strange stirring

The Special Bequest of Francis Douce

Francis Douce was a wealthy Englishman whose hobby was to collect various antiques, especially rare children’s books, games, artwork, coins, and manuscripts. Douce had an extensive collection, when he died in 1834 he donated most of it Bodleain Library, including 15,000 books, 50,000 prints and drawings, and a large collection of coins.  However, in his will he left a strongbox containing his letters and correspondence, manuscripts, books, essays, diaries, and various other papers of rarity and importance to the British Museum on the stipulation that it not be opened until after 66 years.  The strange bequest stirred up many rumors as to what precisely could be inside the box. What secrets could lie within? Unfortunately speculation would have to go unquenched as the British Museum dutifully obeyed his request.

On January 1st, 1900 the British Museum opened the box with the entire board of trustees in attendance. Inside the box were pieces of scrap paper, torn book covers, and various other pieces of worthless trash. Also inside the box was a letter by Douce to the board of trustees, in which he explained that in his opinion, it would be a waste to leave anything of greater value to the philistines at the British Museum.

Stay with me

Based on “Imagine pleading with Thranduil to heal the Durins as they all still have a glimmer of life left in them and you know that he has the ability to save them” from ImaginexHobbit.

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Cautiously, wary of stray orcs that might yet be lurking in the depths of Ravenhill’s tunnels, you ventured onto the ice at the tower’s base.

A lone figure lay close at hand, and as you edged nearer, casting a glance across the frozen river to where a handful of your comrades searched the rocky terrain for casualties of the battle, it was quickly apparent that the body was not that of an elf. He was smaller, stocky and powerfully built, wearing a heavy leather coat rather than gleaming armor, and a mane of golden hair framed a handsome, bearded face with eyes as blue as the sky they no longer saw.

The dwarf’s rugged beauty stirred a strange rush of pity in your heart and you sheathed your sword to sink to your knees beside him, feeling yourself unsettled by a deep sympathy for this poor, lost soul who had been your enemy only hours before. His lifeless face spoke wrenchingly to you of youth, strength, nobility, hopes for the future all cut short at the merciless hands of an orc, judging from his wounds. Carefully, though you could not have told why, you took his broad, gloved hand between your own and held it as if to comfort him before reaching to close his eyes in a futile gesture of compassion.

Your fingertips gently touched his face and you started, as though you’d been stung, instantly withdrawing your hand.

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Cas wonders what color is like, sometimes. Not often, at least not anymore.

It’s harder not to wonder what color is like on days like this. He’s been told that the hearts are ‘red’ or ‘pink’ (like blood, like lips), but the words don’t mean anything. He’s only ever seen grey and black and white and knowing that something is ‘red’ makes him no more capable of seeing the color.

He sighs and picks morosely at his hamburger. Tan, brown, red, green; it’s all grey to him, with barely any distinction between the layers except temperature and texture. At least it tastes good, though he bitterly wonders if it would taste better if he wasn’t surrounded by happy couples this Sunday evening.

Trust him to forget it was Valentine’s Day.

He hears the bell above the diner door chime and looks up in mild curiosity. Two men walk in, one tall with shaggy hair and the other-

Cas feels a strange stirring in his chest. He goes still, staring at the other man, feeling oddly like the wind has been knocked from him.

He feels like he knows this man, though where from he can’t recall. He thinks he’d remember; surely he would, because nothing has ever felt like this before. His heart is racing, his palms are sweating, and he has the urge to get up from his table and run across the room to where the man is talking with the hostess, flashing her a winning smile.

She gives him an apologetic one, probably explaining that there is a significant wait. Cas can’t hear her at this distance.

All he sees is the man’s expression turn rueful, but understanding, and then he’s turning to leave.

Cas can’t allow that.

He’s on his feet before he’s aware of moving, eyes fixed on the man in the doorway. The man has turned to face him, a curious look on his face that intensifies rapidly, as if the stranger too senses what Cas feels, deep in his bones.

Cas is vaguely aware of someone calling ‘sir’ after him. Perhaps to remind him that he hasn’t paid, or that he forgot his coat. He can’t turn, not when the familiar stranger is coming forward to meet him, a stunned look on his face.

They stop less than a foot from each other. Distantly, Cas realizes that the restaurant has fallen quiet.

“Hey,” the man says. His voice is deep, pleasant. Cas nods. He feels tension in every line of his body.

“Hello,” he replies. The man in front of him drops his gaze to Cas’s mouth, then back up guiltily.

“Do you…?” the man asks, but Cas can’t find his voice. He wordlessly holds up his hand, offering the other man his palm in a silent yes I feel it.

