#princesspeach212

[ask-loki-laufeyson]

The meeting (Closed Rp)

Loki sighed softly and waited impatiently for the tournament to begin. He was tapping his foot on the ground. He didn’t really want to be there, but was unfortunately obligated to stay. He crossed his arms and looked around the mass of people around him, spotting a couple of new people he hadn’t recognised before. One of them being a young woman. He walked over to her to her. “Hello stranger.”

@princesspeach212

[roshytsunami]

Library au

To say Rachel was bored would be an understatement. She really didn't want to be here. Well she did just not on the clock working. She had been a tutor at the high school since she went to this high school but that was three years ago. She was a junior in college and kind of done tutoring high school stusents. It wasn't that the tutoring was difficult she just wanted time to herself and she couldn't really do that while stuck in club lib. Sure the free Wi-Fi was great but having to leave here at six just to get home by seven and then start I her own massive homework was draining her. Well it was junior year more difficult and her senior thesis was going to be worse next semester. She sighs and takes out her tablet and begins to play some mind numbing game that deals with fighting monsters. She hears a throat being cleared and looks over at a new face.

"Um hi...did you need a tutor in math or are you looking for the librarian? She just went out but I couod help you find a book if you need it?"

[rreader]

May I request something? Some Bruce Banner x reader? Like instead of suicide attempts, Bruce self-harm like depriving himself of food or eating a little then dumped the rest. Nobody notices until the Reader finds him passed out?

pairing: bruce banner x readerfandom: mcuwarnings: attempted suicide ; self-harm (food deprivation) ; languagegenre: angst

summary: you had genuinely thought he was better. until you came home from a long mission and found him passed out. you knew that he was still nowhere close to ‘better’.

a/n: hey love! hope you like this angst-y piece ♥

Youwoke up from your ‘30 minutes’ nap at 10pm, so five hours later thanwhat you had planned, and were extremely groggy.

Whatwas supposed to be a power nap, turned into you feeling worse thanbefore.

Youhad gotten back from your mission in Africa only two days ago andwere still feeling the effects of both jetlag and the lack of sleepyou had got during those three months you were undercover.

Youslowly sat up in your bed, blinked a couple of times and then got upin what seemed like slow-motion.

Youneeded water. Or maybe milk. Or tea.

Anything,pretty much. You just needed to hydrate yourself.

Youdidn’t even bother to put on anything else. You were still wearingyour tight black leggings, your fluffy socks and your sweatshirt,that was a little too big for you, but super comfy and still smelled like a certain someone.

Beingcomfortable enough with the other Avengers at this point, you madeyour way over to the kitchen without changing.

Orat least, you wanted to.

Youdidn’t get very far.

Youfound Bruce lying in front of the door to his room, seeminglyunconscious, so you quickly ran over to him, turned him around and,indeed, he was unconscious.

“Bruce!Can you hear me?” you softly patted his cheek, but didn’t get a reaction, “Fucking hell, Bruce,” you grabbed the phone out of hispocket and dialed medical, who were there only moments later.

Whenthey rushed him to the hospital complex in the Avengers compound, youstayed by his side. You ran after them and answered all the questionsthe doctors had for you, even if you could barely give them any..after all, you had only gotten back recently and had arrived only a few minutes prior to them.

They told you to wait outside, performing whatever needed to be done. From the looks of it, he had been starving himself again. He was much skinnier than the last time you had seen him. It was always the same thing with him.. you just wished you could do more than just listen to him talk about his problems. You wanted to help. Really help.

Itwas an hour later when the nurse finally let you go inside.

You immediately sat down on the bed and took his hand, softly brushing over the backof it.

“Youscared the hell out of me, you know?” you whispered, afraid hemight hear you, “I leave you alone for three months and that’s whatI come back to..”

Yourother hand brushed some strands of hair out of his face.

Youand Bruce had often talked about his.. other side. Everyone knew thathe hated it.. that he wanted the Hulk to be gone, but only a fewselected people knew how bad it really was.

“Iwant to help, Bruce. I really do, but.. I don’t know how. I feel likeevery time you and I talk and I think you’re getting better, yourelapse. And I’m so scared that.. there’s going to be a day whereyou’ll succeed, if you don’t stop. I’m so scared that you’ll justbe.. gone, one day.”

Tearsstarted to glisten in your eyes.

“Idon’t want to lose you. I don’t think I can..”

Youkissed his knuckles, then leaned your forehead against them.

“BecauseI.. I think I’m in love with you,” and with that, you let the tearsbegin to flow freely.

