#stojan

[smimon]

Obiecane rysunki na 200 followersów dla @silwer999 , pierwszej i najlepszej z nich wszystkich 🙌 prosiłaś o Sylwa i Podkopa i/lub sleep pile tych dobrych z ryjkaczy dla odmiany więc oto proszę 😁 mam nadzieję, że się podoba i dziękuję 🥺

Now same in English: my bestie could have asked for any character in the world yet chose my original characters anyway, because she is the best friend and I am crying now. Thank you 😭

Detail of the king beacuse he's sparklative ✨

[kingsoverjacks]

Gorgeous Maya Stojan

[angeltreasure]

“Stojan Adasevic, a Serbian abortionist when Serbia was still a communist country, managed to kill 48,000 children in utero in his 26 years as a purveyor of death.

Sometimes up to 35 per day.

But that's all on the past, as Stojan is now one of Serbia's most important pro-life voices.

As explained in a recent interview with the Spanish daily newspaper, La Razon:

The medical textbooks of the Communist regime said abortion was simply the removal of a blob of tissue. Ultrasounds allowing the fetus to be seen did not arrive until the 1980s, but they did not change his opinion. Regardless of what he believed, or thought he believed, Stojan began to have nightmares.

In describing his conversion to La Razon, Adasevic "dreamed about a beautiful field full of children and young people who were playing and laughing, from four to 24 years of age, but who ran away from him in fear. A man dressed in a black and white habit stared at him in silence. The dream was repeated each night and he would wake up in a cold sweat.

One night Stojan asked the man in black and white in his frightening dream as to his identity.

"My name is Thomas Aquinas," he responded. Stojan, educated in communist schools that pushed atheism instead of real learning, didn't recognize the Dominican saint's name.

Stojan asked the nightly visitor, "Who are these children?"

"They are the ones you killed with your abortions," St. Thomas told him bluntly and without preamble.

Stojan awoke in shock and fear. He decided he would refuse to participate in any more abortions.

Unfortunately, that very day in which he made his decision, one of his cousins came to the hospital with his four months-pregnant girlfriend―they had hoped for an abortion. Apparently, it wasn’t her first which is not uncommon in countries of the Soviet bloc.

Stojan reluctantly agreed, but, instead of the usual Dilation and Curettage (D&C) Method in which the fetus is torn apart with the use of a hook shaped knife called a curette, he decided to chop it up and remove it as a single mass.

Horrifically and providentially, his little cousin's heart came out still beating.

It was then that Dr. Adasevic realized that he had indeed killed a human being.

Stojan immediately notified his hospital that he would no longer perform abortions.

No physician in communist Yugoslavia had ever before refused to perform an abortion. The hospital and government's reaction was swift and severe.

His salary was cut in half and his daughter was immediately fired from her job. In addition, Stojan's son wasn't allowed to matriculate into the state university.

After many years of surviving the many privations orchestrated by pro-abortion/pro-death fundamentalist atheist government, Stojan was about to buckle under the pressure and give into its demands.

Fortunately, Stojan had another dream about St. Thomas.

St. Thomas assured Stojan of his friendship and Stojan was in turn inspired.

The physician became involved in the pro-life movement in Yugoslavia. In fact, he was able to get the state-run Yugoslav television station to twice broadcast Bernard Nathanson's anti-abortion film The Silent Scream.

Since then, Stojan has told of his anti-abortion stance and his reversion to the Orthodox faith of his childhood to newspapers and television stations throughout Eastern Europe. In fact, he has a strong devotion to St. Thomas Aquinas and is rarely, if ever, without the saint's books―his constant reading material.

Stojan often reminds his listeners that in his Summa Theologiæ, St. Thomas wrote that human life begins forty days after fertilization. Perhaps, Stojan would opine, "the saint wanted to make amends for that error."

Today Stojan continues to fight for the lives and rights of the unborn.”

[vintage-russia]

Austrian singer and actress Betty Stojan,Saint Petersburg (1890s/1900s)

[ostensiblywhump]

Philosophical Incident

Augusnippets day 6: car accident | plane crash | shipwreck

Word count: 500

Trigger warnings: minor injury, minor blood

——————(0)——————

“Cass. Cass! Cassie!”

Cassander let his head loll to the side. “What,” he deigned to answer.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, ya goth fuck!” Mag snapped. “Stop contemplating the secrets of the universe and tell me if it’s because yer being you or because yer head got fucking cracked open!”

Ugh, he was so loud. “If now isn’t the time for philosophy,” Cassander posited, “when is?” The road was nice and level, warm from the sun. It was a good day for cloud-watching. In all honesty, laying here and staring up at the blue sounded like a much better deal than having to sit up and contend with any injuries he definitely had.

“When yer magic-forsaken road rash hasn’t maybe sheared off important bits of your fucking circle tattoos! Have I mentioned lately that those’re fucking suicidal? Have I mentioned that I don’t like being, oh, I dunno, stabbed or burned or exploded?”

“If my spell circles were going to explode,” Cassander said, “they would’ve done it already.” They did have a point, though. Hells. If any of his circles were affected, if his clothes hadn’t protected his skin enough … he was going to have to do so many touch-ups, he just knew it.

Alright. Time to get up, aaand there was the pain. Mostly duller pain, though—he was going to have a helluva set of bruises later.

“Any goose egg-type feelings?” Mag asked, squinting at him. “Can’t check your pupils—dizziness, amnesia, anything?”

