"by viewing this pornographic content while being under the age of 18 you are breaking a federal law—"
no government today haha dicks all around
every time I still get that “ahaha yeah sure I’m totally 18” and then I go ….wait.
The fandom blog of an illustrator, author, graphic designer and awards-nominated comic artist. Main blog at blog.blanchetmarie.com
Formerly sainatsukino
"by viewing this pornographic content while being under the age of 18 you are breaking a federal law—"
no government today haha dicks all around
every time I still get that “ahaha yeah sure I’m totally 18” and then I go ….wait.
@banana-with-a-bow-tie I agree with Citrus I’m sobbing thanks
Oh, a colleague of mine just wrote her PhD dissertation on this!
This is the Grave of Maria Magdalena Langhans by Johann August Nahl. Nahl was hosted by the pastor and his pregnant 28yo wife Maria Magdalena when she died during childbirth. Moved by this, he decided, by himself and without being commissioned to do so by anyone to make this grave for her. It became a huge place of pilgrimage for the next 150 years.
Gröning proposed the idea for the film to the monks in 1984, but the Carthusians said they wanted time to think about it. They responded to him 16 years later to say they were willing to permit him to shoot the movie if he was still interested.
This was such a great fucking movie.
We really don't talk enough about Goncharov on this site.
"Your son will take your throne from you," they prophesized, spitting each word out of teeth clenched tight with hatred. Why they'd bother prophesizing such an event befuddles you; your son is literally your chosen heir, after all.
Years later, you realize what the prophets meant. For most of your life your son was your pride and joy; an academic, who would surely lead the kingdom into greater health and wellness. Until he committed the ultimate act of betrayal.
"You will not take my throne from me!" You cling to your grand chair so hard your knuckles turn white.
Your son sighs. "Dad. Dad it's lead-"
"Of course it's lead! It's a strong metal, signifying the strength of our country- this throne has been passed down the royal line for 300 years, 15 rulers before me-"
"That is not enough time for that many people!" Your son throws his hands up in the air. "Because it is lead! It is poisoning you! Didn't you wonder why grandpa died at 40?"
"Ah, pfoo! That's the ancestral curse."
"It's the throne! The throne is the ancestral curse!!!"
the son successfully convinces his father to give up the lead throne. he lives and rules peacefully for much longer than his family’s previous generations, dying in his third score.
the son, upon coronation, receives his own prophecy: “your daughter will tear your castle to the ground.”
now, this is a bit more of a cause for immediate concern, but unlike kings of old, he decides that the best way to avoid this surely gruesome future is to love his daughter the best he can, encourage her interests, and guide her with a steady hand - if she is to ruin his kingdom, after all, then let it be with iron will and care for the people.
his daughter is not violent at all, will only hunt if they promise the kitchens will cook what is killed and will give some to the people, and only takes a passing fancy in swordsmanship (which he thinks is more to do with the jawline of the instructor, not that he says anything). she loves to study and read, and when she asks to go for further education in a different corner of the kingdom, he allows it.
after one year, she returns, and spends the first week back acting shifty. she is always caught ducking out of corners and hidden passages, whispering with staff, and pouring over old maps of the castle layout in the library, hurriedly covering them up when anyone passes.
he privately gets his affairs in order.
two weeks after her return, the king’s daughter approaches her father with a steely look in her eye and a grim set to her jaw.
“father,” she begins, “what do you know of asbestos?”
Dealing with fruit flies makes me sympathetic to how the theory of spontaneous generation held on for as long as it did. Where the hell did you little shits come from. Get out of my fruit