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Widow of Nain (Luke 7)
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information-2-0 · 8 months
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luuletus-ee · 11 months
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- Tarmo Selter
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lepetitdragonvert · 13 days
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Wunderfitzchen by Wera Niethammer
1915
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yoan-le-grall · 3 months
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deadlydelicious · 11 months
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Everytime The Witcher appropriates the welsh language but the has the GALL to mispronounce it, the power of my rage grows
do you know how seldom Welsh gets a fucking look in?! and the you have the gall to pronounce it like its fucking English
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2001hz · 1 year
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Galaxy Express 999 Ginga Tetsudō Surī Nain dir. Rintaro (1979)
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baroque-art-history · 5 months
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Four Figures at Table painted by Le Nain brothers (1599 - 1648)
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anewcalamitycolored · 2 months
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A New Calamity: Page 48 Colored
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babybluebex · 2 years
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143 with eddie?
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“Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”
You looked up from your book, blinking a few times to orient yourself from the small text. You had been absorbed in a book that you had to read for your history class and hadn't really been paying attention to what Eddie was doing next to you. You had assumed that he was studying, like he had promised you that he was; however, the library didn't seem to be a good place for that.
"What?" you asked, and your boyfriend rolled his eyes.
"You keep..." Eddie began quietly. "You're playing with your hair, chewing on your lip, messing with your shirt— you're driving me insane, baby."
"I'm sorry," you frowned and shoved your bookmark in the spine of your book before shutting it. "Does that really turn you on?"
Eddie shrugged. "When you're just sitting there, looking beautiful... You're not even trying, that's the annoying part. God! Why're you so fucking beautiful?" His rise in voice earned him a shush, and he wrinkled his nose mockingly at whoever had shushed him.
"I—" you started, and you pressed your hands to your mouth to stifle your laughter. "I'm sorry? Should I apologize?"
"No, you shouldn't," Eddie said. "Go back to your book. Just know that I'm super hard now and it's all your fault."
"Really?" you whispered, and your eyes fell to below the table, where Eddie sat with his legs pulled open as always. You could see the slight bulge in his jeans, and you suddenly got an idea that you figured that Eddie would love. "Well, I think I might need help looking for a book in the science section."
Eddie scoffed. "Nobody ever goes back there," he said with a roll of his eyes. "What do you need?"
"I think I need an anatomy lesson," you told him as you rose from your seat, and you grabbed his big, warm hand. "C'mon, big boy, let's go."
"An anatomy..." Eddie began, and his eyes widened as he finally wised up to what you meant. Nobody ever went to that part of the library, so it was guaranteed to be quiet and lonesome in that back corner. "Oh, shit, yeah. Yeah, don't want you failing anatomy, yeah, c'mon."
send me eddie writing prompts!
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detroitlib · 2 months
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From our stacks: Illustration "The "Nain Rouge."," from Legends of Le Detroit. Marie Caroline Watson Hamlin. Illustrated by Miss Isabella Stewart. Detroit: Thorndike Nourse, 1885.
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luuletus-ee · 11 months
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- Tarmo Selter
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lepetitdragonvert · 1 year
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The Hobbit
Artist : Peter Klúcik
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baheuldey · 7 months
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Roi (Thorin Écu-de-Chêne, roi du Peuple de Durin et roi sous la Montagne) / King (Thorin Oakenshield, king of Durin's Folk and king under the Moutain) (Tolktober, 28), 2023, encre de Chine sur papier, 21,5 x 14 cm
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lulublack90 · 4 hours
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Prompt 11 - Fake Date
@wolfstarmicrofic May 11, word count 875
“Eugh, my mum keeps asking who I’m bringing to my cousin's wedding!” Remus groaned as he checked the new message on his phone. “She’s getting worse. Ever since Oscar and I broke up it’s all she cares about.” He shook his head and put on a high-pitched voice, imitating Hope. “Reemuss,” He elongated his name like Hope did with her lilting accent. “Remus, why don’t you have a nice boy to bring to Gwen’s wedding? You should go find yourself someone, Remus.” He grimaced. “Like it’s so easy. She met dad in the middle of a forest when that guy jumped out of the trees at her and dad came to her rescue. Knowing my luck, the would be murderer would fall for me.” He leaned his head back and cursed the heavens. 
