an emotional bond that is also erotic? I think there are cycles of salience in the male English tradition as well. There are times when friendships seem tantamount to love affairs, and there are other times when they do not. That does not mean that friendship excludes the sexual; doesn't it rather suggest that friendship may exclude erotics at times and include it at others?

-- The History of Homosexuality Reconsidered, George E. Haggerty (x)

[inviberu]

birthday

wrote this for a friend's bday!

Celebrations are what Western wizards did best and with the moon out, shining down on the manor as a familiar wizard shot through the starry night sky, leaving nothing but fragmented stardust in his trail—Murr laughed merrily as he waved his hands over and over again, igniting sparks from his fingertips.

“Happy birthday!” He shouted from his broom, his eyes twinkling with delight as he spotted you among the wizards out in the courtyard. Giggling and making careless movements, he hoped that you liked the stars he plucked out for you and lined up to spell your name in the sky.

A declaration of his ardent love; as some would like to call it. He called out your name once more, inching closer and closer until his feet met the ground and he could finally run to scoop you into his embrace once more in a fit of laughter. You can try to pry him off, to shove him away in embarrassment or pure disdain but his grip was frighteningly tight for someone who looks as careless as him.

Under the light of the moon, he grabbed your wrist and led you into the forest, separating you from everyone else and leaving you alone with him surrounded by a comforting silence along with a content hum coming from his mouth. He took a strand of your hair in between his fingers, a mischievous grin on his face as he started counting the blessings he wanted to give you.

Although, coming from a wizard like Murr, these blessings felt more like curses that were meant to weigh you down. In the first place, these blessings were all meant to benefit him.

“I hope you shine more brightly than the moon one day!” A heavy responsibility he pushed down onto you but perhaps that was proof enough that he wanted you enough. To shine brighter than the moon, is to declare that you are his love. Although, even if he doesn't say it, the way he looks at you far surpasses that of when he gazes at the moon.

“I hope you live one long life!” A blessing? A curse? Perhaps the edges of his crooked smile was saying that because he wanted you for himself longer than you could ever imagine.

“And, of course,” he started, chuckling as he leaned in. His breath tickled your ear, and the stray strands of his hair brushed against your skin. “Here's to hoping that you'll be by my side for more years to come~!”

Perhaps that was more of a curse than it is a blessing. Sentencing you to a lifetime with him could be hardly called a blessing, unless you decided to acknowledge the brewing warmth inside your chest that crept to your face. The next thing you knew, you felt something warm and soft pressed against your lips and it didn't take you long to figure out what happened.

Although, when you did, the culprit already pulled away and narrowed his eyes as he shot you a cheeky smile. Sealing his blessings once and for all with a kiss placed on your lips. That's just one of the many things he'll steal from you tonight.

After all, he's a wizard. He'll do bad things and take away things from you one by one until you're completely bare under his touch. He'll just have to hope that you won't squirm too much underneath the remaining spark on his fingertips.