chronically-engaged

multimuse blog by spinda. low activity.

[chronically-engaged]

Rules - Muses - Interest Checker

follows back from @inspectorspinda

[crownmemes]

Detective Sentences, Vol. 35

(Sentences from various sources for detectives and/or muses that like to solve mysteries. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Am I under arrest?"

"You know why we've got this case, don't you?"

"It's a cover up! That's why the original team didn't get anywhere!"

"I understand that you need to ask these questions, but I do feel a little disappointed that you felt it necessary."

"If you're trying to scare me off, it's not working."

"I know you don't want to let this go, but there's nothing to investigate."

"Can you stop trying to take the blame? I'm in charge - it was my call."

"It takes a sinister mind to put something like this together."

"We don't get to see much beauty in our job, do we?"

"You think you've got away with it, but you're so wrong."

"He's not a suspect, and you are retired!"

"You do know that if you keep doing this job the way you've started, you're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble?"

"I don't know why this case had got under your skin, but I think you ought to take a step back. Take the night off."

"How the hell am I going to write this one up?"

"Who are you? You're not a cop. Cops travel in pairs."

"You're looking in the right direction, but you're making the wrong connections."

"If he wasn't murdered, why would anyone feel the need to cover up his death by smuggling him in here under a false name?"

"That looks nasty! Something from the forensics pathology lab?"

"There's a life at stake here!"

"Don't you think you're getting a little obsessive?"

"Is it just me, or is everyone involved with this case so far a bit of an arsehole?"

"Is this you trying to sound like a cop?"

"I don't care how much of a resident genius you are - I will not tolerate insubordination!"

"You solve everyone else's problems, but never your own."

"I don't think we're very popular with witness protection right now."

"What is it about policing and leaks to the press? It's outrageous!"

"No matter what you think of a suspect or what he might have done, the only thing that really matters is the evidence."

"You do realise I outrank you?"

"Do you ever have cases where the suspects are still alive?"

"Come with me quietly and you'll avoid considerable pain and embarrassment."

"There is more to life than chasing a higher rank."

[bubblyernie]

cal's extremely self indulgent top 3 detectives drawing. i have a niche, bro, i cant help myself. i love a clever man in a trench coat.

(Lt. Columbo, Ch Insp. Gamache and Ch Insp. Maigret, if anyone's curious. + their second in commands.)

art tag // commission info

[chronically-engaged]

reblog and bold your muses preferences.

roses / cherry blossoms / orchids / tulips

winter / summer / autumn / spring 

thunderstorms / sunshine / snow

indoors / outdoors 

meat / fruit / sweets 

extravagance / traditionalism / minimalism 

god fearing / non god fearing 

cats / dogs / horses / birds 

sunrise / sunset 

day time / night time 

fire / earth / water / wind

reading / writing

rising early / sleeping late

wine / ale / neither

fur / silk / satin / lace

rubies / pearls / sapphires

horse back / walking / carriages

love / power

having company / being alone

lakes / rivers / oceans

knife / sword / bow / poison

gold / silver

[kaisources]

. ݁⋆⁺₊✧ 🔪ཀཀ : BLOOD IS THICKER THAN ... roleplay crime sentence starters, based on CRIME FILMS. genre: mystery, thriller, crime, organized crimes. trigger warning: blood, murder.

What, with the police breathing down my neck?

That was round the back, wasn't it?

Do me a favour. Fuck off!

What was it about? Didn't [he/she/they] have some kind of problem?

What the fuck is [he/she/they] going on about?

What the fuck am I talking about?

You'll never guess who I bumped into the other day.

That's a bit of a stretch, ain't it?

You haven't invited that asshole to the party, have you?

You done well for yourself, didn't you?

What do you take me for?

What a place! A fucking palace.

Do you want a drink? Are you scared?

I didn't need a drink. I was drunk enough.

I hear you've been hanging around.

Apparently you handled yourself quite well.

You see, when you work for me you do things my way.

There's no going behind my back and there's no going out on your own.

It's pathetic. Fucking excuses. All sorts!

Wait a minute! What's the problem?

Come on, don't do anything stupid.

Remember the last time we went through all this?

