bakerstreet | ( picture prompt meme )

[ It's something he gets into in college.

His scholarship had meant that he didn't need to work three jobs just to keep himself afloat and the one he did get was in a bookstore just off campus. So while it involved a lot of shelving, that was about it. Somehow Adam Parrish's life quickly became sedentary. And at first he hadn't really noticed anything, in between classes and homework and the occasional shift, but then the sluggishness set in, the slight softness around his hips. He'd been getting lazy.

He'd kind of thought about trying the campus gym, but a brightly coloured flyer on one of the boards had caught his attention as he passed. Adam had never considered himself a group kind of person, but during the first week he'd signed up for a few. He still goes to the LGBT meetings, though the weird wiccan club that just seemed to involve smoking strange shit fell to the wayside pretty quick. The flyer was very bright though, and one of his only fond childhood memories had been going to a friend's trailer on Saturday mornings to watch the bright coloured cartoons and look over her playing cards.

Part of him had been determined to keep the whole Pokémon Go thing to himself. He rarely played it in Virginia, mostly because Ronan kept him pretty busy when he was there. But today's one of those days where he's waiting for a lift back to the Barns after his boyfriend's finished with his solicitor. He hadn't brought a book. So maybe he spent a good twenty minutes sniping the Henrietta gyms from under everyone's feet, but then something had come up on his radar and Adam had found himself chasing an Abra around the block. ]

Motherfucker, stop teleporting.

[Ronan, being a responsible landowner and parent, did not have any such knowledge - that and he avoids his phone except where Adam is concerned. So when he gets out of the office, he's a little surprised to see not Adam, because he had left him right there.

He starts around the corner just as Adam is swearing at his phone.]

What are you doing?

Shh.

[ He's aware he's outing himself somehow, but he's just found another Abra and really, that is far more important. Adam takes another step down the street, trading in Razzberries as fast as he can for fear that he'll get another one that fucking runs off. ]

I need to catch this so my walking group thinks I'm fucking awesome.

[ Does he have a great ball??? ]

You just said a bunch of words but they didn't make any fucking sense.

[He stares at Adam's phone, and then at Adam, and finally comes close enough to look over his shoulder.]

What the fuck is that?

[That is an Abra that is currently menacing Adam as he tries to catch it.]

Abra.

[ He flings a Pokéball and it fires it back, meaning Adam swears a little under his breath. ]

Nobody in New Haven has managed to catch one yet and if I can just --. [ Another ball and the Abra does that annoying fucking thing where it just teleports itself away. Adam makes an annoyed noise and then goes back to the tracking screen. There are like six pidgeys. He's going to kick something. ]

We need to go around the block again.

[He just stares at Adam, perplexed.]

Jesus Christ, Parrish, are you playing a cell phone game?

[He suddenly remembers something about Henry and Blue and Gansey talking about this, because apparently travelling the country is good for-]

The Pokemon one?

[Hey he might not have really watched much TV as a kid but he wasn't raised under a rock.]

[ The tips of his ears are burning. ]

I needed an activity.

[ He starts walking, knowing Ronan will come with him. ] I only have like 30 Pokémon because I don't go out as much as the others. [ He doesn't ignore his studying in favour of this. He just plays when he's got nothing better to do.

Or like now, when he really needs that fucking Abra. ]

You couldn't have picked something less nerdy?

[But he follows because he's a good boyfriend. However, he's also thinking about how Adam's thighs have the definition that he had when he was in high school and he biked everywhere back, and that his freshmen ten dropped back down to the weight he was in senior year when he finally started eating enough.]

Like, I don't know, you could have taken up anything else.

[He's mostly just being a jerk to be a jerk but he and Adam are genuine with each other.]

I could have.

[ He glances up, ignoring the Rattatas that pop up on his screen in favour of offering Ronan the sweetest of smiles. ]

I liked the cartoon, but I couldn't afford the cards. [ This is his way of making up for that. ] Half the LGBT group joined the Pokéwalk one and I just thought why not? [ He looks back down at the screen again, taking the net corner. ] If I don't find it again we can head back.

This is what the Yale endowment is paying for?