Thethought of losing him broke your heart. You wanted to help him getthrough this. Maybe even find a cure if there was one, but you didn’twant him to succeed in killing himself. You didn’t want to imaginehaving to lower him into the ground and being left alone in this uglyworld.

Youlooked up again when you could feel his fingers wrap around your hand, you quickly wiped away the tears with your other hand.

He looked at you like he had been up for a bit.. like he had..-

“I’msorry,” he whispered, his fingers gently rubbing over the skin ofyour hand.

“Bruce,I..-”

“I’m truly sorry,” he smiledsadly, “You deserve someone better. Someone who doesn’t turn into agreen monster that kills everything in its’ way. Someone who doesn’t try to kill himself every second week.”

Youcupped his cheek and looked him directly in the eyes.

“Idecide who I deserve. And you are more than what I deserve. I loveyou, Bruce, just the way you are. And nothing is ever going to changethat, even though you might wish it would. I will stay by your sideand we will get through this. Together. You and I, like it’s been forthe past years.”

Heblinked a couple of times, his voice on the verge of breaking when hesaid: “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Thenstop trying to kill yourself. Because if you were to succeed one day?That would break me.”

Guiltrushed through him and he quickly turned his head, so you wouldn’tsee the lonely tear that rolled out of his eye.

Howstupid had he been? All he had thought about was himself. But heshould have been thinking about what would have happened to you.

Howyou would have wept for him if he had succeeded. How you would haveblamed yourself for the rest of your life. He would have ruined you.

Andhe wouldn’t let that happen.

No.You were right. You would get through this.

Together.

[imaginemycroftholmes]

Mycroft trying to find a suitable pet for Sherlock after John left when he got married?

“You lied to me. You said it was a level five case.”

Mycroft sighs heavily as he holds the door open expectantly for his younger brother.

“We both know that you wouldn’t have left the house for anything less than a case after Dr. Watson’s nuptials so the deceit was necessary,” says as he gestures toward the door with his head for him to enter.

When he doesn’t Mycroft adds, “and if anything this should speak volumes of how you’ve let your mind grow soft whilst the good doctor is miles away in the tropics on his honeymoon for you not to deduce it.”  

At this Sherlock does look pained but finally enters the establishment with a huff turning up his collar as if to block out the sound of animals filling the air with their noise.

As Mycroft enters in behind him he watches Sherlock not so subtly eye his surroundings.

It didn’t take constant CCTV surveillance to know that with John married and out of Baker Street that Sherlock was starved for companionship. Barely leaving the flat for anything even when Greg had offered his best cold cases or when Miss Hooper had even tried to entice him with a human cadaver to experiment with.

Mrs. Hudson had already forgone trying to cheer his brother up after Sherlock said some rather inconsiderate things about her and her relations with the owner of Speedy’s below them and went to visit her sister in Florida for a spell.

Although if he were honest Mycroft was hoping that Miss Hooper would take this opportunity to get closer to Sherlock and perhaps have their own happy announcement before the year’s end but like most important things, love, cannot be rushed.

Not even Sherlock could try and protest that he needed no one as his conversations with Billy the skull became more self-loathing and dark that something had to be done lest he dive back into old habits.

So it was up to him (like always) to find someone that could give Sherlock what he needed and in turn give a pet something that they needed-a home.

Sherlock however seems to be more opposed to the idea as he scans the environment to see cats, dogs, rodents, reptiles and the like lined up on the shelves as if they were consumable products.

Obviously there was a palpable distaste from Sherlock for the way the animals were presented like disposal toys but Mycroft could not wait to blow this first impression out of the water entirely.

It didn’t take long for an associate to find them. Petite, fit and bubbly with her light brown hair in a long ponytail she greeted them, “Hi my name is Tammy welcome to Happy Tails! How can I help you today?”

“You could help me by aiding my escape of this dreadful place as I hardly want to do any business with a place that treats its animals like products at a local Tesco,” Sherlock says disdainfully. The look on his face was comparable to looking at Anderson and his tone far more severe as he looks down at the Happy Tails associate just standing there looking like he just paid her a compliment.

Giggling Tammy gives Sherlock some finger guns before saying, “Nice one Mr. Holmes. You almost got me!”

Sherlock of course looks befuddled by the action and looks expectantly at Mycroft for clarification when Tammy fails to provide one.

“Happy Tails is hardly a pet shop,” Mycroft explains, “It happens to be one the best kennels in all of London complete with a rigorous adoption policy, outdoor park for the animals to roam, free flowing drinking fountains, holds fundraisers for other shelters and takes in and adopts out more pets than any other in all of Great Britain.”