What, like wasting my time speaking to you?

Get off me. What are you looking at?

Don't fucking do it, you bastard!

Now let's see that money.

If we had a good day, well, we always had a good day…we'd end up at [place name].

Shut up a minute. Turn that fucking music off!

Come on, [name]. Let's get a move on.

How long you've been here? Do you see anyone?

All right, try and describe them.

You little piece of dead meat.

What did I say? What did I fucking say?

What did I tell you? And what do you do?

Well, what was I supposed to do? [He/She/They] started the fire!

I tell a lie, breaks the fucking thing.

It is not fucking all right. It is all fucking wrong, you morons!

Remember what I said? This is a delicate matter.

Fucking grief you've caused me.

There it is. Come on, who wants it?

You're coming with me.

I thought you and I had sorted out our problems long ago.

What's this about then? Why are you here?

You want to go to war with me, [name]?

What, you scared?

Why don't you just sit down?

Oh, it's about that, this, is it?

Look at me. Look into my fucking eyes!

That's not to say I gave the order, is it?

How does that sound? Sounds about right, doesn't it?

I'm joking. I'm not serious. I'm making it up.

So you're a gold digger then?

I suppose they have to talk you up, you being important and that.

Oh, fuck off. You're having a laugh, aren't you?

I can't believe it. I just can't believe it.

I have never understood one word you've ever said to me.

I was just making some tea. Would you like a cup?

You know me. You know what I'm like.

For fuck's sake. All that has nothing to do with me!

No one's saying nothing. Dead quiet.

I'll have a drink but don't go asking me questions about [name].

I think you better try, don't you?

I can't remember what was said, but I do know that I didn't say nothing.

I love that smell. Do you like that smell?

Look what you've gone and done, eh?

What are you trying to do?

Maybe you should go down and wait in the car.

Don't think I want to be here, anyway.

All I know is that a body has been found.

What the fuck are we waiting for, Let's go now!

Something does not make sense.

I don't think that means me, does it?

I can't even hear myself think.

Not exactly over the moon, are you?

There's something really ugly eating away inside of you.

I don't give a fuck whether you approve or not.

Run for fuck's sake! This is for you, you fucking asshole!

You want something done, you gotta do it yourself.

Where do you think you're going? You get back inside!

Lost the taste for it, have you?

Who are you? You're nothing.

Are you going to tell me what this is all about, or what?

Do you understand what that means?

They're charging [name] with murder.

Someone should listen to me for a fucking change.

Well, so what? It's no fucking good to us now.

Don't you call me stupid!

It's a very difficult time. I'm trying to deal with it as best I know.

Are you saying I'm not up to it?

Business is as good as ever.

You're out, fit and well, and I'm happy.

You want a job? Me and you, just like the old days.

We really should catch up.

Do you mind if I get back to work?

You ever kill somebody, [name]?

I think you could if it was somebody you really hated, you know?

I want to ask you a question. No ifs or buts. I want a straight answer.

Why haven't you killed me?

You know exactly how long it's been.

I thought maybe you were dead.

What makes you think that you're so special?

I deserve some love. I want a Valentine's card.

Love what you've done with the place.

I want you to take the money.

You drive me fucking nuts, you do.

What have you got that I haven't got?

It's easy to kill somebody. It's nothing.

Had to be done. Somebody had to do it.

For old time's sake. Down memory lane and all that.

[chronically-engaged]

I made a bingo card for "Maigret and the Dead Lover". The movie is going to be in a theater in my area in mid-March.

[reverdies]

Javert grimaced briefly. He'd suspected as much, and he hated loose ends. But in his line of work, maybe more so even than the police, he'd had to make some kind of peace with it.

"That's reason enough to celebrate then," he commented, saluting Maigret with his mug before taking a gulp. (The wine wasn't quality enough to warrant sipping.)

Meanwhile, celebration or no, Javert was prepared to leave the case behind, let the magistrates have it. "Their circus now, their criminal monkey. Maybe he'll even play them a tune they haven't heard before." Unlikely, of course; he was just spouting witticisms because he had nothing else. He'd already set the whole affair aside in his mind.