[He's smirking just a bit, but he keeps trailing him.]

No wonder conservatives hate you, gay, cartoon-watching leaders of tomorrow.

[ Adam laughs and then freezes, catching the Abra on his radar again. It's easy to turn and take the few steps backwards, frantically pressing on it as the screen flares to life.

This time he tries Razzberry before he even attempts the Pokéball, holding his breath. ]

Fuckin' yeah.

[ He's not going to brag too much, but he does step closer to Ronan to show him. ]

[He watches this and when Ronan shows him he pokes at it.

It does it's little animation.]

So what does this one do?

Sleep, mostly.

[ He leans his shoulder against Ronan's, saving the Pokémon and then adding it as his buddy. ] It's psychic, apparently that means it has to sleep eighteen hours a day. Mostly it teleports away from danger. But it's one of the most difficult to catch.

[ And now he has it. ]

I'd show Opal but I don't know if she'd be okay with a cell phone.

She chewed Declan's.

[Said with a proud note in his voice. He takes Adam's phone and fiddles a little, figuring out the renaming thing, then hands it back.

Abra is now named Parrish.]

I wish I could sleep eighteen hours.

[ Satisfied, he closes the app and then reaches for Ronan's hand, folding their fingers together. ]

How did your meeting go?

Do you want me to let you? Tomorrow you sleep until I finish all the shit I have to do. Then you can't walk around and get your nerd disease all over my farm.

[He means it, he won't wake Adam up.

But he knows, too, that Adam wants to spend time with him. It's a luxury they don't have much of right now.]

Congratulations, egghead, you're now Opal's new legal guardian.

[He thrusts a piece of paper into Adam's hand.]

Done with all the actual legalities of not being a fucking dream.

[Surprise.]

[ Ronan's right, Adam will wake up the same time his boyfriend does, he'll follow him around on his errands and help with the farm and with Opal because it's the only time they have and he doesn't want to sleep it away.

Maybe after college.

But he isn't thinking about that now. Instead he's taking the piece of paper and staring at it, an unnameable feeling in his chest. Every step they take to becoming more real is a step that steals his breath and for a moment he cant catch it.

But then he's pulling Ronan in by his blazer jacket, crashing their mouths together in a way that the Henriettan populace would probably frown at. Fuck them. This is his. ] Did you tell her you were going to?

[They kiss there, in the middle of the street, and it's the calm in a storm, it's a perfect moment. If people see they don't say a word. If people see Ronan doesn't care. He just kisses Adam back, because that's what you do.]

I asked her who she wanted and she said you.

[He takes Adam's hand again, like it's a tether to the planet.]

You can't get her a phone though, she'll drive me crazy with that fucking game if she knew about it.

[Honestly she probably wouldn't understand the game but Ronan is trying to not look at the fact that Adam might possibly be tearing up.]

[ Even his breathing is shaky, like his emotion is pushing at his lungs and heart. But he's happy, it's the kind of overwhelmed that leaves him feeling raw, but good. ]

She gave me her favourite chewable flower this morning. I just thought she was being, you know, Opal.

[ It's a mass in Adam's pocket. Christ, he loves her. ]

You could dream her one? Not a cell phone but just something she can play the app on. I'll let her know it's our thing and she can only bug us when I'm back? [ Bonding with his daughter, it doesn't sound bad. ] It'll keep her active and I can take her on my errands.

[He considers that.]

You give it to her.

[He grips Adam's hand, like he knows. Like he knows Adam needs someone to hold onto him or he'll float away.]

Fuck, Parrish. Even if we don't-

[He pauses. Even if we don't make it, he wants to say, she's yours.]

We will.

[ He knows what Ronan's thinking and it's bullshit. Because of course they will. They've come too far to be anything but this for the rest of their lives. ]

C'mon, let's go home. [ And then, to break the tension. ] Now my dirty secret's out I want to know what I can catch at the Barns.

Jesus Mary you're such a fucking nerd.

[But he holds Adam's hand and walks him back to the car anyway.]

You knew that when we met, Lynch.

