@compassofsouls / compassofsouls.tumblr.com
Hey, Mojito here! Below’s a link to my rules page for this blog, as well as muse bios for OC’s. Please check 'em out! I update whenever there’s a need but feel free to get in touch if you have any questions!
Current muse list:
Jade Sumaye (OC/POTC) // Nathaniel Blake (OC/POTC/Fandomless),
Kurt Wagner (616/multiple verses) // Rocket Raccoon (MCU),
Proinsias Cassidy (Preacher) // Geralt of Rivia (Witcher),
+ request muses.
Rules & Character Bios HERE
Loki can feel the melancholic air to the warmth between them. He hates that his tragedy has drawn in his friend and pained him, even if in the end it has saved him, just as Mobius saved him, too. Friend. Stupid word. Wrong word for what his heart cries, because it feels so much more. Finally he has surpassed what Mobius knows about him and can at last be a surprise. Except he can't be here. It's cruel.
He nods. "For now at least. I'm keeping them alive. They can't survive on their own, although I hope they will find a way to self-sustain in time. Maybe. Possibly. They became dependent on the Loom. Time will tell if they can grow naturally. Even if I can eventually leave them, I should protect them in case another He Who Remains tries to build another TVA. He found a way out into the Void before. I'll need our TVA's help to defend it, too. Your help, if you'd like."
It would be all too easy to sink into the unspoken despair which lingers on the corners of every word spoken between them. Too late, he tells himself, to blurt regrets or wishes: it would do no good to either of them to think on what they could not have. Still, it lurks in everything spoken – and unspoken – and the man cannot help but feel responsible for Loki’s fate.
Your help. Eyebrows shoot up at once, and the persistent ting of Mobius’ fork at last pauses. A little dramatic flair, something to aim for, at least, might just stave off some of that moping for now. He’s going to find a way to help Loki get back to the life he’s fought so hard to build, but in the meantime if stabilisation and security are the focus, everything else will have to wait. Besides, he’d said he had a life to live – and he does – but who’s to say he can’t freelance now and again? It nags at him now that he can't take this rest, not truly, until the story's done. With Loki out there it just feels incomplete.
“What, you haven’t heard?” He knows Loki’s heard, he’s just being obtuse for the sake of it, “I retired about, oh…” a check of the watch follows, “six hours ago, pal. You’re already trying to pull me back in? Just can’t let an old man rest, huh?” Mobius tuts, though it’s well evident what his true feelings are on the matter. “Well, I guess there’s no rest for the wicked. Any specific ideas on what shape that help could take? I gotta admit I’m not sure what I could really do for you these days without the TVA.”
When first he’d agreed to this new life, three hundred-odd years ago, the world had been a different place. Ever there had been duties beyond those of the simple grim he had become in order to fulfil his penance: ferrying and protecting souls was but a small piece of the jigsaw, and active hunting was order of the day.
That had been when such errant creatures stalked the earth in number. As progress rolled on ever faster, as a boulder down a hill taking with it great swathes of land, the greatest of evils began to reside more and more in the hearts of men. It was less of a given duty for Nathaniel, and less often were his services called upon for more than guarding the church he was last inhabiting.
This time, it had been over sixty years since last he had been able to set foot off of the ecclesiastical grounds of the inner-city church he had wandered into. All things told it was more tolerable than the last thirty prior to that in a tiny rural chapel; there were people to watch and, on rare occasion, converse with, when they wandered through the graveyard pathways as a shortcut between city streets.
It was one such man, using this shortcut, who Nathaniel had never expected to see again. Perhaps, all told, he should have. Memories he had long dismissed battered back into his present senses.
It was dark, and he was first alerted by the chatter and noise of partygoers making their way between bars when he spotted the figure not so far behind. He’d thought it poor taste, initially; then funny; then stood dumbstruck as it hit him that no human was capable of such accurate imitation. No.
A heavy hand descended as though from nowhere onto Jack’s shoulder, gripping tightly as though he feared the man would, as ever, slip away. “Sparrow?!”