“And we also have this HUGE aviary for our birds,” Tammy adds holding her arms out as wide as she can get them, “that we let them fly about when they want to stretch out their wings!”  

“Then why have the animals in cages at all,” Sherlock ponders allowed.

“Well, they’re only in there because they want to be in there,” Tammy replies. “You see not all animals want to play so we let them use the little display cages to have their own personal space when they need it. They can come and go as they please and can hold up to 4 occupants depending on size. We give them collars that will open the doors when in proximity and have fail safes to make sure that don’t get caught under them. Look, see?”

Looking to his left one of the cage display’s door opened to reveal a cat dragging in a kitten before turning around and bringing in another. Door kept open until the mother cat was finished with bringing in her litter and the door closed leaving the new mother to nurse in peace.

“The collars also provide us information on our animals health and if there are any scuffles between our happy campers,” Tammy explains as one of the mixed tea cup dogs stood up in his display case walked toward the back wall and exited.  

“That seems a bit excessive,” Sherlock says aloud.

“We don’t like to provide nothing but the best for our pets Mr. Holmes,” Tammy protests sternly, “if we treat our animals just like we would like to be treated because they’re not just pets-they’re going to be part of someone’s family.” Her whole tiny frame was overcome by the righteous demeanor that was awe-inspiring if not an indicator that Tammy would continue to educate them on what her company does for the animal community should no one put a stop to it.

“Yes, which is why I booked this appointment for today so we should get on shall we,” Mycroft interjects before Tammy could wax on about how dedicated her store was to the animals and have an animal for Sherlock before the end of the day.

“Ah, yes! Right this way sirs,” Tammy agrees taking them to the back of the store. Opening the door is like that of opening a small closet only to be greeted by a room the size of a basketball court.

All sorts of different animals, cats, dogs, ferrets, bunnies, rabbits, and hamsters running throughout the many tubes that lined the walls were a sight to be seen.

“Now this is the main room for our furry four legged friends,” Tammy explains before pointing to 3 other doors on each side, “the red room is where our reptiles reside, the yellow one leads to the aviary, and the blue one is our aquarium but I believe that on the phone you were more interested in a four legged friend correct?”

“That would be correct,” Mycroft confirms, “Now how do we go about picking out a pet?”

Tammy wags her finger playfully. “Oh no Mr. Holmes, you don’t pick the pet-the pet picks you,” she explains, “all Mr. Holmes needs to do is get on the floor and see which lucky camper wants to become his best friend for life.”

Turning to the wall cubicles below the hamster tubes Tammy starts to rummage before loading her arms with a few toys. “Here,” she instructs giving them to Sherlock, “you’ll need these to help you attract a friend and see if you’re compatible.”

Sherlock gingerly takes the toys as Tammy gestures to the floor. “Now go out there and mingle!”

It is a strange sight to see Sherlock standing out there so helpless with an armful of toys and the jitters of that of a transfer student that Mycroft takes it upon himself to help him once more.

Grabbing the feather fishing pole from the pile in his brother’s arm Mycroft begins to drag it on the floor until it attracts the interest of several cats and a ferret.

“See? Now you try,” Mycroft indicates to Sherlock as now he has an audience of four legged friends wanting his attention.

Sherlock looks skeptical before choosing a tennis ball out of the armful of toys and bounces it once, then twice. In no time at all six different types of mutts and a bunny were on the scene ready to play.

For more than four hours Mycroft spent entertaining his growing collection of cats that seemed to become more bold by the minute while Sherlock went around the room using different toys to see which furry creature would be the one for him.

It was only until Tammy came around asking reminding them that the store closed in the next thirty minutes and that they were welcome to come back again tomorrow if no one picked them today that Sherlock declared that he had his companion.

A littlle pug and boxer looking mix with a leg shorter than the other three followed behind Sherlock with a determined look in its eyes and a air of a seasoned warrior.

“Oh you picked out Eggsy,” Tammy exclaimed delightedly, “He’s one of the dogs we picked up from from an animal fighting sting and one of the most serious but loyal dogs we have here.”

Bending down to scratch behind the small dog’s ear she clarifies, “I mean, its not like the others aren’t but Eggsy takes it to an extreme. His regular feeder was sick for a week and the little guy refused to eat anything that wasn’t from his regular handler! we had to wheel Jafaun in and get him to feed Eggsy before he was liable to become underweight.”

“Well I will take no other so it will be one less animal for Jafuan to feed,” Sherlock declares, “Mycroft pay the woman so Eggsy and I can return home as this place is hardly one for intellectuals such as ourselves.”

Tammy looks over at Mycroft who is still engrossed by his furry fans. “Now will that be cash or check?”

