You had been in Rivendell for 3 weeks, and now 5 hours. 3 weeks 5 hours since you had been in middle earth filled with creatures and different races you could never have imagined for dreamed.
And the most stubborn of these races were the dwarves. While learning of the races from Lord Elrond, you had come across as few books about the race of dwarves, the books you read emphasizing their stubbornness.
It wasn’t until you personally had met Dwarves, that you truly believed in their stubbornness. It wasn’t until you came face to face with the King of hardassness, Thorin Oakenshield, that you truly wanted to throw someone over a bridge.
Thorin Oakenshield, while devilishly handsome, striking blue eyes matched with stark dark hair and a straight nose, was a stubborn bastard.
After meeting him briefly, you followed Lindir to the meeting room and waited, wondering just what Lord Elrond and the Wizard had wanted to speak about.
You had just hoped they’d have an answer as why in the hell you’d been torn from your world and dropped into this one. And also why you had a permanent black tattoo stamped on your arm.
As you waited, you began drumming your fingers on the table in front of you, waiting impatiently. You had been told to come here and wait, hopefully for answers, and had been told they’d be here shortly.
But shortly wasn’t short enough for you. You wanted them to get here, give you answers and then you could skirt away to avoid dwarves.
When the doors slammed open, you jumped and faced the men now coming into the large room, the grump leading them.
As he came to sit in front of you, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave you a heated glare.
“Hello again, sunshine! It’s been so long since I’ve seen your pretty smile!” You over exaggerated each word and ended with a bright, fake smile.
You didn’t care that the man was giving you a death glare, or the fact that he growled low in your throat. You didn’t care that you could see weapons on his person, sharp enough to cut you down you were sure. But you didn’t give two shits.
“Lady Y/N, I suggest you stop antagonizing Thorin.” Lord Elrond approached the table with the wizard behind him, you turned away from Thorin, addressing them.
They both sat, Lord Elrond’s hands coming to rest on the table. He had looked at the pair of you, Thorin them yourself, before clearing his throat and nodding.
“It seems that since your arrival, Lady Y/N, Thorin’s fate has possibly changed.” You looked out of the corner of your eye, watching as Thorin’s face twitched.
He sat upright, paying more attention to what was being said. Although he still had a pained look on his face, and you weren’t sure if it was to do with you or not.
“What do you mean?” You glanced down at the black ink on your arm, touching the thick and permanent lines.
“It’s seems Thorin Oakenshield, that your soul has becomes attached to Lady Y/N’s.” The conversation they were having took a very awkward turn, and the silence became thick and heavy.
Neither one of you spoke a word, you were still trying to process, and you couldn’t imagine what hardass was thinking.
“I’m sorry..? His soul is attached to mine..?” You really hoped he was kidding.
You didn’t want Lord Elrond to be serious. You wanted him to be bullshitting you, because that was some kind of horcrux shit.
“Your souls are attatched, the mark on your arm proves it.” What the hell did this mean? What did this mean for you?
“The tattoo? What does that have to do with anything?” You raised your arm, your eyes wandering every ridge and curve of the tattoo on your skin.
“It is the royal crest of Thorin Oakenshield. It is is inked on your skin, and it is proof.” What did this all mean, though?
“It is not possible.” You turned your head, eyes narrowing in the direction of Thorin.
“Oh he speaks! He’s not a mute!” Every time you opened your mouth to speak, or actually spoke, you were sure Thorin pictured your head exploding.
The two of your, ignoring Lord Elrond and Gandalf, glared at each other. Thorin crosses his arms over his chest, surprise surprise, while you drummed your fingers on the table.
“Lady Y/N, Thorin, this means that since your souls are attatched, if Lady Y/N should die, so shall you Thorin.”
Going to an illict TV episode streaming site is like descending into some infernal faery netherworld filled with false doors and conniving tricksters who want to trap you there for eternity, or send to you back to the mortal realm carrying some kind of contagious curse. Every time you agree to something you have to double-check what you’re looking at or where you’re being led since a false path will always open up adjacent to the one you really want to go down. You might very well end up trapped with no way to get out except by making a horrible bargain with a creature eager to wreak havoc back on Earth
It Came from Outer Space (1953) Invaders from Mars (1953) The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953) Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954) Them! (1954) Tarantula! (1955) Forbidden Planet (1956) Earth vs. the Flying Saucers (1956) 20 Million Miles to Earth (1957) The Black Scorpion (1957)
Back in the day, my old gaming group used to play a game called “why do we even have that lever?”. It works like this:
1. Person A describes a puzzle or trap - the sort of bizarre adventurer-shredding contraption you might encounter in the course of an old-school dungeon crawl that makes absolutely no sense if the dungeon in question was ever supposed to be a facility that people actually used.
2. Person B proposes an explanation for what the “trap” in question is really for - i.e., why it’s not a trap at all, but a totally practical feature of whatever sort of place the dungeon originally was.
3. Person B then describes their own trap to keep the game going.
The only hard rule is that the explanation offered in step 2 absolutely can’t be “it’s a puzzle” or “it’s a trap”; you have to propose some pragmatic function that actually makes sense in the context of the dungeon being the ruins of someplace where people lived and worked. The way it currently works can be justified as a consequence of it having malfunctioned or partially fallen apart, but there has to be some plausible purpose it could have originally served.
For example, I might ask:
“Why is there a room where the entire ceiling is a giant magnet?”
… and you might respond:
“It’s a security checkpoint for the armoury of magical
weapons that lies beyond. The presence of the magnet means that weapons
can only be safely brought in and out of the armoury using special
weighted cases, making it very difficult to steal or substitute items.”
a laboratory formerly used for experiments involving dangerous
creatures from the Elemental Plane of Earth. The powerful magnetic field
wholly paralyses all but the mightiest earth elementals, allowing them
to be studied at one’s leisure.”
“It’s the old Queen’s
gaming room. During her reign, a game of strategy involving man-sized
stone pieces on a multi-level board had become fashionable. Though most such games required large work crews to move the
pieces around, the Queen’s magnetic chamber - in conjunction with large
metal bars driven into the core of each piece - allows the pieces to be
manipulated by a single person. Many of the pieces still lay scattered
about the room, in various states of disrepair.”
Then you’d describe your own trap.
I’ll start us off with a simple (and apropos) one:
Why is there a lever that drops a giant stone block on the person who pulled it?
“I have visited lairs, burrows and nests across five continents, observed the curious habits of magical beasts in a hundred countries, witnessed their powers, gained their trust and, on occasion, beaten them off with my travelling kettle.”
assume you all know about the deep web. Well, what you’ve heard is
true, it’s not a great place. While some people are there to score legal
weed or firearms, or even out of sheer curiosity, others… well
they’re obviously not up to anything good. But I’m not here to talk
about those sickos. I’m here to talk about what lies beyond that point.
The more cryptic and unexplainable part of the internet. The part that
nobody’s really supposed to see.