[Surprise modern day pounce for @killmebutneverinsultme ]
As short a time as he spent in the TVA, there’s a homely feeling to sitting here with Mobius, feigning having coffee. It’s a quiet time of day fortunately so there is less risk that someone who knows the timeline’s Mobius will approach him except with food and coffee. They’re probably sick of him trying to sell them jet skis anyway.
Loki smiles at the man, achingly bittersweet. There’s liable to be a god-shaped tantrum on the horizon at the choice he has made, but for now he doesn’t truly feel it is unfair. Not given the alternatives. He knows his mistakes and his wrongs, he knows his original path was fraught with misery and death. It’s only right he takes on this responsibility, for the love of Mobius, if anything else. And how wonderful it is that he can still see him.
He starts somewhat from where they left off.
“I imagine the TVA could see the Tree once it was made. I still don’t even really know how it happened. It just felt... right. I wove a multiversal Yggdrasil around the throne in the ruins of the Citadel. I’m protecting the timelines as the new Loom, fuelling them with my magic for as long as they need. I’m sorry; I realise it all happened in a blink from your perspective. It turns out you were right, about me being something more. It seems I have powers that go beyond physics, beyond the possible, but only when it's needed.”
Mobius sips his coffee slowly, its heat and bitterness helping ground him in the moment before he can get too lost in all the implications Loki has laid before him. Indeed, he’s seen the Tree – seen the mosaics and murals, too – but the TVA’s understanding, he’s often suspected, is only a tiny glimpse of the whole picture. Honestly, he’s really wanted to know what had happened to Loki.
“Well, I’ll be.” There’s no small amount of pride and awe in his voice, quietly though he speaks. There’s the ghost of an equally bittersweet smile on his lips as he considers how much has changed and how swiftly. Loki, himself, in no exception to the observation. And there he’d thought he’d known everything: so much for presuming self-awareness. Now he knows better. “Glad you finally saw things my way,” Mobius chuckles, “and of course you picked one heck of a time to show us all.” He picks up the fork at the side of the plate, but toys with eating the pie and instead taps the tines lightly against the handle of his mug. “So your magic’s keeping the timelines stable, but that means you have to keep watch on them?”
I think I'm still not tired/bored with Joe's characters bc they're so miserable and I can draw them crying when I'm feeling bad in dozens of different ways 😃
/mysterious silence/
The mood shifts at once as Corlana finally snaps in the face of his relentless taunting, then shifts again when she speaks. Nathaniel's entire being seems to bristle, indignation rising hot in his face. Without thinking, he bares his teeth at her in absence of being easily able to move.
"Shut your fucking mouth."
[about to do a heccin bork @ Corlana @forevermuses]
She'd told everyone she was fine. Her protection spell had worked perfectly on herself and the few other Asgardians who had ventured into that temple of Aphrodite to avert catastrophe. The day had been saved.
There's nothing unusual at all about the fact her brother has been offworld for quite some time. Or that she's been buzzing with desire for days and has shifted into female form for more experimentation in her quarters in the Tower. Loki is sure she's almost over the worst of it, but it hasn't stopped her from stealing Hawkeye's bow and quiver and calling him up in the night on his private comm.
"Sweet Barton," she purrs through the channel, not caring if JARVIS is monitoring it. "I think I might have something of yours. If you'd like it back, I'm sure there is something you can do for me. Why don't you come over?"
By some stroke of fortune (or misfortune, depending on perspective), Clint had been too tired to bother removing his hearing aids before collapsing face-first upon the nearest available surface with every intention of sleeping like a rock until noon. As it is, he wakes bleary-eyed and disoriented when a voice all-too-familiar and yet different trickles through comms.
“Mhh?” Clint’s hand flails out automatically towards the coffee table, grasping at thin air for several seconds until he puts two and two together. At once his face returns to the cushions with a defeated grumble. It’s so like Loki to pull this at a dumb hour, and of course the smug little shit knows he’s gonna come running to get his gear back.