“The money will be transferred immediately,” Mycroft assures her before pointing down to the white cat currently taking up space on his lap. “Now how much for this superb feline?”

“That’s our Delilah,” Tammy says with a grin, “One of our senior cats who just loves to sit with people and sleep the day away. She’s only 250 and has all her vaccinations up to date just like Eggsy.”

“Wonderful-” Mycroft starts to say before he could hear his car alarm going off and the sound of high pitched barking followed by the scream of “MYCROFT OPEN THE CAR OR I’LL BREAK INTO IT!”

“At least I have you for my sanity,” Mycroft tells Delilah the cat before gently picking her up like a small child and carrying her out to the car before Sherlock and his dog decided to do anything more drastic.

[askfrostmaster]

Loki Grandmaster is flirting again

[askqueerpark]

Kyle have you ever been actually sad and Cartman doesn't bother you

[sarcastictonystark]

I can’t believe actually getting engaged to someone doesn’t even stop this stuff.

[detectivecdeckerarchive]

☎

NAME: Peach

RINGTONE: Mario Theme Song - set by Lucifer, Chloe still doesn’t know

PICTURE:

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: “What time is lunch again?”

LAST TEXT SENT:“23 West Kayal Street 11PM for lunch, Lucifer has a sweet tooth.”

[deviliishly]

"You have a nice voice," (for Lucifer please)

Send me “You have a nice voice” to have my muse sing or hum in front of yours.

Lucifer grinned as he finished out his song he was singing and shut the piano before moving closer to her. “I’ve been told that once or twice but thank you.” He lifted his glass of whiskey and brought it to his lips, sipping on it before setting it back down. “Glad you enjoyed it but I must ask, why are you here?”

[timetospy]

Ok can I request that James finds a box full of kittens on one of his missions and against his judgment, he took them home. Q finds out when he hears meowing coming from James' coat pocket.

Oh my god, I’m so sorry this took so long to finish! I know you’ve been waiting!

And so, without further ado, here is just about the fluffiest thing I’ve written in a really long time.

Bond flung himself around a corner and skidded to a stop, landing hard on his backside in the dust behind the building. He winced. The unforgiving Tunisian sun beat down, a sweltering 40 degrees, and he ran his forearm across his forehead.

Footsteps approached, and Bond crouched, ready to spring away, but they passed without looking down the narrow alley he’d ducked into. Bond relaxed against the wall. With no radio and no weapon, he was on his own to get back to London. But at least he had the thumb drive. Bond didn’t pretend to know what all Q was going to do with the information Bond had collected, but he had collected it, so perhaps the third missing Walther wouldn’t sting so much.

He sat there for a few more minutes, catching his breath, then picked himself up, tugged his cuffs into place, and walked towards the other end of the alleyway. Halfway down, he heard something soft and desperate coming from a cardboard box shoved unceremoniously between two skips.

For a minute, Bond was afraid of what it might be. Of the creature that was calling, with its last breath, for help. Bond steeled himself for whatever was inside, being unable to leave anything helpless that way for long.

He flipped open the box, and deflated. Inside were three scrawny tabby kittens. They weren’t in good shape. They looked up at him with big, anxious eyes, and Bond, grumbling all the while, lifted them into his coat. He couldn’t very well leave them to their fate now that he’d been dramatic about it.

He acquired a bottle of water from a street vendor a few blocks away and ducked into another alley to pour the water into an old takeaway container for the kittens to drink from. If they’d survived in an alley this long, they weren’t going to snub their nose at a makeshift water bowl, unlike the prissy monsters Q considered pets. Bond shuddered just remembering the last time Q had brought the beasties into Q-branch. Repellent.

The kittens purred as they drank, and the next order of business was to find some kind of food. Bond shook his head. He really shouldn’t be wasting time with the cats. He should be finding a plane home. But, as he rose to walk away, the largest of them toddled after him on unsteady legs and meowed at his heels.

“Oh, alright,” Bond said, sighing.

***

Q glanced up as Bond loomed over his worktable, cradling his left arm against his stomach—likely favoring an injury that he was too stubborn to go to Medical about.

“You ought to get that looked at,” Q said, nodding at the arm. Uselessly, he knew, but he felt responsible for his agents’ wellbeing regardless.

“Hm?” Bond frowned, then glanced down at his arm. “Oh, yes. Appointment tomorrow afternoon.”

Q blinked, not quite believing his ears.“Really?” This would truly be a first, and Q had the impulse to write down the date and frame it.