Jean would question it later. He heard echoes of that in Maigret's words, which helped it cling uncomfortably when he'd rather shake it off. Now it was his turn to down the wine in one go. Avoid meeting the commissaire's gaze. "What, you don't think he's earned it?"

[chronically-engaged]

His head bobbed indecisively. Did any man earn an execution? And did the state earn the power to deliver it? These questions were often on his mind after a case, but which chose to leave unanswered.

The view from his office looked out onto the Seine where the last tugs were chugged back to lock for the evening, fishermen flushing dredge off the decks. Maigret took a large gulp from his glass before pulling himself away. It was a disrespect to his men, him carrying on this way.

"Oh, nevermind me. You earned a night off after all this, Javert. Are you married?"

[chronically-engaged]

𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 ﹙𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 & 𝐭𝐚𝐠 [some] 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 ﹚

Favorite Colors // Red!

Last Song // Napoleon lyrics by Plum Wodehouse

Currently Reading //My brain is way too ADHD to read rn but I was reading Maigret and the Minister a few months ago. Hopefully I'll get back to that soon.

Watching // Random youtube drama and video essays so I have some noise to help me focus while I draw

Currently Playing // I just finished Sherlock Holmes Crimes and Punishment and was so good that I'm sad the rest of the series is inferior.

Craving // Bubble tea always....

Tagged by // @reedytoxin yayyy < 3

Tagging // YOU

[reedytoxin]

The dark blue shade of the jumpsuit they made her wear drained what little color she had left. She missed the ritual of dressing up for visitors: doing her makeup, choosing a perfume, planning what to serve. The one thing she didn’t miss was the social mask. That part had always been exhausting.

The guard warned her to behave and guided her to the chair in the center of the room. She slumped into it, actually appreciating not having to see a visitor through glass for once. The detective must have had some pull to secure accommodations like these. When she noticed the thoughtful gift he’d brought, she lifted a hand in a small wave and mouthed a silent thank you.

At his question, she tapped the table lightly, an invitation to come closer. “I feel like I’ve turned back time, Detective. I’m back in high school,” she said dryly. “I fill my days with scheduled activities, get fed some nutritious slop”. The adjective dripped with sarcasm. She was shocked when she first learned what could pass for food here. Not even school cafeteria food had been this awful. “My social visits are screened and timed, and I’m just…” She set her cuffed hands on the table, the metal clinking softly against its surface as she leaned forward with deliberate intent. “…so incredibly touch-starved.”

A beat. Then, smoothly, “But how are you? How are things at home?”

[chronically-engaged]

“Isolde is still adjusting. But she’s doing well.” Maigret took a seat in a chair which had been put out for him directly opposite her's on the other side of the bars. He sat with pipe in one hand. It was unlit, but he still clamped his teeth around its tip as he meditated.

“She asks about you sometimes. Since you’re the only relation she has left.” It was only reason he had come. He had never been involved in her case, and only knew about the broader strokes of the incident. "When was the last time you saw her?"

He hadn't spoken to his adoptive daughter much about her aunt, or her parents for that matter. It was only recently when she had begun opening up at all. Why was it he got the impression they weren't particularly close?

"I could, bring back a message. If you like."

[chronically-engaged]

(detective sentences vol 30) "The best lies are 90% true." - braelynn to maigret (this is a TWAU OC thats *loosely* connected to Bigby -- have fun :3 )

“The most convincing, perhaps,” said Maigret, who didn’t like speaking categorically in these thing. Although he was slightly amused that such a conversation was being proposed to him by a little girl of all people.

He put hands to hips in mock sternness.

“And who are you?”

[chronically-engaged]

(astrological headcanon meme) [ PALLAS ] how perceptive is your muse ? can they pick up on things other people don't ? - for maigret & bertram!

Maigret is no Sherlock Holmes. He doesn’t have mega perception skills. And in any case he has forensic scientists to tell him about the kind of thing Holmes specializes in! He does have very good emotional perception though. He is able to read how people feel based on what they say and do and is good at picking up on deception based on language and intent though he’s still not infallible. His skill comes mostly from many years of experience with people from all walks of life, and also the natural empathy he has for people. When he was younger his perception was significant worse which would cause him to put himself in dangerous situations while not being aware. He has a scar on his lip from such an occasion and a bent nose.