What if he doesn’t, though? He could just roll over and make them wait. Would serve them right, after all: why should he just come running every time she wants attention? He’s his own man, not some entertainment to be picked up when Loki’s bored of her other playthings.
…But she’s got his stuff. And, wait…she’s..she? Damn it, he’s too curious for his own good.
A few more minutes sees the archer, still in rumpled mission gear, standing before Loki’s door with his arms folded, hissing at thin air because he knows full well she’s listening. “Open up, Loki, you pain in the ass. What do you even need me to do this late at night?”
Sexual themes
This situation was alien to him, and yet the sound of the machine did not sit well with Loki at all. It was horribly foreboding and put him on edge. He tried to put it out of mind to focus on answering the question put to him.
"Right, so, basically the multiverse has been set free. There are timelines branching and starting their stories. It's possible to move between them with the right technology. Hence my concern of threats to the universe, only this time from outside of it."
The machine gave another loud bong.
"What is that? That really does not sound g-"
Loki's image suddenly distorted violently, stretching and replicating several times over within the same space, before he disappeared altogether in a pained scream.
And landed in the TARDIS' swimming pool.
Multiverse has been set free. Expressive brows lowered, and Theta was already begging to ask what from as his own learned experience warred with the concepts at hand, but the chance never came. No sooner had he opened his mouth, the young time lord glanced upwards briefly at the ominous sound only to be greeted with the startling tableaux of the stranger…doing whatever that was.
Theta cleared a good three feet backwards in the time it took Loki to disappear, blurting an expletive to already empty air before the ship shuddered. The TARDIS' next disgruntled bong was followed by a shower of sparks and an atmosphere of something like static electricity. Theta flipped another switch or two to try and calm her down, cursed, and shoved his thumb in his mouth to alleviate a burn from the console. His free hand pulled the display closer, lapsing into momentary silence.
It didn’t take too long to figure it out: with the TARDIS still upset, it was evident that the man was still aboard and only took a few moments more to locate him. Unable to fully remove the shrill from his voice, the baffled and shaken Gallifreyan opened comms and shouted. “The fuck was that!? the fuck are you doing in my pool?!" A button press was set to drain it, as yet uncertain if it was wise to run there in person. "Don’t make me come get you out of there!”
[Continued from X]
The way he fusses over her, Jade sometimes has half a mind to joke that she’s never needed to think about whatever happened to her mother when she has James, but she’d never want to hurt such well-intentioned feelings as his. Besides, she isn’t strictly complaining: a little fuss here and there goes a long way towards her self-esteem.
Jade’s own coat has fallen into some small disrepair thanks to an unfortunate combination of enthusiastic climbing and a coat several sizes too large: a snag had quickly become a tear. Though by no means the most competent seamstress, she’d made decent progress on repairs which had only been paused by the combination of her turn on duty and too miserable a night to carry on outside.
For her own sake, a decent bit of exercise and some sacking would have been satisfactory for the few hours she was on, but between the tempting warmth of a coat and James’ pleading expression, the selkie is hard pressed to fight it for long. “Oh, you great fusspot,” she jokes lightly, “the weather really doesn’t bother me none but if it makes you feel better.”
She takes it with a grateful nod, noting the condition not so different from her own after its battered use – she never could part with the thing – and chuckles. “Be better yet if we’d just swap places and you let me get some sleep.” No sooner has it left her mouth she regrets it, knowing full well that James will likely take her up on that. “That was a joke, before you say a word. Charmin’ as you are, you’re not convincing me to swap.” She pulls a wry expression as she shrugs the garment on. “Tell you what, though: I’d settle for swapping the coat now and again and a bit of company, if you’ve the time.”
[Batting eyelashes at @forevermuses]
A note is left for Geralt in a scroll sealed with mistletoe: 'Merry Yule! For twelve days, all monsters will look comically on theme - think snowmen, elves in silly hats, and gingerbread people. You'll be able to smell what they are still, I'm sure. For your gift, you can have three favours from me, none of which may cause me to lift the aforementioned spell. Choose wisely, dear Witcher.'