“Of course. I’m not completely irresponsible. Speaking of which, here’s your intel.” Bond pulled a flash drive from his pocket and tossed it at Q. And as Q caught it, he noticed something under Bond’s jacket, above his arm, shift in an impossible way given human anatomy.

“What’s that?”

Just as the words left his mouth, a small furry ear poked out from behind Bond’s lapel, followed by another, and then an entire kitten head was sticking out of Bond’s jacket blinking at Q.

“That’s Mustard,” Bond said, his eyes uncharacteristically soft. Then another head popped up next to Mustard. “This is Pickle.” And a third. “And here’s Horseradish.”

Q stared at the kittens. The kittens stared back. Then Pickle let out the tiniest mew, and Q had to fight to keep himself from smiling.

“You’re taking them to the vet tomorrow,” Q said as everything fell into place. Bond’s arm wasn’t injured, he’d been holding the kittens.

“Yes. What did you think I meant?”

“You’d be insulted if you knew,” Q mumbled, and then, more brightly, he asked, “Who’s going to watch them when you’re away?” Q wasn’t hoping, but he kind of was, that possibly Bond would ask him. It had been so long since Peanut and Jelly had been kittens. While he loved the calm routine of their lives now, he missed the curiosity and rambunctious energy of kittens.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” Bond said, as Horseradish climbed his shirt. Bond plucked the kitten off and perched it on his shoulder. “And I think Bill would like it.” Q tried not to deflate too obviously. “He’s always going on about how much the kids want pets, and having them look after these beasties while I’m away is good practice.”

“Oh, of course.” Q kept his tone neutral, but the disappointment was visceral.

Bond stopped scratching Mustard’s head and peered at Q for a moment, then chuckled.

“Did you think that because you have two of the vainest, most aloof animals I’ve ever laid eyes on that I would let you look after these three?”

“They’re not—”

“Q, you are many things, please don’t add ‘foolishly sentimental’ to that list. You know as well as I do that you spoil those monsters.”

He was right, but Q wasn’t going to let him get away with it.“They are not monsters,” he said primly, and turned away. He fiddled with the flash drive for a bit, then began the preliminary scans of its contents.

Bond merely laughed as he walked back out of the branch, Horseradish still clinging to his shoulder.

Q rolled his eyes. Bond’s...Condiments wouldn’t go too long without being spoiled themselves. And then he got to thinking about the logistics of Bill and family actually caring for these kittens. Q couldn’t wait to hear all about how they’d destroyed the curtains and climbed into the warming cupboard. He’d give it three days, and Bill would be knocking on his door, begging him to take the Condiments off his hands.

Bond may have gotten the last word today, but Q would get the last laugh.

[sorrowful--owl]

Do you know My Bloody Valentine?

I do not! haven’t heard them before dfsdfgsd

[brucebanneraskblog]

Bruce I uh got you this. *gives him a present*

You got me a present? Wow, thank you! You are really sweet.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Hey can I have a preference of The male characters of Teen Wolf finding child reader all alone please

So I’m not going to do a preference for this but do this as a headcanon cause I imagine all of them having the same reaction:

Which would probably be to phone either Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa or take the child straight to the police station. Most of the guys are teenagers, but even still they’d be very much aware that a lost child really needs to go to the police so they can let people know that’s where the kid is. xx

[ajokeformur-ray]

Can you please do one where the reader is a baby who get abandoned by her mother and Will Graham finds her and treats her like she was made of glass. Then after a couple of days Hannibal comes over to *manipulate Will to join him* when he sees Will on his porch swing swinging with a little bundle in his arm rocking her to sleep. If you ship it maybe Hannigram moment?

I just want to give a gigantic shoutout to the 100+ wonderful Fannibals who reblogged, liked and commented on my post about needing Hannigram writing tips. You were all incredibly helpful. I’ve done what I can to take on every piece of advice I was given, and hope that I can do this beautiful dynamic justice!

Also, apologies for obvious inaccuracies in what babies are like - I relied on my mum’s memory of me to help xD and she also helped me with the Hannigram moments… she knows their dynamic better than I do and she’s never seen the show!

It was with a mixture of disbelief and utter seriousness that Will found himself pulling apart stems and leaves to find a child younger than the age of two nestled in a nearby bush. He had been alerted to her presence by her cries and he had followed the sound.

Ignoring the thorns and insects, Will pulled her into his chest, pulling his old fishing jacket around her in an attempt to warm her up. There was no telling how long she had been there, but he knew that he needed to take care of her and get her comfortable before he looked into alerting someone with more authority than he.

