He knew it was a possibility. After all, he’d only rewritten the universe; he hadn’t erased it. ‘Rewritten,’ snorted a lilted voice in his head. ‘As if that ‘appens every day.’

“Shut up,” Malekith hissed under his breath, his hearts thundering behind his ears. He didn’t have time for that today. Not anymore. The former Dark Elf wove through the crowded street, keeping his eyes ahead but his face from clear view. He should’ve realized sooner, should have put two and two together the moment his daughter mentioned a ‘Captain Jack.’ But Torchwood...what the Hel was he doing there? 

‘Different universe, remember? May not be so bad in this one.’

“I told you to shut up,” Malekith growled, ducking his head as a passerby swiveled in his direction. Always so many humans on this Bor-forsaken rock. Why Emily decided to make Earth her home, he’d never understand. ‘Tha’s not true, is it? You used t’spend a lotta time here.’

This time, he let the voice be. The past was the past and couldn’t be undone. He’d learned that the hard way. Sometimes, however...sometimes, an opportunity like this fell into his lap. Far be it from him to pass it up.

Malekith finally pushed his way to the front of the crowd, ignoring a shout as he ducked under the caution tape.  Captain Jack had called for backup this time around--an extra set of hands ‘just in case.’ Thankfully, Dark Elves (Time Lords) required far less sleep than most species, and so here he was, suit and all (sans the tie) trying not to gawk at a face he thought he’d never see again.

"Jack...” Jack Harkness. After all this time...all this time? This isn’t your world, Malekith. He doesn’t know you. 

from   Sam Tyler?... fobwatched!Master

Sam could hear the guv arguing outside - loudly, forcefully and absolutely not politically correct in his choice of words. Must be his ego at stake then, the DI thought to himself. Of course, DCI Gene Hunt never took it lightly when someone waltzed into his kingdom and tried to snatch a case from under his nose. Especially not some ‘government posh knickers from Sheepshaggia’. Apparently.

That was the moment when Sam - rolling his eyes - decided to turn his back on the crime scene and stepped outside to discuss responsibilities with the so called ‘Torchwood’ authorities.

@canspotatimeagent || semiplotted thingy.

"For the last time, no, you can not take them home with you," Layla sighs in fond exasperation, shooting a mock-glare at her younger cousins playing with the four young children that she has come to think of as her own. As per usual when the twin boys were around, chaos and mischief follow, noticeable even in her home.

Honey-gold eyes turn away from the purer gold and silver eyes that stare at her pleadingly from unruly mops of platinum white hair as she hears the front door open, her smile softening as she stands up to greet her partner. Pressing a warm, affectionate kiss to Jack's lips, she whispers, "We have company. Come and meet my cousins, sweetness. Just make sure you do a headcount of our little ones before they leave."

Turning her focus back to the twins, she gestures at the one in red, his hair even more unruly than his brother's - though not helped in the slightest by Robin's hands currently playing in it - as she introduces the boys. "This is Akil," she starts, the boy with the golden eyes grinning cheekily back at her and then up at Jack.

"And his twin brother, Adjo." She gestures then to the boy in stark contrast to his twin, where Akil is casual in his red hoodie and jeans, Adjo wears a crisp white button-up under a blue sweater vest with khakis - the over all effect ruined by him currently being practically buried under a pile of younger children. "They are sons of Ra."

Akil's grin only grows at that note, shrugging slightly as he shifts Robin in his hold when they try to climb onto his shoulders. "You say that like it is nothing unusual, cousin. Father hasn't had any other offspring before us since the founding of the Court."

"He has not had any since you either," Layla notes teasingly with a wry grin of her own. "Though with you two being his last, I cannot say I blame him."

"Bah. We're delightful and you know it, Lahya," Akil quips back at her before freeing himself from his baby cousin's grasp, setting the little one next to his sibling.

"Remind me who you are again?” Cain studied his companion (or was it chaperone?) skeptically. Talk about a turn of events. One minute he had the undivided attention of a man he’d basically idolized for years (not that he’d ever use those words out loud) and now...what? He’d been pawned off to the assistant? Acquaintance? What was this guy’s deal? 

Brave New World. That’s what he'd said to Olivia that day, standing on the roof of the hospital hours before his life fell apart. I get it, he’d thought desperately, clenching and unclenching his hands (anything to release his fraying nerves.) Ten years had passed since they’d seen each other. Ten years, and she’d gone from an impulsive new recruit to effectively running her department. It was impressive, and Stabler would be impressed, if this lofty new title hadn’t apparently made her forget that working overseas was not, in fact, the same as living under a rock. He knew damn well the world was changing. Weren’t the last few months proof of that?

He shook his head, a semi-subconscious action, and continued down the city street. It was late, later than anyone ought to be working on this case (his superior’s words, not his own) but sleep didn’t come easy these days. Besides, he’d reasoned, taking care not to wake his youngest son as he’d slipped out the door. A walk might do him good. Calm the mind and all that other psycho-babble. 

Despite the time of night, New York was aglow with activity (the city that never sleeps, how fitting); it wasn’t long before Stabler spotted his destination. On the outside, it looked like every other big ticket bar on the block: tall windows that in the warmer months, opened up to the world, awnings baring cursive inscriptions and orange lighting that flooded the streets, warm and inviting to anyone out in the autumn air. That’s what I’m counting on, Stabler thought, stuffing his hands in his pockets. If their leads were headed in the right direction (and he’d like to think they were) these big ticket bars drew in big ticket names, including a few rumored to be flirting with the elusive Essex corporation. 

“They’re only rumors though,” Sargent Bell had reminded him, flashing him a look she often used when she suspected he was going to do something reckless. A muscle pulsed beside his jaw, and he pushed the memory aside. 

“Brave new world,” Stabler muttered, blowing out a breath. If even half of what they’d heard were true, then there was a much bigger problem than any would-be impulse decisions. 

Send me ☏ for a terrified voice mail from my muse

The voice on the other end is hushed, frantic and laced with labored breath.

“Jack, are you nearby? I know you work in Cardiff sometimes. I'm --shite--I'm trying to heard out some mutant kids but something's going on. I sent Betsy on ahead but she hasn't come back. There's all these explosions and -

In the background, a distorted shriek like an engine dying sounds vaguely like the word 'EXTERMINATE.'

“- the kids are safe for now, but I dunno how long it'll last. I've got an ice wall keeping them in -- that old warehouse we passed a few weeks ago, remember? You said you used to work there.

Another explosion and this time, the screams sound all too human.

When’s your birthday?

I’m a January baby ❄️

Do you prefer angst or fluff?

Both at the same time❤️ hurt/comfort threads are my favorite

Any RPers you look up to?

@canspotatimeagent​ || random starter.

“You know, I have never actually been a fan of sonic technology,” Layla muses as she makes adjustments with her own precision tools she’d managed to get from her father’s laboratory. “My hearing is too sensitive to be able to tolerate it for long. Plus the fact that those who know what they are doing...”

A pause as a spark jumps from the vortex manipulator, honey-gold eyes narrowing as she reaches up to change the magnification on the lenses in front of her. 

“They can make quite a mess out of technology. Not that these devices are exactly ideal means of travel, but they are still more efficient than lodestones.”