The air around them is charged and heavy. The man visibly swallows and lifts his hand before reaching for Cas.

Skin to skin contact. That’s all it takes.

When those fingertips touch his skin, Cas’s world explodes.

He thinks he gasps. He knows his soulmate lets out a startled breath, because he hears it, but he’s almost too lost to hear it.

It’s not gentle or gradual. There is no soft fade of colors from grey to red, to pink, to-

Cas doesn’t know what to call the color of his soulmate’s eyes. He thinks it must be green; like grass, like the leaves on the plants in his garden, like the comfy sweater he’d knitted himself one winter. These eyes evoke the same feelings of comfort and warmth, of joy and peace, of life.

Wow,” his soulmate breathes. Cas is inclined to agree. He notices that the gentle touch has now become a clasp of hands and he smiles.

“My name is Castiel,” he says. His soulmate looks down at their joined hands, then back up to Cas with a look of awe and delight on his face.

“I’m Dean.”

I have been a seeing a lot of wonderful sharknnibal on my dash and would like to offer Sharknnibal from the Aquarium AU.

Hannibal is a shark who’s accidentally placed into the dolphins tank because he looks like a dolphin. He is very careful to hide who he is or the dolphins will turn against him. Random fishes that disappear are often blamed on the faulty filter or the Octopi. The only one who knows there’s something different about Hannibal is Will. 

Will is a pilot fish and the only one in the tank. He knows a shark when he sees one because his kind has always swim with sharks and live a codependent life with them. But Will has grown up in the dolphin tank and didn’t know his true nature until he felt strange urges stirring when he looks at Hannibal. 

What will become of Hannibal and Will? When Jack the Zoo director finds out about Hannibal, will he be moved to another tank away from Will? Does Will finally realize his true destiny which is to swim alongside Hannibal, luring victims to the kill? Do they make their escape and live happily ever after in the rolling atlantic?

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Marvel 1602 by neil-gaiman is half off today only!

The year is 1602, and strange things are stirring in England. In the service of Queen Elizabeth, court magician Dr. Stephen Strange senses that the bizarre weather plaguing the skies above is not of natural origin. Her majesty’s premier spy, Sir Nicholas Fury, fends off an assassination attempt on the Queen by winged warriors rumored to be in service to a mad despot named Doom. News is spreading of witchbreed sightings - young men bearing fantastic superhuman powers and abilities. And in the center of the rising chaos is Virginia Dare, a young girl newly arrived from the New World, guarded by a towering Indian warrior. Can Fury and his allies find a connection to these unusual happenings before the whole world ends?

Check it out on comiXology.com

“…when a lonely princess begins getting visits from a strange scaled boy and their journey of an unlikely friendship.”

NaLu My Baby Dragon - My Pet Princess Douji

By Inubaki (myself) and edited by the owner.

Page: (6) Chapter 5

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Page 6:

The heat was left lingering on her lips and seeming to spread throughout her face. The princess could’ve sworn she was releasing steam evaporating from her face and the steady look of confusion beginning to loom over Natsu’s expression wasn’t helping. Her thoughts and words couldn’t catch up with her leaving her a staring blank mess at him.

  “Princess? What’s with that weird face?” Natsu questioned as her weirdo face was stirring a strange mix of affection and generally creeped out-ness by her intense look. 

  Weird? Weird? What was that about her face?! How could he ask that? How could he not know?! How could he kiss her and expect her to react like it was nothing… odd? And what was that crap about a knight?! He kissed her to.. stand up a book?
 
   A fierce emotion of anger swallowed any limousine feelings she might have had and, with no such luck, tried in vain, to hold it back. It took only seconds for the anger to win out before she jerked up, eyes welling with angry tears.

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Inubaki:

And here it is. My ‘fuck it’ to class and doodle a chapter literally in the middle of freakin’ class. -And already doodling up the next page.- I have to get back into the swing of things. So I hope this is okay. A rather quiet page. But so are most women before we purposely explode on the un-expecting men without warning.

Story and art by myself!
Characters and all Fairy Tail related things belong to Hiro Mashima, of course,
Editor: m-d-tr1

What’s The Coroner Doing At Indian Hill?

Strange Photo Stirs Suspicions

A photo has surfaced showing a Gotham City Coroner’s van entering the Indian Hill dump site, and it’s stirring up questions. The coroner’s office claims there’s no reason a van of theirs would be in an area for toxic waste disposal and questions the authenticity of the photograph.

Stories and urban legends are often associated with Indian Hill due to it’s history and proximity to Arkham Asylum. No doubt this alleged incident will only add to the long list of myths and ghost stories already being told about it.