I wouldn’t say Bertie has much perception but he is a social butterfly and absorbs his share of gossip which does make him aware of things in a sense. But to a greater extent he will over estimates his knowledge and end up bungling a situation much more than it would have been without his interference.

[house-of-lineage]

Jonathan swallowed, the weight of Maigret's stare pressing against him as he took the card with a tentative hand. “I… understand” he murmured, voice low, careful not to let any trace of unease slip. He studied the writing for a brief moment, memorizing the number as if committing it to memory could somehow tether him back down to reality against the rising chaos around him.

After a pause he gave a small nod. "Tomorrow, then. I’ll make sure to call." Even as he said it, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind- was he really that prepared to face Scotland Yard in the morning, or was he just buying himself a few more hours of quiet before the world demanded answers, he wasn’t sure he had?

Jonathan tried not to sigh too loudly, letting air escape through his nostrils as his shoulder's sagged slightly. Every day was another adventure to partake in, and Jonathan was its unwilling participant.

Surely one of these days, peace would be granted to him.

Surely.

[chronically-engaged]

Maigret dipped his hat at the stranger and went on his way, reluctantly. There was nothing more he could do tonight other than try to get his head down for a few hours before morning. Tomorrow, once the papers got hold of the story, maybe they could hope to find some more leads. But with all the chaos between the recent war and the rocketing flu cases, things like this had a way of falling to the way side. What's one more dead body with all the dead soldiers, and civilians, young and old, being found dead every day?

It was much to late to send a telegram home to his wife in Paris. That was another thing which would have to wait until morning.

Inspector Pyke had booked him a room at the Savoy. Cashing in a "personal favor" from one of the management staff. Although the front lobby was relatively quiet when Maigret entered, it was not of the those establishments which locked its doors at 10pm and let no one in or out until morning.

As Maigret's head hit the pillow, he found his thoughts lingering on his oddly evasive new acquaintance.

"He said he was a doctor," he murmured to himself as he lit his morning pipe. Had he been making home visits at night then? It was sure to lessen the chance of him being infected when the streets were empty. But surely it would be quite inconvenient for his patients to stay up to such a late hour? And more importantly, would his caginess linger now that it was day and it would be proven without doubt that Maigret was who he was, and the police wanted from him nothing more than routine inquest?

The best way to find out was to drop into Pyke's office and see if the man had called in it.

[chronically-engaged]

"No, you don't have to. But I would still appreciate if you would. After all, you did just draw a weapon on me." He cracked open the driver's side door and motioned for Jame to get in. Then, as if it were only natural, let himself in through on the passenger's side.

"Go on, drive." He indicated, making himself perhaps a bit too comfortable. "We can talk while we're on the road."

What remained of his open bag of chips was unceremonious stuffed into one of the free cup holders under the dashboard, freeing Maigret's hands for his pipe. He lit it by instinct and without asking for permission first since he often scarcely noticed himself doing so.

[metam0thosis]

The hell? Was this man insane? Getting into a stranger's car was a horrible decision regardless of whose car it was, but it appeared that this French detective here had the self-preservation skills of a... a salt and vinegar potato chip.

Well, he certainly knew how to catch someone off guard.

Jame slammed himself into the driver's seat and whipped around to glare at him, resisting with all his might the urge to grab the guy by the lapels of his coat.

"Are you out of your mind?!" he balked, and felt around with his foot for the door, not once taking his eyes off the older man. "Get out of my car."

He pulled the door-- the one on his side of the vehicle-- shut.

And then his eyes bugged out. In front of him were the makings of sparks and smoke.

"Hey! Fuck-- you jackass, give me that--" Gumb made a grab for the pipe. "I'unno how they do things in Paris, but you're not gonna hotbox us!"

The plan? Take the damn thing, throw it out the window, and then lock the guy in his basement if he refused to get out. Only fair.

[chronically-engaged]

“Calm down,” said the inspector, lifting his arm slightly to dodge out of Gumb’s reach.

Maigret held down the button to open the window a crack and guided some of the smoke out with the brush of his hand. “I said drive,” he repeated, once the air was clear beyond reproach. “We’ll go into town and discuss this over a few drinks.”