Just like he did with every new dog that joined the Graham family, he took the child, now making a series of gurgles and coos, to the bathroom. The bath water was cold to his liking but it was warm enough that it would get the job done. He washed her carefully, checking her over for cuts, bruises and any other signs of abuse as he went. He murmured quietly to her, talking about his day and wondering aloud where she came from and why she ended up in a bush just outside his residence. She didn’t cry, though Will wasn’t complaining.

He didn’t have any clothes that would fit her, so Will took an old, ratty shirt and cut it down to her size after he’d towelled her off carefully and picked up his phone, dialling Hannibal’s number without thinking it through.

Hannibal picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

Will forgot how to speak for a second and when Hannibal repeated himself, a trace of worry in his voice, Will came back to himself just enough to convey something to Hannibal. “Hannibal. There’s a - I found a child, she - I don’t know what…”

Going against his own instincts, Hannibal cut across Will with a curt, “Don’t make any rash decisions, Will. I’ll be there presently.” and hung up, leaving Will frozen in the same position. Despite his earlier calmness, Will was panicking. What was he going to do with a young child who had obviously been abandoned? He couldn’t look after one with the hours he worked. He could always phone Jack, but what would he say? The child would then go into the system and then who knows what would happen to her and where she’d end up.

Will was so far inside his own head that he’d somehow gotten himself halfway across the room and sat in his chair with Y/N cradled to his chest. He didn’t hear the knocks at the door, nor did he hear Hannibal let himself in, past the sea of eager dogs and into the kitchen.

Will was gazing at Y/N who was gazing back just as intently. Her dark curls were just like his own, and her tiny finger wrapped around one of his larger ones. It was a scene of unexpected paternal affection and Hannibal knew that Will was seeing himself in this abandoned child. Will himself hadn’t been abandoned, but his father had never known how to show his love to Will in the way that he wanted to, and so Will had grown up feeling as though his father didn’t care for him.

Hannibal quickly evaluated the situation and noted Y/N in a makeshift shirt, cut haphazardly. He knew that Will wouldn’t be prepared for such a thing. But his priority for the now was to pull Will outside of his head and find out where the toddler had come from. Will had an affinity for strays so Hannibal could guess that he’d found her somewhere and had been unable to ignore her. So, he’d scooped her up and brought her here, to his home. 

He made his way over to Will and the sound of his footsteps alerted Will to his presence. He looked up, somewhat dazed, and Hannibal smiled minutely. “You found her outside?”

Will nodded and passed a hand over his tired eyes. “Yeah, she, ah - she was in a bush, crying. I don’t have anything for her. I should call Jack, he can take it from here.”

Hannibal stood watching him a long moment. “I presume there is room in your house for another bed?”

Will nodded, coming back to himself now that his anchor was around. “Yeah, there’s space in my bedroom.”

“I see. Excuse me.” He turned and walked out, leaving Will to wonder what he was supposed to do now. The door shut quietly and Will looked down at the child in his arms. 

Feeling like he needed some normalcy, Will went into the living room and approached his dogs carefully, getting onto his knees and letting the dogs approach him and Y/N. He clicked his tongue when they got too enthusiastic or close, and eventually, the dogs settled enough to sniff Y/N one by one. When they were laying down, Will pulled some treats from the pockets of his fisherman’s jacket and handed them out, petting each dog and cooing over them in turn. Lost in his pack, Will once again was deaf to the sound of the door opening and closing, this time with a greater time lapse between one action and the other.

Will looked up to see Hannibal laden with bags with designer labels he’d never even heard of, but the man in question looked pleased with himself. Obviously, he’d been busy shopping.

“What -?” Will shook his head. “It’s for Y/N, isn’t it? What about Jack?”

Hannibal shook his head. “I already spoke with Jack. There have been no reports of abandoned children matching her description. For now, she has a home here.”

“What is all this?”

“Clothes. Food. Equipment to house her safely. This house isn’t child-friendly.”

Will could feel his control slipping again, his hand automatically reaching out to Winston, who was whining softly.

“If you could see to the unpacking Will, I’ll see to the dinner preparations.” Hannibal set the multitude of bags down, just outside the dogs’ reach and made his way to the kitchen, already comfortable with where Will had everything. As Will begrudgingly got to work, his hand closed around a thick sheath of papers. He pulled out the laminated sheets and glanced over the first page.

Three words immediately jumped out at him:

Joint Adoption Forms.

Hope this is in character.... :/ 

[imaginemycroftholmes]

Mycroft bonding with a teen who got pregnant by an ex who left after he found out?

It was a rarity for Mycroft to find Baker Street emptyconsidering what a homebody Sherlock could be and how reluctant John was to letRosie explore the world outside the dark paneled door but to find it with aclient alone in it no less without Baker Street’s key inhabitants even more so.