By unconsious habit, Geralt pockets the sprig of mistletoe with the rest of his alchemical ingredients before turning his gaze to the scroll itself.
"Huh." Amusement underscores the usual grunt which acknowledges anything to do with the trickster. He suspects the illusions will wear thin after a couple of days, but in his current ignornace he's more curious than anything to see it in practice. As for the favours...
Noise outside of the inn draws his attention, but for the rest of the day Geralt can't help but ponder on such an offer.
For Yule, Loki sends Clint two gifts. One is a delivery of a none pizza with left beef. The other is the god himself, sitting quietly, muzzled and cuffed as he had been in 2012, but with enough room for his hands to greet Barton in the ASL he has learnt. *Merry Christmas*
Despite his bemusement, Clint still makes a point of chewing on one of the left beef slices; dry as it is, he's gonna finish the damn lot because he's no quitter.
As he does so, he regards Loki with raised eyebrows, drawing out the satisfying moment for a little while more. Eventually, setting the pizza box down, he crosses his arms and smirks. "Now, where should I begin, you think?"
Two gifts wrapped in green and gold make their way to Mobius. Inside one is a variety pack of hot chocolate sachets and two tickets to a jet ski experience. The other is a novelty mug with the message "#2 TVA employee".
If the colour scheme hadn't given it away, there was no mistaking it by contents (hey, it could just have easily come from the alligator or something, right?). The tickets elicit a delighted chuckle and, distracted by the fact there are two, it takes him a few moments more to appreciate the mug.
"Oh, you would," he grumbles fondly at the design, rolling his eyes. Within the hour it will be in use.
"Because even if I could get them to trust me," Loki answered, "they would have a hard enough time selling it to others. New Asgard is on my list, but you can't tell me that your world fully trusts Asgardians after the mess I caused. Bruce has never been the most charismatic of the bunch and Strange, I believe he's called? He has never met this version of me and I can't guarantee he won't waste time before he listens. What's more, he uses magic. Humans don't generally appreciate that.
"You have connections, Barton. There are people outside the multiverse working to protect it, but we need to be ready on the timelines, too. There is some proof that I can show you, if you need it and are willing to follow me, but in the end, I suppose what I'm also asking from you is faith."
From the expression on the archer’s face it was evident that he didn’t like what he was hearing, much less because there wasn’t anything he could really argue. In his own way Loki was roping him into another job, and though the importance didn’t escape his notice it hardly made the situation any more palatable.
Still smarting from the sight of faux Natasha, pride railing against the creeping feeling that he had no real choice, Clint dragged hands down his face and glared. “No: you don’t get to ask me for faith after everything,” he hissed. “You don’t come waltzing back as her and ask for faith. Why do you always--?” A noise of frustration – tinged with something more vulnerable – ripped from his chest as he whirled about to try and compose himself. Why he let the guy get under his skin every single time, he’d never know.
Slow. Clint measured his breaths (one of the few things he’d actually found worth taking from therapy), and re-organised his thoughts. Back still to the Asgardian, he mumbled. “But you did come for help.” If he was gonna do this, he was gonna do it by choice.
Hawkeye turned back around and locked eyes with Loki. “Alright, take it from the top: what can I do?”
/ @compassofsouls / continued from here /
Knowing the effect he had on her began a kind of positive feedback loop; the more she responded to his kisses, the more he could feel arousal simmering in the pit of his stomach, the more kisses he bestowed. The more this happened, the less he wanted to indulge in this silly game of teasing and simply get to the point.
Still, it wouldn’t do to give in too quickly. He wanted to make this memorable, after all. He’ll ruin intimacy with any other man for her, make her think only of him, and when she’s under his thrall, all but adoring every aspect of his being? that’s when he’ll break her.
He will. He absolutely will. He’s prepared to lose her. Really. It’s the plan, after all. He doesn’t have to make her an exception, and he won’t.