[ And somehow, Adam's magic worked on him anyway. It's a little strange to think of how far they've come, if he's honest. ]

[ Art has always been her escape.

Clary had been drawing since she was a child, since the very first hint of strain had hit her parents' marriage and her mom had to ply her with paper and pencils to keep her from asking too many questions. The divorce had been messy, but her creativity had flourished. She liked drawing, no matter what was going on in the world. And it didn't fade after they moved to the city proper, it continued to grow through high school, and restraining orders, and being flower girl when Joceyln had punctuated just how done she was with Valentine by marrying her childhood best friend. Clary had designed the invitations, painstakingly sketching flowers along the edges of thick card with the kind of rush that came from making something that would last. Art was the backbone with which she moved, it was everything she loved and cared about, it was going to be the thing that took her places.

Until it betrayed her.

The museum had always been a peaceful place to practise. She could use the statues to work out figures, she could search the oil paintings for inspiration, she could let her mind wander around the installations. The bar that opened across from it hadn't bothered her when she'd heard of it, but she'd used the protest flyer for a paper maché project that took up most of her Halloween last year. Nowadays she wished she had joined the geeky looking professors on their picket line. Because if the bar hadn't opened, then the boy wouldn't have arrived to work in it, and Clary would have never caught a glimpse of him from the second floor window as she sat on the bench with the best light. His name is Jace, she's heard it called many times by the pretty looking siblings that drop him off every afternoon. His name is Jace and he has such a beautiful face that it leaves Clary's pencil clumsy and awkward in her hands. No matter how hard she tries she just can't get it right.

It's another day, another failed attempt at catching his eyes. Clary's tired and far more wound up than she thought by the rumour of her father in the city. Part of her is tempted to call Simon and she has her cell phone out as she descends the museum steps, sketchbook tucked under her arm. But then someone shouts from the door of the Institute and without thinking she's crossing the road to go in. Maybe they'll be fooled by her fake I.D., maybe they won't. But she doesn't want to go home right now, and besides, she hadn't seen Jace today which means he's probably not working and she won't have to fall over herself to escape.

Which is of course exactly who she walks right into as she pushes through the door, dropping everything she'd held in her arms as she grabs his to steady herself. He looks less real up close. ] Oh.

[ Oh no. ]

Edited (missing word omg) 2016-10-13 17:07 (UTC)

werewolf oc. gimme all your supernatural creatures of the night, yo.

✖ | ✖ | ✖

even had to make an album smh

I, II, III

How is it that it takes a thousand years and being shoved into a mortal body before Kol finally gets along with his brother the way he had always wanted? Of course, if he is completely self-aware, he would know that some of the fault lies with himself. Vampirism didn't go over well with him. Maybe this is who he was always supposed to be.

Meanwhile, they stand over a bloody streak on the ground. Someone has been leaving them behind all over New Orleans. A fun new enemy in town? How perfectly delightful. Once upon a time, that would've been Kol.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say this looks a lot like my own handiwork," he says with a smirk.

Klaus is standing beside the smear of blood, hands behind his back, momentarily convinced by the play of light on the colors of crimson and carmine. (His favorites.)

His smile is almost pleasant as he looks up at his brother, a near playful arch appearing on his brows.

"Any inside viewpoints you could provide on this, brother?" he asks as if Kol were a specialist studying blood patterns.

The fact that there is a murder spree happening makes him both irritated and frustrated at the same time. He would have better things to do. But of course they'll have to get to the bottom of it.

"Not specifically, no." It could easily be any number of enemies the Mikaelsons have made over the centuries. Who can keep track of them all? What Kol really means is, no one jumps out from the generous pool of possibilities. Alternatively, it might be some wholly unconnected terror, but that's unlikely. Given the well known presence of the Mikaelson clan in New Orleans, this is most likely a jab at them in some such manner.

He crouches beside the pool of blood and studies it.

"Seems a bit of a waste," he says. This kind of violence, it's not for a feeding. Someone wanted to leave a message.

"We always did know how to make friends, wherever we went."

"It's a business card," Klaus says with a sigh. If it had been created in a fit of uncontrollable pleasure or rage, the blood would be everywhere. He should know. But no, this is left behind almost like it were no matter to the person who created it.