He paused at the door frame trying to gauge if he shouldstay or leave when the young girl hears the creak of his patented leather shoeson the soiled floorboard that his decision was made for him.

“Are you Mister Holmes,” she asks timidly from her seat onSherlock’s couch. Clothes baggy, eyes puffy, face peaky, and constantlycradling her stomach suspiciously told him all he needed to know about her.

Taking a moment to consider if he should intervene on hisbrother’s behalf or just leave her for Sherlock to take care of Mycroft settledon the former as if Sherlock was not at Baker Street at this hour surely he wasin the companion of Miss Hooper.

“That I am,” he replies swiftly as he closes the door behindhim and then walks over to his usual haunt, John’s chair, “Now how may I be ofservice?”

Her slouch straightens slightly as if she’s unsure ifstomach should be allowed not to be covered lest some unforeseen attack comeout of nowhere and takes a deep calming breath. “I need your help findingsomeone,” she says softly as she mindless fiddles with her middle.

“Am I safe to assume that you hope that I may locate thechild’s father,” Mycroft asks watching as her eyes go from fond to distraughtas her hand travels across her lower belly.

The young girl looks shocked at the question. “How did youknow?”

It is a Herculean effort not to roll his eyes at how obviousthis scenario but Mycroft manages to remain professional if not for his sakebut the image of his brother.

“I am not called the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’ fornothing,” Mycroft states with one of his political smiles meant to charm thewives of potential business partners and set the minds of enemies with a falsesense of ease. “Now tell me when was the last time you recall seeing yourboyfriend missus…?”

“Petunia,” she adds while she shifts on the couch to find abetter position where her butt didn’t sink into the crease. “Petunia Evans, andI last saw my boyfriend Trevor Battle last week at his place down in thePennington flats when I told him I was pregnant.”

“And what was his reaction to the news?”

Petunia’s eyes become misty and face red as her voice startsto waver,” He was upset and he shouldn’t have been because this is our baby!”She then let’s out a wail after this and Mycroft is beside himself on how tocomfort this strange young girl other than to try and resume his questioning.

“Petunia how old are you?”

The question doesn’t stop the tears but it does cause theyoung girl to choke down a sob enough to say, “15.”

“And how old is mister Battle?”

“He turned 22 in December,” Petunia answers solemnly. Hereyes still glazed from both crying and remembrance.

Mycroft wanted nothing more to condemn the man but somethingtold him that there was more to this than a man dating and impregnating anunderage girl.

“How did you two meet?”

“We were neighbors back when he still lived with hisparents-Trevor was always so nice to me and I had the worst crush on him,”Petunia says between sniffles, “It took me ages to get Trevor to agree to dateme because he said he only saw me like a little sister and even more convincingto have him lie with me.”

“So you’re saying that you are the instigator of thisrelationship?”

Petunia sits up a bit more stiffly. “Yes, I am. I was tiredof Trevor ignoring me as a woman when I’ve been in love with him since I was 5.You just can’t ignore a woman’s feelings just because of something so triviallike age! So I asked him almost every day to date me wherever he went and evenfound his Facebook to ask him their publicly on his page and every otheraccount her has so everyone could see it until he said yes.”

Mycroft can already see where this is going but he knowsthat he has to continue the questioning if not to force this young mother tocomprehend what she’s done.

“So you twisted Mr. Battle’s arm into dating you,” Mycroftasks curiously.

“No, I just kept asking him in front of our families andfriends until Trevor caved in to the fact of the matter,” Petunia boasted,“after all I knew we were meant to be!”

At this point Mycroft is almost 100% positive that if he hadleft this matter to Sherlock he would have had Petunia verbally skewered forher harassment of the poor man but was determined to help this naive child outlest she become one of the numbered homeless on the streets of London.

“Didn’t your parents have anything to say about yourrelationship?”

“Of course, Trevor’s a great guy! He has scholarships to theuni that he’s been wanting to go to his whole life, a promising sports careerif he keeps up his grades, and so good looking! I couldn’t ask for more for ina future husband and father! My parents are over the moon about it but hisparents are kind of funny about it.”

Petunia’s face scrunches in such a way that shows a deepconfusion on why the parents of the unwilling boy she has been advancing onmight not be too keen on her.

Forging pinching the bridge of his nose Mycroft closes hiseyes slowly and counts to three before asking, “Did you ever discuss thingslike marriage with Mr. Battle or did you just decide this for yourself as youdid at the beginning of this relationship?” Mycroft shudders to even call this a relationship but coercion.