There was nothing in the man’s voice which betrayed even a hint of nerves. And in fact he felt perfectly calm. Why shouldn’t he be? It was a reasonable ask, and sure to appeal to Gumb under the circumstances, especially since Maigret would be paying.

[reedytoxin]

This had been her sister’s final attempt at undermining her: naming someone else as her daughter’s legal guardian. Did Diana really think she was incapable of caring for a child? That she was incompetent? What did this man have that she didn’t? Jan was an accomplished musician who made a six-figure salary, a brilliant woman who owned an apartment in a distinguished building. There was nothing she couldn’t provide. She had done it out of spite, hadn’t she? One last twist of the knife.

Before leaving her place, she picked up the wine bottle and set it back on the counter three times. Would they think she had a drinking problem if she brought it as a gift? Given the man’s line of work, she imagined him scrutinizing her demeanor, her reactions—every detail, from the way she styled her hair to whether her shoes were smudged or gleaming. She would need to perform, to put on her best show. Better than she had during the audition where she’d lost first chair at the Symphony.

In the end, she took the wine. Jan drew in a steadying breath before knocking, already rehearsing her lines, the precise smile she’d offer the moment the door opened.

@chronically-engaged.

[chronically-engaged]

"You will promise not to make faces, will you?" Madame Maigret said as she straightened the lapels of her husband’s jacket. She had on one of her rare annoyed looks, as if she expected her husband to carry on misbehavior despite her warnings.

"Yes, alright." And he meant it though it wouldn’t be done without effort. After all, the night was about Isolde. That woman was the only family she had left so the girl had, at least a right to choose her association. Yet Maigret already felt a certain apprehension towards the arrangement.

"You’re doing it already.” She chastised and he nearly burst out laughing.

"I think that's her at the door."

"Welcome, Mademoiselle Bellows." His curt greeting was enough to pass as polite but no more. "Shall I take your coat?"

[reverdies]

❝  pour the wine and raise a cup.  ❞ (maigret for javert, @chronically-engaged)

Javert met this suggestion with raised brows, but he did as the commissaire asked, smoothly pouring it into two mugs usually reserved for coffee. Handing one over with a satisfied expression, the private detective commented, "I take it you're confident the whole thing is resolved, no loose ends?"

[chronically-engaged]

"There's always loose ends," Maigret grunted. "But our part in it is over. It's in the hands of the courts now."

The last thing he wanted to do now was to continue digging at the affair. Like an itching wound that would never fully heal. A woman had been killed. She'd left behind a family, friends, a lover. A future which would never be. But there was nothing anyone could do to change that now.

Maigret took his mug from Javert and drank almost the entire amount in a single breath. In the days to come, despite his words he would find his mind going back to the case, combing over every detail in his imagination. Replaying the crime as he understood it, sometimes with the suspect the magistrates had charged, sometimes with a new person he'd invented.

It was a wretch of a business and Maigret would not have been in the place of a judge or juror for anything. "A life was taken and now we'll be taking another one," he reflected aloud without fully intending to.

He poured himself another mug and rose to place himself by the window.

[chronically-engaged]

[ P ]Does your muse like poetry ? (for Maigret)

Not at all. He's totally not the sentimental type. But he is the married type so he pretends to be deep sometimes so his wife doesn't think he's an uncultured swine. She for her part is totally aware he fraudulent but likes to make him suffer a bit.

He'll read books that he doesn't always like during the evening after dinner when he and his wife are in the living room together. She's usually knitting something because she likes to get her reading in when he's at work.

[chronically-engaged]

[ D ] Does your muse drive ? How are they behind the wheel ? (for Bertie— I assume he doesn't usually, but say it's an emergency)

Bertie is actually behind the wheel quite often! And he's a pretty confident driver. He has a two-seater which he's always taking to the country when the speed of the trains just won't do! His aunts and friends are always calling him down there for "emergencies" so in a way you are correct.

Only theses emergencies seem to happen on a weekly basis and somewhere along the way he wound up being the man to call for everything (although more accurately its Jeeves, his servant they're actually anticipating, but he shows up too).