They want the attention. It's what makes them tick.

Part of him is inclined not to give it. But then again, this is his city now and he should react.

"The thoughtfulness of it I suppose should be pleasing."

He reaches down to pat Kol's back. "Surely you could device a spell of some sort to follow the trail of blood? We should say hello."

He gives a brief snort.

"That's assuming our friendly new neighbor left us a sample of their own blood here. But I suppose I can track our unfortunate donor instead. If it's a trail they want us to follow, we might as well oblige." It might at least take them to the body's final resting place. A scavenger hunt, of sorts.

Kol takes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes off a smear of blood with it before folding it carefully and tucking it back in. He rises to his feet.

"Are you worried for the locals, Nik? Maybe you've gotten soft while I've been dead."

Edited 2016-10-24 15:55 (UTC)

"Please," Klaus gives a smirk that probably would make hair fall off from the heads of little children if any innocent enough would be at the receiving end. It does nothing on Kol of course. "This is New Orleans, to live here is to dance with the devil in the proverbial mooonlight."

He's already retracing his steps towards the car that's waiting for them at the end of the street.

"Let the games begin?" he says in an eerily cheery voice that has nothing to do with his current mood. Whoever dared to soil his city will pay for their idiotic crimes. That much is certain.

one, two, three, four, five

Tough night?

[Luke comments as he pours the blind lawyer another shot of vodka. He hasn't seen Matt Murdock at his bar before, but the guy's been here for awhile tonight, first with friends and now alone. It's late (or early) enough that there's almost no one else in the place save a couple lonely regulars.

Might as well chat with the guy who's still coherent.]

Your friends left awhile ago. Just curious, I guess.

[He glances at the door as a group of men enter the bar together, still leaning on the counter. They'll come over when they want something, so he doesn't have any reason to immediately drift away from the conversation he just started.]

[ Foggy and Karen were good enough company while they stayed, but this isn't Josie's and they were looking for something a little livelier. Things have been strained for a while; Matt was surprised they agreed to come at all, so he doesn't begrudge them for calling it an earlier night. He isn't great company anyway these days.

He doesn't know the bartender, but he has a pleasant voice and a quietly confident way of carrying himself. Matt has the suspicion that people don't cause much trouble here. ]

Tough year.

[ He's just been nursing a beer, slowly, since the others left. They'd gotten him to do a couple of tequila shots with them, but that was awhile ago and he's not really looking to get drunk. Just a little bit numb will do. ]

Yeah, I'm probably going to lose my 'friends night out' planning privileges for a while. [ He tilts his head toward the mostly-empty room, with a small smile. ] Too quiet.

Some people like a quieter atmosphere.

[And Luke is extremely careful about keeping the place nice and tidy. Letting people get rowdy won't really help much in that regard.]

So you're telling me this is the first and last time you're stopping by my place?

[He shakes his head while picking up a cloth and wiping down the counter. It's not the first time he's done it that hour either. A man has to work hard to maintain what's his; these things don't come easy or cheap.]

Just the first and last time I'll be bringing along friends.

[ Matt likes it. The place smells clean. Not bleachy hospital clean, but the right combination of hops and worn wood, a little soap and just enough of the city to keep it connected.

Loved. It smells loved. ]

It's a nice place. You've had it for a while.

[ Not a question. There's too much of this guy soaked into this place for either it or him to be new.

The little knot of men near the door have been duly noted, and Matt's idly keeping a weather ear out for them as he chats, mostly out of habit. He's not out as Daredevil, after all. ]

Ah.

[Of course, it's fine either way, but there's no harm in trying to keep new business around if he can.]

Thanks. This place means a lot to me.

[Because he opened it while his late wife was still around. She wouldn't want to see it fall into disrepair, just as she wouldn't want to see him break after her passing. In a way, keeping up the bar is a means to honor her memory in an outward manner.]

Anyway, if you need to get anything off your chest, I'm a good listener.

Pretty obvious it does.