Her face turns an ugly red as she retorts sternly, “I didn’tforce anything on Trevor! He dated me willingly-“

“After you posted it publicly on his internet accounts andused social basis toward your gender in public places to publicly shame himinto accepting you, which is hardly what I call willingly wouldn’t you,”Mycroft counters.

The shade of red is slowly turning purple as Petunia spewsout her verbal garbage, “I only did it for love because I love him and he lovesme! I know he does! He even said so when I was 5 when I drew him a picture forhis eighth birthday! He said he would marry me and now he’s going off with thatTurner girl instead while leaving me alone and pregnant! He’s not the victim-Iam! He lied to me! He used me! We were meant to be! I’m his true love and notthat skinny slut! She’s hardly a women anyway and Trevor could never be satisfiedby that bag of bones unlike a real woman like me! He just doesn’t understandthe mistake he’s making! That’s why I had to lie to him about being on the pilland poke holes in his condoms! Trevor just doesn’t understand that he doesn’tneed to have that scholarship and education when he has me! He doesn’t needanyone else but me and yet he’s…he’s…”

Losing volume to the sound of her own tears Petunia stopsher tirade of hate in favor of a good sob while Mycroft calculates on the bestmove forward.

Obviously this young girl is suffering from some sort ofmental disconnect that has caused her to stalk and harass this Trevor Battlewell into not only a faux relationship and the hoodwinked him into believingher word that the sex would at least be protected.

Mycroft could not imagine that Mr. Battle had intercoursewith Evans willingly without some sort of compromise if Evan’s behavior isanything to go by leaving both the unborn child and the young man in a veryhard place.

Decisions, decisions,decisions.

Finding that he had selected the correct course that wouldnot only be favorable to not only the baby and Mr. Battle but to Miss Evans aswell Mycroft sets out to begin the plan.

Sitting himself beside the whimpering Petunia he comfortsher gently. “There, there,” he says softly as she had just stopped crying longenough to wipe her face with her sleeve. The act was enough to cause Mycroft to cringe but he had a job to do.

Starting again and with Petunia’s attention Mycroft begins, “ListenI will help you locate this Trevor Battle but I’m afraid that will take sometime.”

Eyes growing wide Petunia begins to protest, “But I haven’tany time! The baby will be born in June!”

Biting the inside of his mouth Mycroft continues, “Of that Iam aware of my dear but of course Rome wasn’t built in a day and consideringthat you were unable to locate Mr. Battle yourself speaks volumes of the mannerin which the man is willing to avoid you. Therefore, despite my status as aworld famous detective I will need some time to evaluate what evidence I haveand move forward from there.”

“But I haven’t the time,” Petunia persisted, “My parents won’tlet me go home as an unwed mother and I can’t afford the rent without Trevor.”Again the eyes are starting to water once more and Mycroft could do withoutanother piercing wail from the girl.

“Then fear not,” he states quickly hoping to cut whatevercry to a minimum, “for I can cover the rent until Mr. Battle is found.”

Now Miss Evans seems to panic, “But I couldn’t possiblyaccept that free of charge when I can hardly pay you to find him.”

“Well, it is hardly without any strings attached,” Mycroftconcedes which causes Petunia’s nose to crinkle suspiciously. “For my servicesincluding the rent to be waived you will be obligated to attend some classesconcerning your obsession with Mr. Battle, confidence building seminars, atleast one therapist of my choosing and doctor appointments for the sake of thebaby. Hardly a difficult feat to accomplish considering that you dropped out ofyour school to be with Mr. Battle correct?”

There is a small sense of shame that finally finds its wayonto Petunia’s face as she acknowledges stopping her studies.

Scooting a bit closer Mycroft asks, “What was your favoritesubject?”

“Math. I was real good at it. I used to blow them away atcompetitions before Trevor came along and I started to use it for the wrongreasons. Like to figure out when and where he would be at all times and stuff.”

Honestly Mycroft was surprised to hear math was her favoritesubject almost as much as her using it effectively to hound a young man into anunwanted relationship. “Can you tell me more?”

While waiting for a car to pick Petunia Evans up to returnher to her apartment the two spent the time talking and learning about how ithad come to this.

Mycroft can attest that he is certainly no licensedtherapist but is certain that given a few months’ time Evans can work throughher emotional issues while owning up to her manipulative tendencies before heactual alerts young Battle of his impending fatherhood to discuss legalities ofthe child’s birth.

As he waves her off in the car Mycroft nearly jumps out ofhis skin when he hears a door from upstairs creek open slowly with a very whispery,“Is she finally gone.”

[askfrostmaster]

Alright who stole my basket of lube, cakes and my chocolate chip gooey cookies?