#jsi

[villaannaskiathos]

Aligned...

[wemblingfool]

You know, while I loved James Gunn's The Suicide Squad, I've come to realize he was waisted there, and should instead have been at the helm of Justice League International.

[srouby-a-matice]

[muz-z-brna]

Tato zpráva mi naprosto zlepšila den.

Zlomyslník jeden.

[closetcasefabray]

jesus saves (i spend)

i have been writing parts of an avatrice college au for two gd years now. the ideas & writing are scattered between here (one of the tags below should work), my whatsapp convos with @snowandwolves, on discord, my dinosaur laptop that crashes, & my email. it’s a fucking disaster but whatever so am i & not once in my life have i had my shit together so this is all unsurprising.

SO what i’m saying is, here’s the only part i have ‘formally’ written in fic form bc i posted that other ficlet. doing this made me almost throw my dino laptop & my phone out a window on several occasions—that’s why there isn’t more. but i just wanna share this.

more notes & rambles at the end.

//

You notice her because it's syllabus week of your freshman year, it's an 8 AM class, and you're fairly confident you're still drunk from the party you attended last night, but she raises her hand and correctly answers a question posed by your theology professor without hesitation. Your professor, Father Vincent, was likely hoping for a good guess at best, but there she is, exceeding expectations from the moment she speaks. You pickup on an accent, which you would find incredibly attractive if you weren't so thrown by her perfect and concise response, like a well-prepared speech is always readily accessible in the back of her mind—a girl with all the answers. A young woman, really. 

You, however, are not—you're just a girl. You're just a girl who shows up to her morning classes smelling like the bar or the house party from the night before, like the weed you started smoking almost immediately upon arriving to university during orientation week, like the cigarettes you smoke because it affords you a little more quiet outside and an excuse to borrow a lighter and talk to a cute boy or a pretty girl.

You're just a girl who technically died, existed in nothingness for a whole minute before being ripped back into a reality of blank ceilings and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You're just a girl strangers prayed for after they heard about the American child pulled from the wreckage. You're just a girl who didn't get any credit for teaching herself to stand again, to walk again—and if you’re being completely honest, you’re a girl who’s incredibly bitter that a god you never saw in that one minute got all the credit and none of the blame—for taking your mother from you, for taking years from you that had to be spent healing from god’s grace or lack thereof. 

You're just a girl who is tired of being told to look at her life as an expression of holiness, who thinks it is more so the consequence of indifferent stardust. But you still look for the beauty in that, in humanity and its flaws—these meaningless beings in a vast universe, creating and destroying their own little, myopic worlds on this spinning rock. Some will dream of poetry for their lovers, and some will dream of arsenals to level cities. You wonder how many lips were pressed together in a final kiss versus hands clasped together in prayer when fire fell from the sky in the name of God. You wonder what that says about faith.

You'd like to think if your mother could see you, she'd laugh at the irony because once you were baptized, she never took you to church. God finds a way, so you spent five miserable years in a Catholic orphanage before you were sent back to America. People said you were lucky to have two years in a foster family at your age, but it felt like living with strangers who were tasked with the minimum of keeping you alive. Then you were moved into a home for teen girls with a nun at the helm, and that’s where you actually felt fortunate for the first time in years. It was there that Mother Superion helped you with your studies and college applications. So here you are, tipping into a hangover in one of the oldest buildings on campus, learning theology from a priest.

But your mom would understand. (You don’t remember much of her, and you try not to think about that too deeply, or else you have to deal with the resulting ache that comes from reaching inside yourself for something that’s gone.) You have spliced together what you can recall into a short reel—you mom buckling into your car seat while humming a show tune, showing you how to fold a pizza slice and telling about a city famous for their pizza, and holding your hand in a museum in Spain, promising to take you to another big museum closer to home, the home you never saw again. So you promised yourself and the parts of her you carry that you’d make it here.

You would have had to pay almost full tuition if you wished to attend your reach, requiring immense debt, so you ended up at the school that offered you a ticket to the city and a hefty enough scholarship you could get through four years without requiring loans or a full-time job to afford it. (You first refused to use your mother’s death as a sob story in you application letter, but Mother Superion put her hand on yours and said, So rarely do these letters contain truth, but do not be afraid to tell yours. In telling your truth there is a sadness, yes—and I know you detest pity—but of all the things that have been taken from you, do not feel guilty for taking some of it back to live a better life.) You remember getting your acceptance letter, and looking up at the sky and flipping it off, praying whatever god hears you, No thanks to you!

But your bitterness temporarily takes a backseat in your mind as you look at your classmate, beautiful in the refracted light shining through the stained glass window, speaking so graciously of god you'd think Jesus were in the room, about to hand her his latest work. It's poetry, bordering on scripture in a new tongue, and you'd almost be a believer if it didn't sound as if she had repeated these words—practiced—enough times to believe them herself. You wonder what that says about her faith.

If the nuns at the orphanage had spoken the gospel as she does, maybe you'd be here for different reasons. You're fascinated.