Sirius had sat there patiently listening to Remus grouse. He snatched Remus’s phone from his lap and typed a quick message to Hope. 
“There,” He said. “Now you have a date.” He grinned mischievously. Remus paled. 
“What did you do?” He picked up his phone and gasped. “Sirius! What the actual?!” His phone pinged as Hope started gushing about how happy she was and how much she’d always loved Sirius. He had to put his phone on silent to shut it up. Sirius had messaged Hope telling her that he was bringing Sirius as his date. Sirius who he’d had a crush on for years and told his mother every little thing about it. Oh gods, this was going to be a disaster. 
“It’ll be fine, Remus. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend for the day, and then we’ll mysteriously break up, none of them will be the wiser, and it'll make your mum happy.” Remus groaned into his hands. 
They travelled to Wales the day before the wedding and stayed at Remus’s parents house. Lyall greeted them at the door but then disappeared into his study. He was happy in there and Remus was happy he was in there, to be honest. They’d never quite seemed to quite understand each other and this way was easier, much to Hope’s annoyance. 
Hope, on the other hand, wrapped them both in her arms and cooed over Sirius.
“I knew you’d end up together. You’re perfect for each other.” Sirius lapped it up. The only problem they had was Hope put them in Remus’s old bedroom. They hadn’t thought of that when they’d agreed to stay there. There wasn’t even another spare room. 
“It’ll be fun,” Sirius beamed. “Like being back at school.” 
“We never shared a bed. That was you and James,” Remus reminded him. 
“Well, better late than never then, I guess,” Sirius responded. So that was how Remus found himself in bed with Sirius. 
Thankfully, morning came quickly and then it was time for the wedding. 
Everybody made a fuss about Sirius.
“He’s so handsome Remus,” His grandmother had declared when he’d introduced him. “You ought to put a ring on his finger, so he doesn’t get away,” She’d said loudly. Remus went beet red. 
“Nain, you can’t just yell that out!” He hushed her. 
“And why not? I want to see some great grand kids before I pop my clogs, and you aren’t getting any younger,”
“Oh my god,” He didn’t know how to handle her apart from with a gin and tonic and the bar wasn’t open yet. 
“Don’t you worry, Mrs Howell, I’ll make an honest man out of him.” Sirius said, linking her arm with his and leading her away to her table. He turned and winked at Remus. Remus wished he could turn invisible. 
By the end of the wedding, Sirius had won over all of Remus’s family and all of the grooms. In fact, more people knew who Sirius was at the wedding than knew who Remus was. 
Remus was glad when they were on their way back to his parents house. It had been a long day. “So,” Sirius asked him. “When are you going to pop the question? Your Nain’s promised me her engagement ring.” He grinned, fighting back a laugh at Remus. 
“Oh, haha, Sirius,” Remus rolled his eyes and said no more about the subject. 
That night, much to Remus’s surprise, Sirius snuggled under his arm and rested his head on Remus’s chest. 
“I had fun today.” Sirius told him with a sleepy voice. “Your family is really nice, and I might just steal your Nain. She was brilliant.” He turned his head to look at Remus. “Thank you for letting me come.” He said quietly. 
“You invited yourself. I had nothing to do with it.” Remus huffed. 
He closed his eyes hoping Sirius would take the hint. But instead, Sirius pushed up and kissed him. Remus’s eyes shot open, and he stared at Sirius. 
“I was serious about that ring, Moony. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be there.” Remus didn’t know what to say, so he dragged Sirius’s face back to his and kissed him deeper than their first. He melted as Sirius kissed him back. “Took you long enough,” Sirius murmured against his lips. Remus had never been happier. He made a note to send a bottle of champagne to his cousin, because without her this might never have happened.   
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Robert Doisneau - Les nains du cirque Pinder, Paris, 1949.
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