“Oh, I hate having to reimburse people,” Cassander muttered, eyeing what had once been their car. Well, it was still recognizably a car, if you liked your cars crumpled like an accordion. At least the top was open, and they both knew how to fall when they got thrown forward and out.

“Cassander!”

“No concussion symptoms, just bruises and minor cuts.” What had made it through his clothing hadn’t seemed to touch his tattoos yet, thankfully. “You’re going to be the one paying back the rental. This is on you and your horrific driving. I didn’t think it was possible to hate cars even more than I did before.”

Mag sputtered, before leveling an accusing finger at him. “Take the wheel, then, if ya hate my driving so much!” he said.

“No,” Cassander said, flat and immediate. “I would rather die. I almost did die, actually.” It was either endure Mag’s idea of road safety, or willingly put on a siphoning cuff to provide magic for the engine. He’d like to sleep at night, thanks, instead of scrubbing his wrists raw from the nightmares.

All of Mag’s fight left him, his shoulders sagging. “Right,” they muttered, looking at a vaguely bloody rip in Cassander’s pants.

Cassander instantly made an affronted sound. “Stop looking like a kicked puppy; I know what I signed up for, or else I wouldn’t have gotten in a car with you again.”

“Right,” Mag said again, lips quirking a little; he held out a hand. “Well, let’s figure out how’ta get outta this mess.”

[crocvnts]

ah yes me and my 150cm tall livi cardboard cutout that i got for my birthday from stoja

– efendim zika mlaz

[cavalheirobr]

Stojan Milanov

[arhidarium]

[o5-the-progeny]

[Astra whines in discomfort and sets her vape pen aside, sniffling and coughing harshly. Stojan, beside her, frets about for a moment before bringing his girlfriend a bottle of water, which she had signed shakily for.]

[lara-transilvania]

Pros of having a house in the Eastern European countryside with barely any neighbours:

I can play my Balkan playlist at full volume.

[kingsoverjacks]

Maya Stojan banging bikini body!

[randomrichards]

MAN IS NOT A BIRD:

Two labour workers

Lust for the same hairdresser

Circus comes to town

[uraandri]

I would say that serbian drake is mc stojan because they're both corny

do not disrespect mc stojan like that

[mucdj]

(Mayan Warrior)

[ostensiblywhump]

At the Hook (Line, Sinker)

Augusnippets day 10: execution | fake execution | begging for mercy

Word count: 499

Trigger warnings: description of death, implied/referenced panic attack

——————(0)——————

Mag knows his face goes pale when he sees the man waiting for them, the thick, wicked hook in the ceiling. The assistant holding rope in a telling noose.

They absolutely don’t care if this man’s reputation is being used to frighten them into obedience. Either that’s the case, or talking will buy Cassander time to scrounge up a miracle to let them escape, or they’re both fucking dead.

“Please,” he whispers; louder: “Please, no, I don’t, I don’t—! Not like this, fuck, not like this!”

“Not like this?” the man—Marcus? Marius? Martin?—says, an easy smile spreading across his face. “That can be arranged. There are plenty of ways to—”

“What do you want?” Mag interrupts, because they really don’t want to know all the horrible ways maybe-Marcus has found to kill people. He already knows this man would see him hung slowly, death by strangulation instead of a broken neck. “What do you want?! I’ll do anything!”

They want to yank the words back as soon as they leave—it’s too much to give. But maybe-Marius wouldn’t accept anything less, anyways.

“Are you sure?” maybe-Martin says, nearly pouting. “I’ve been wanting to see what a destroying angel will do to someone. It eases up while it’s liquefying your liver—what does the anticipation do to you, feeling better but knowing you’ll die?”

“No! Fuck no! Please, I said I’ll do anything, please!”

“Oh, calm down. I can think of some ways to use a thief as famous as you, if you’re willing to do anything.”

Mag’s heart leaps in relief; his first guess was right. “Yes! Yes, I’ll do whatever—!”

“What about him, though?”

And back down their heart went into dread.

“He’s my partner,” Mag says, not looking at where Cassander was forced to kneel beside him. “He’ll do whatever you want, too.”

Play along, they think, please play along, don’t act out and ruin this, it might be our only chance.

“Of course, yes,” Marcus(?) says. His smile widens, goes sadistic and ugly. “But I want to hear him beg for it.”

Fuck, we’re dead.

Because the keyword with Cassander is proud. He’d fought every step of the way here, to the point that he was more heavily restrained than Mag now. He never apologized or said he was wrong. He’d spit defiance to someone holding a knife to his throat.

A tense pause. Then:

“Please,” Cassander grit out.

Marius(?) raises a brow. “Go on,” he prompts.

“Please,” Cassander says again. Then, picking up speed: “Please, please, please, please, áni, áni, áni—”

He cuts off. The only sound is his frantic breathing.

Mag tries his best to keep from gaping, because what the fuck, while picking over the last word. What was that, another language? Ahni? Ahani?

… No. He’s saying áni. Because that’s Áléen.

“Please what?” fucking Martin(?) is saying.

The answering jumble of syllables is foreign to Mag, but apparently it convinces the motherfucker.

“Well, then,” he says. “Here’s what you’re going to do.”

[chetipo]

Raj JY è un font sans serif con carattere, che si spinge al limite di ciò che si può fare con varie forme geometriche, combinando leggibilità e tradizione ad angolo acuti inaspettati. È stato progettato nel 2001 da Jure Stojan per la sua fonderia JY&A.

Il nome non ha nulla a che fare con l’India: semplicemente significa paradiso in sloveno, la lingua di Stojan.