[ That's what bartenders are supposed to do, right? Listen while their customers bemoan their troubles? Even if half his problems weren't related to being a vigilante, Matt's not sure he could open up that way. Foggy would certainly say he's incapable of it.

It's supposed to be easier to do it with a stranger, but Matt can't see dragging a stranger into that kind of shit either. ]

I appreciate the offer. But I wouldn't want to put you to sleep while your sign still says open.

[ Before he can say more, or get a response, the newcomers suddenly surge down the bar. Matt hears the sudden increase in heart rate from the whole group, just before their footsteps race toward him. Out of instinct, he whirls off his stool, putting it between him and the men before remembering that he's supposed to be just a lawyer.

Fuck. This is going to hurt. ]

I'm sure you're not that boring...

[Luke trails off as he sees the men who recently entered the bar rise to their feet. He narrows his eyes suspiciously, but before he can think to approach them they're hurrying toward the counter, the lawyer obviously in their sights.

Shit.

They get a few hits in before he manages to hop over the counter and grab one of the guys, tossing him across the room. He lands on a table, smashing it beneath his weight.

That catches the others' attention. Seeing a threat now, they turn their attention to Luke, something they'll soon regret. Any hit they manage to get in hurts them more than Luke, and then they end up with either broken limbs or fractures as they crash into the wall. He really, really hates to show off what he can do, but it's either that or let Matt get his ass kicked right in front of him. There isn't really a choice there with a group like this.]

[ Matt wants to insist that he is so boring, so incredibly dull that there's no reason for anyone to ever think twice about him or what he might do with his free time. But clearly he's not, because there are several angry men attempting to murder him in a bar in the middle of the night.

He doesn't take as many blows as he rightfully should. It's hard enough to force himself not to retaliate, let alone not even block them in self-defense. Maybe that's something he can pass off as just good sense for a blind man living alone in New York to learn, though.

After a few minutes, he realizes that the attack is no longer focused on him, and if what he's hearing (and sort-of-seeing) is correct, it's because of the man who owns the bar. He's a hell of a fighter, but more than that, he seems to just shrug off every punch and kick that lands. Matt's pretty sure he heard a chair shatter in there somewhere, even. It's impressive. ]

I, uh...shit, I'm sorry about that. Thanks.

[ He wipes a little blood off his cheek onto the cuff of his sleeve (shirt's ruined now anyway), realizing his glasses have been knocked somewhere. Hopefully not under anyone's feet. ]

Yeah, no problem.

[One of the men looks like he's about to try standing, but lies back down after catching a hard glare from Luke. Nope, they're not going anywhere until the cops arrive.

Once he's sure no one's getting back up yet, Luke grabs Matt's hand and helps him to his feet.]

The hell were these guys doing going after you?

[It's mostly a rhetorical question- he hears about lawyers getting beaten up or killed now and then by angry clients or friends of prisoners. He can only guess that's what happened here, and of course it had to happen in his bar.]

Here, sit down. I'm calling the cops.

[ Yep, the guy's as strong as his fighting style suggested. Matt comes to his feet easily, offering a rueful smile of gratitude for the help as he lets Luke direct him to a seat. ]

Can't really be sure until I find out who they are. But I could probably make a couple of educated guesses. [ He raises his chin in the direction of the guys sprawled on the floor. ] Whoever it is you're pissed off about, you realize you're not doing him any favors, right?

[ He can't see the silent snarl one of them shoots in his direction, but he doesn't need to. They're probably twice as angry now. Once they've been processed and released on bail (he'll press charges but there's no question that they'll be back on the street in a couple days), Daredevil will have to pay them a visit. Otherwise they'll be after Foggy next, and Matt can't let that happen. ]

Ask for Mahoney if you can get him. He's a good guy. [ The sting of broken skin calls his attention to the couple of places on his face where their punches landed. ] Got any ice?

Yeah, I will.

[Luke pulls out his cell phone and dials for the cops while going back behind the bar to grab some ice and stick it in a baggie. He hands that to Matt as he asks for Mahoney, and then gives his report on what happened.

The call doesn't last for long, especially when he mentions Murdock being attacked.]

