Jan 22, 2013
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Fav Lokis?
((Oh gods, oh gods, don't make me choose. There really are too many of them, I interact with so many different Lokis, each with his own unquiness.
If I had to name but a few... deceiver-of-fools, frostprinceloki, divinemortal, frost-and-lightning, thewasandshouldbeking, and bringer-of-ragnarok.
But they're, like, the tip of the wondrous RP category that is Loki. To list all of them would take a rather long time that I, unfortunately, do not possess.))
(People I currently have replies waiting for in my drafts:
intrigueandcharisma
hawkeyedwoman
princelokiofjotun
youvegotthewrong
divinemortal
conartistbennyinlondon
If you guys are still still interested in rping with me or if you want to start anew, please drop me a line.
And if anyone else wants to rp with me, I would be more then happy to.)
((Heading to sleep because work and not much sleep for the past two nights. Two replies done! That's something, right? And I've got some passed away asks to do, and a couple of other random asks to reply to. But feel free to chuck in some more stuff, especially those passed away ones and the ''torture my muse'', because I love being a sadist to Baldr.
Oh, and guys, if you all want to do me a favour which you won't regret... You should follow this Loki. They're an utterly wonderful, dark Loki and, if you should decide to follow them, I promise you there is no disappointment to be found, only sheer marvelousness. (Or you can follow their Thor, who very much enjoys taking the mickey out of Baldr.) Go, my lovely friendly Baldrlings. Go make a person happy :) ))
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Closed Starter: All I Wanted Was You
Empty.
That was all.
Just empty.
There was a sensation that went along with empty. It was what some people might compare to cold, or lonely, or even restless.
Empty was nearly Sherlock's least favourite, second only to hurt, which was so rare that it was at this time quite entirely forgotten. It made Sherlock fidget on the couch, made the stale tang of the air far too apparent, a soft buzzing just against the underside of his skull burning through his consciousness and making it impossible to stop thinking. Thoughts that raced, constant, bright and dark and colourful and constantly moving against the backs of his eyes, like a garish cinema.
Unsettled, unable to breathe for the words that were stifling and choking against his throat and into his nose and down to the very veins of his lungs, Sherlock let out a beastly noise and fidgeted right off of the couch. The sudden impact of his body to the floor shocked him, for a moment, and he lay there, staring at the vague white-grey of the ceiling, letting his mind rest. Only a moment, just long enough for him to start to fall asleep, until the buzzing recommenced, making him close his eyes in frustration, see the swirling pastels of his own neural network again, and it started all over.
He took a shower, shaking off every bit of the feeling, but the second the cool air hit his body his skin began to itch. Frustrated, he sat on the edge of the tub and ran his fingers through his hair over and over, ruffling it, shaking himself, trying to loosen the threads of his mind, woven too tight. A second later he was up, raiding his dirty refrigerator. Curdled milk. Bread ends. Broccoli - why did he have broccoli? Tea. He should make some tea.
A few minutes, a scald, and seven nicotine patches later, he sat on the couch once more, clad in loose pyjamas, fingers steepled against his lips. Breath after slow breath was taken, his mind settling finally. There was nothing to do, that was the problem. Absolutely nothing. He couldn't leave his current residence, couldn't satisfy himself with what he was allowed to explore on the internet, couldn't even get lost in a new book. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Before, this had led to terrible consequences, being left alone with his own mind and nothing to distract him.
And those had been his last nicotine patches.
The tea went cold. He'd run out of ideas. His fingers felt warm against the crook of his arm. If he was human, he might have felt sorry. For now, he was simply glad that the colours of his neural network were cool rather than feverish and gold, that the sensation of insects under every inch of his skin was gone, and that, in a way, he could sleep.
At least this way he wouldn't dream.
((Right, I can actually endeavour to sleep now that I've purged some of my replies.
People I know I owe:
youwillkneeltome,
freelancebirdy,
divinemortal (and I need to reply to your fanmail as well <3)
yourlittleblondegoddess,
onceuponawintersoldier,
rubysfoster.
And I owe Clint and Sigyn a drabble (still only half completed).
If you're not on here, send me a link or a message or like this and I shall get round to it! Thanking you all muchly <3))
Kept In Darkness [Closed]
Passive aggression burned in Baldr's gaze as he stared at the floor by his brother's feet. His tongue was heavy with words he wished to speak, the questions broiling in his chest to near-gag him in eagerness to erupt. Wisely, he made the silence hold sway, rather than shatter it with accusations and queries. The fear of retribution kept the young god immovable, along with the nervous anticipation that turned his blood to solid iron. Even the thought of being on the recieving end of Loki's sharp tongue was enough to chill the spine, let alone truly be scarred by the cutting words. A thunder-crack rang out, breaking the glum torpor that fogged his mind. Looking up, Baldr met the serpent's eyes, where a smug pleasure glowed. The Trickster snapped his pale, slender fingers again, demanding immediate attention.