Xuebing Du
ellievsbear
we're not kids anymore.
#extradirty
if i look back, i am lost
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art blog(derogatory)
shark vs the universe
sheepfilms
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
JVL
gracie abrams
Love Begins
trying on a metaphor
Keni
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bliss lane
Today's Document
tannertan36
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
seen from China
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@theoneting
|| OPEN TO VERSE ||
"Fourth floor."
But the remark on the Chinese did have a grin show already.
"I hear cannibalism’s frowned on, yeah. Best stick with the sweet and sour chicken, right?"
Starting the elevator, he did look her way again.
"So what’s your name?"
Well, at least he was still talking to her. "I prefer sweet and sour pork, actually." She smiled a little and pushed the button for the fourth floor. "Precious."
+4 M I N D S
"——I most certainly do."
"Perhaps you don't know how to have fun.... I could teach you!"
—”Forgive my ignorance. I still do not understand.”
“How is it that you speak of yourself?
"I was once gold, and was remade into flesh. I do not know why, but I find myself purposeless."
~~starter call~~
I look young But inside I am old And filled with the deaths Of other people.
Terry Moore (via paradizial)
Put "I like the view" in my ask and my character will react to yours saying that after accidentally catching mine naked.
What's your favorite and least favorite thing about each of the ringbearers?
"Oh! This is my favourite question! It’s so easy to answer!”
She stops to take a breath, bringing her hands up to her mouth as she thinks on her previous ringbearers.
“First, of course, is Isildur - at the time I hated him an awful lot. He had defeated my Master, so you can understand why I had him killed by orcs. But I did like the way he wore me around his neck - it was different, but nice.
Then is Sméagol, oh sweet Sméagol. He was by far the most reverent of my ringbearers. He worshipped me and killed for me and I felt it all very flattering. But he also lived in a dank cave in the Misty Mountains which was awfully boring, as you might understand, and when I saw the chance to leave I just had to.
Oh, and then Bilbo Baggins. Oh, it was such fun to be with him. He had so many more adventures and the like than Sméagol ever did, and though he didn’t show me off as much as I’d like, his home was much nicer than Sméagol’s. And Bilbo took much better care of me - used to polish me if he thought I was losing my shine [not that I ever could].
And then of course was Frodo Baggins. Frodo was also a sweet thing, but much stronger in mind then others that I had corrupted before him. I suppose I kind of liked that about him. More of a challenge you know — and obviously my least favourite thing about him was the fact that he threw me into a pit of lava. Well, technically he threw Sméagol in, but the result was still the same!”
She takes another deep breath and smiles, quite happy to talk of her small ringbearers. Oh! And most of them were quite small, weren’t they?
Don't you think he should be in a mental hospital?
Where does Smeagol live?
"Wherever he…wishes to live, I suppose…"
Surprise beautiful person! Once you get this, you must put it into at least 8 people’s asks (anonymously) who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing bad will happen, but it is nice to know that someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out. Help spread anon love, not hate!
*smooches*
An exasperated sigh, as he furrows his brow at the chips which are more or less right under his nose and then politely pushes them away.
"Do you have a phone charger? A— a computer. A pager. Anything.”
Hell, even a fax machine.
She holds her chips in her lap and bites her lip again before setting the chips aside and standing up.
"Sméagol has a phone at home."
She wondered if the power was still on at home.
He clears his throat—
"My car broke down and my mobile is, well—" he holds the definitely pricey iPhone up rather helplessly, “it’s dead, so could I, uh, use your phone? Please.”
Oh. He was talking to her.
"Um..." He was very tall, and she was very far down. She blinked up at him and stared at his phone. "I don't have a phone."
She held up her cold chips as a consolation.
He arches an eyebrow and tuts, very quietly. "I— I’m sorry, I’ll come back another time."
She doesn't realise he was talking to her. The ground is cold and wet, and so are the chips. Why on earth would he be talking to her?
"What?"
|| OPEN TO VERSE ||
tenensvati:
"Looks like the floor has it I’m afraid." Pausing though, the woman’s dejected state wasn’t at all something to let slide. Amused, he’d comment on it certainly. "You look like me when I lose food. Come on." Gently coaxing her from the railing, he already had a thought on it. "How about I get to know my neighbor over some takeout? My treat of course. You’ve anything against Chinese? The food, not the people of course."
"Alright," she said, and let him move her away from the railing. Her stomach growled loudly -- she'd forgotten to eat again, but the sandwich would have been heavily.
"I like Chinese. The people and the food, though maybe the food more because I can eat it without getting weird looks."
She frowned at herself. She was sounding odd again.
"Which floor do you live on?"
+8 M I N D S
bilbobackagain:
"Well normally I have some forewarning! For all I knew, that could simply be the way you spoke!"
"It is how I speak and it was riddle. Did you not recognise the riddle?"
♕ By the spell of Gold
"It depends on whether you are looking to have one." this woman had an odd way of answering questions with further questions, inevitably drawing the threads of the conversation into winding riddles, pathways of hidden meanings and barely surfacing truths; it made him uncomfortable, and yet not willing to leave her presence. Dangerous or not, this was a lone stranger in a strange land, and more than likely needed aid - as for protection, a subtle feeling simmering beneath the pools of his subconscious made him unsure as to whether she would really need it. He fleetingly found himself wondering if this was happening in a reality unlike that which he was familiar with or a dream-like state, for he did not recognise the barely perceptible haze that was spreading in his mind like a light morning mist. It caused for his bushy brows to knot gravely in the middle of his forehead, and his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. “Where do you hail from?” another question was offered, leaving him to wonder if it would be answered plainly this time.
She was almost tempted to answer with another question - which was well within her right given all the questions he was asking her. Instead she tried to give him some semblance of answer, which meant that it was probably more confusing than the question.
"Over hills and under hills," she began, trying to find where she, Precious, did hail from. "Through mountains as old as the earth and little holes in the ground with round doors. From hand to hand, royalty and peasantry, young and old and big and small I was given and taken and moved to my Master's call, but my Master calls no more. I once did hail from him, as he was all that I was, but now I hail from nothing and can wander as the wind does."
She thought of her Master, and of Isildur, and Sméagol and Bilbo and Frodo and wondered where she hailed from.
"In truth I hail from Little Pocket, though I've spent many years on Burning Neck."
She felt quite clever.