They'll be here any minute. [Much to the 'joy' of those guys on the floor, he's sure, but Luke knows how it is too. That they'll probably be out again, and might come for him next time.

Bad idea if they try it.]

We'll give our statements, and, well. I'll be happy to walk you home after closing up. If you want.

[ Matt smiles when he's handed the bag of ice, slumping in his seat with a sigh as he listens to both ends of the conversation. At least he won't have to make up excuses as to why he's involved in a crime scene.

He'll have to be sure and add this place to his patrols for the next while. He owes Luke at least that much. ]

Yeah, I uh... I appreciate that. [ Actually he really doesn't want an escort home, but it would be too suspicious if he insisted. And he's not about to call Foggy or Karen.

The cops are there in record time, and Matt feels guilty pulling strings the way he did. But he's not the only one in danger from these guys. It doesn't take long to give their statements, either; Matt 'brags' some about getting a few good punches in, and mentions how incompetent they seemed. He has a hunch that Luke might prefer to avoid a lot of attention being brought to his fighting abilities.

Matt can't resist mentioning it, however, as he's pulling on his jacket after the police have cleared the scene. ]

Not that I could see much of what happened, but from the sounds of it you're a hell of a fighter. Boxer?

[Luke gives his statement as well, deciding to simply agree with everything Matt has said and downplaying the guy who broke through the table. Most people don't want to assume you're 'weird' like 'that,' so they don't question it too much.

The lawyer has something to say about it, however; much more justifiably since he'd been there during the whole thing. Luke's glad he can't see the way he frowns and doesn't meet his eyes when he answers.]

Yeah. Learned a bit when I was younger and then later on from a friend.

[It's not a lie, but he doesn't mention his police training and definitely has no intention of talking about the serious fighting ring he'd been forced into while in prison.

Putting on his jacket as well, he waits for Matt before leading him out the door.]

You think that stuff's all behind you, and then, well... [He shrugs, then sighs when he remembers that the guy can't see.] You get reminded.

Yeah? My dad was a fighter.

[ It's a way of finding common ground and explaining away his own fighting abilities, as limited as he hopes they appeared.

He uses his cane to navigate, just resting his hand on the back of Luke's elbow, since he doesn't know what the guy's personal bubble might be like. It's obvious he's not big on talking about himself; Matt wonders what 'stuff' he thought was safely in his past. He nods in understanding, though. There are things he'd once thought were buried in time, too. ]

Nothing ever really stays in the past. [ He pauses, thoughtful, hoping he's not making a mistake by pursuing the topic a little further. ] So, question for you: who do bartenders go to when they need to share their troubles with someone?

Mine was a preacher.

[But even giving that information doesn't seem to sit well for him. An ordinary person wouldn't be able to pick up on his increased heart rate just by dipping his toes into conversation related to himself and his past.

He does have to agree with Matt's comment, however, even if it makes him uneasy as well.] Guess not.

[Leading him isn't a problem for Luke, and no one gets in their way while he does. If anyone wanted to give Matt trouble on his way home, they're obvious seconding guessing that.]

A bartender's troubles aren't too interesting, usually.

[ Hopefully Luke won't take offense at the amused chuckle. Matt just finds it kind of funny, a deeply religious man like himself becoming the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and the son of a preacher becoming...well, whatever Luke is besides a bartender. Because that can't be the only type of work he's ever done. Not a man who can fight off a gang of vengeful thugs single-handed. ]

I want to say that neither are a lawyer's, but obviously that isn't true. And, I also don't believe you. Everybody's troubles are interesting in this city.

[ The streets are crowded at this hour, but it's well before last call and there are people out and about. It doesn't escape Matt's notice that they all give the pair of them a wide berth. ]

I should hire you as a bodyguard.

[Well, he'd be lying if he outright said his troubles aren't interesting, in a morbid sort of way.

He gives his own chuckle at the suggestion of being a bodyguard.]

If you want to spend more time with me, all you have to is ask.

[He knows it's a flirtatious comment, and has no way of knowing how that'll come off on someone like Matt. At the very least he might get another laugh out of him.]

Or come by my bar more often.