It’s not like she’s special.
Corlana’s enthusiastic response caught him off guard, uttering a strangled groan. Large hands found her hips, gripping as though fearful she may withdraw at any instant. True enough his past life had afforded him a wealth of experience in flirtation and all manner of bedroom activities, but there was no denying the span of time since his last indulgence. Death and duty had consumed his life: there had been no time or opportunity. Not until Corlana. He found himself, like it or not, as intoxicated by every kiss and nip as she had been by his own teasing; worse yet the evidence was harder for him to disguise.
When she pulled away he was still panting lightly, pupils blown, hair tousled. It was undeniable fact that he’s in as deep as she, and yet pride would never let him make such admission. “Not bad,” he mused, sharp teeth bared in a smug grin, voice still breathy. “You might learn something yet, if you apply yourself a little more.”
Corlana flushed, cheeks bright pink and warm. Anger and arousal danced with movements she could not possibly understand, not while she stood here staring at him while he looked back at her.
“You are an idiot,” she growled, palms on his chest as she pushed him to the ground. “I will be grateful for the day you learn to keep your mouth shut.”
A blessing and a curse that Nathaniel had encountered her at her camp. Her armour lay forgotten next to her bedroll, allowing her to feel the heat of his body as she sat on his torso, thighs pressing against his ribcage.
“Do you have any idea of how infuriating every word you say is?”
He could have resisted her. He could have stood his ground (lord knows he’s broad enough) and made a mocking comment before returning the gesture; could have pulled her closer before she could push him down and take charge in the dance he’s almost forgotten the steps to.
He could have, yet, inexplicably, didn’t. A look of abject bafflement ever so briefly registered on the grim’s face as he let himself be pushed flat, as though not entirely certain why he was refusing to let his limbs respond. He forced an obnoxious smirk in response to Corlana’s frustration, though any confusion he was experiencing seemed to ebb at the dawning realisation of their position. Perhaps he should be annoyed in some form, but this, to him, was still feeling like a victory. Later on he would likely think more deeply on this - as it was, he let himself fall back into the moment.
“Infuriating?” Nate purred, some semblance of control restored by the momentary distraction (if, now, unlikely to last due to it). He settled hands on Corlana’s thighs and matched her stare. “If I was infuriating, you’d have walked away. I’ve seen you do it before. Why are you lying?”
The idea the stranger wanted to help him came as a great relief, even if Loki would be tentative toward trust. The fact he wasn't being captured and slung in yet another cell or torture chamber was a pleasant break in the norm.
"I think doing things that don't make a lot of sense are rather my specialty, if I'm honest." When I'm honest. "Now that I'm away from the problem, there isn't really a lot that needs doing. So long as I don't cause major damage to whatever timeline I'm on, there shouldn't be any... monsters. For now, I simply need to find somewhere to rest and keep an eye out for a different sort of monster I'm concerned might threaten the universe. You'd be surprised how often that seems to happen."
If only he knew who he was talking to.
"Sorry, what should I call you?"
Though he (by some rare miracle) kept his mouth shut throughout the response, Theta’s mind continued to whir. Suspicion had simmered down to vague caution and his focus was taken instead by thoughts of monsters and threats to the universe. No doubt if there was something that troubling he’d be far from the only person ready and willing to go help, but…it was a giddy thought to presume he might save the universe for the first time soon.
When asked for his name, a beat of silence passed as though he had zoned out. Shit. He came to with a blink and waved a hand airily as he turned to the console. Almost automatically he set about adjusting dials and flipping switches. “Oh, just the Doctor’ll do.” He flashed a toothy grin, broken only by a puzzled glare skywards as, upon flipping one more toggle, the TARDIS made a disgruntled bong. “Oi, none’ve that – he’s a guest.”
Theta pulled down a screen but seemed to pay little attention to the readings yet; instead green eyes focused once more on the newcomer. “Okay, backtrack a second: what was that about “whatever timeline I’m on?””