Behold, you are beautiful…

//

i promise this fic gets lighter & has some silliness. so some notes/tangents:

this is 100% self-indulgence bc i heard ‘write what you know’ & ran with that shit. when i visited a friend at a state school in a college town i was so so confused bc it was just a diff campus culture entirely. then i was going to make this set in an ambiguous city, but i literally have saved places in google maps that would be great places to kiss someone sooooo you get NY avatrice.

likely setting this before instagram & smartphones bc i’m old/lazy & i can.

the title is from st. vincent who my friend introduced me to in college. “paris is burning” changed my brain chemistry & so i listened to her music on repeat for ages—“jesus saves, i spend” is on the same album.

father vincent will not be a bad man or evil professor. he will be as he was before adriel—a lost man who found himself through god & still a little broken but caring & devout.

also song of songs/song of solomon is like… the only part of the bible i fucked with in theology class so that’s the reference at the end. also another line used in another scene with JC, chanel, & ava written in v rough form. maybe will share that later.

this is meant to be a fic with a post-grad sequel as well. not much written of that but a lot of ideas everywhere.

once i figure out where i’m moving (hahahaha i’m so stressed), i’ll consider a ko-fi or something (i wish emails & names weren’t shown though). but mostly i will likely need a second job to save up for an actually good computer/macbook. once i have that i’ll be able to post on ao3.

anyway thanks for reading & being here :3

[leona-florianova]

Some Red Dwarf sketches

[teplejtrouba]

myslím, že bychom měli více oceňovat český dabing gončarova (původní z roku 74, samozřejmě, pro klid našich duší budeme předstírat, že ten z roku 2013 neexistuje). originál je originál, ale na filipovského s ruským přízvukem křičícího italská rčení nikdy nezapomenu. to že párkrát přeložili 'it's gonchin' time' jako 'zgončím tě/zgončím tvůj život' a ta náhodná reference na žižku je druhý nejlepší dabingový počin hned po 'tohle křoví vypadá jako halina pawlowská'. miluju

[slime-sandwhich-nom]

I was rewatching tawog from the start and like. Aside from how naive and geniuely nice gumball is in the first season (even though his attitude is still there, just occasionally) I noticed one thing

how, yeah he's clearly in love with penny but how he refers to the other girls

In the episode of the house party at Tobias' house, he has a list of all the girls he could ask for a date, he purposely avoids Penny because he doesn't think he has the chance (and he always gets embarrassed and says "oh nah she's just a friend.")

+ him not getting that penny has been trying to make a move since day one

But whenever he picks a girl, he always goes on about the reason why that specific girl would be a good date

And HE NEVER ever mentioned any of them being "pretty" or "ugly", he always picked other reasons. Like terrie was a good match for him but she was too "flat" (literally because she's a piece of paper.) for him, Carmen being smart and prickly, carrie having "spirit"

The only time he mentioned a girl being ugly was when tried asking masami out with "hey wanna go on a date with me? I don't think you're pretty ("you're not my type, my type is attractive girls") but who cares let's go anyway"

He literally finds no one attractive in that school 😭 the only person he finds attractive is fucking penny. Ever since she was in her shell (and in early seasons she was shaped exactly like her father, just saying)

He's down BAD dude

Later in the episode when he gets asked again why he didn't ask penny he goes "oh because she's too hot lmao- I MEAN. She's. She's not my type HAHAJUAIAUAHA"

Like he LITERALLY says "oh she's just too hot.." I'm quoting him on this

😭🙏 this fucking guy.

The fact that he always gets lovestruck. This man be pulling the heart eye shape.

He always gets embarrassed though, so he always ends up panicking and saying how he doesn't love her and he'll never will (ended up accepting her for who she is faster and more than her own father)

[kocourmokroocko]

"Hej, hezoune! Chceš zažít dobrodrůžo v podobě... ČDSM roleplaye?"

"Cože"

"Vážení cestující :)))"

"NE–"

[kofolacitrus]

[prussianmemes]

my biochemistry professor is an 83 year old man born under occupation in 1943 and he told us during lecture that he grew up to be a big boy because under the fuhrer, they gave extra food rations and pay to people with children, and that it's because we czechs are of a good racial quality and were good workers for the reich at the skoda works

i get almost nothing out of these 6 hours a week biochemistry lectures but i come for quips like this

we love you pán profesor schwarz

[notsofriendlyfriendlyreminder]

poslouchat natočeny přednašky z dob covidu je fucking weird

[hvezdnastreka]

I'm !!! going to find!!! České dráhy's mother!!!, make love to her !!! and give her!!! a child !!!that isn't!!! a complete failure!!!!!!!!! (Velké zpoždění :,[ )

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Lidi potřebuju co nejvíce českých a slovenských písniček, co jste slýchávali v rádiu/v televizi/u táboráku/na pařbách a obecně všude, nezáleží jestli se vám líbí nebo ne, jestli jsou otravné, příjemné, divné atd, prostě všechno, co by se dalo označit za takové typické "naše", dělám ultimátní česko-slovenský playlist

btw včetně coverů na zahraniční písničky pokud se u nás uchytily, např. Veď mě dál cesto má

edit: playlist tady

[muz-z-brna]

Když mamina od vedle poví, že je její mimináč cuťáčkovatější než mimináč tvůj;

[naughtydogg]

he’s so fine I swear 🥴