Adrian Monk

indie rp. adrian monk. i love him sideblog to @parameddic penned by aster

[virtuallyinsane]

Photo by Kübra Arslaner

[ohisms]

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 .    (  a  collection  of  100  nonverbal  action  prompts .   mature  and  potentially  triggering  themes  are  present .   add  “ + reverse ”  to  swap  assigned  roles .)

∗ o1﹕ sender  tucks  hair  out  of  receiver’s  face . ∗ o2﹕ sender  offers  receiver  a  bite  from  their  fork . ∗ o3﹕ sender  places  their  feet / legs  in  receiver's  lap . ∗ o4﹕ sender  offers  receiver  an  earbud  to  share  their  music . ∗ o5﹕ sender  comforts  receiver  in  the  aftermath  of  a  nightmare . ∗ o6﹕ sender  gives  receiver  company  in  the  hospital . ∗ o7﹕ sender  wraps  their  arms  around  a  hysterical  receiver  to  calm  them . ∗ o8﹕ sender  shows  up  at  receiver’s  home  late  at  night . ∗ o9﹕ sender  falls  asleep  leaning  against  receiver . ∗ 1o﹕ sender  wields  a  [ gun / knife ]  at  receiver . ∗ 11﹕ sender  runs  their  fingers  through  receiver’s  hair . ∗ 12﹕ sender  invites  receiver  to  dance . ∗ 13﹕ sender  takes  a  [ picture / video ]  of  receiver . ∗ 14﹕ sender  places  their  head  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 15﹕ sender  and  receiver  make  eye  contact  across  a  busy  room . ∗ 16﹕ sender  pushes  receiver  against  a  wall  to  kiss  them . ∗ 17﹕ sender  and  receiver  cook  together . ∗ 18﹕ sender  comes  to  receiver  after  being  injured . ∗ 19﹕ sender  sits  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 2o﹕ sender  lifts  receiver's  chin ,  invoking  eye  contact . ∗ 21﹕ sender  overtakes  receiver  in  combat . ∗ 22﹕ sender  finds  receiver  [ injured / bloodied ] . ∗ 23﹕ sender  straightens  an  article  of  receiver’s  clothes . ∗ 24﹕ sender  crawls  into  bed  with  receiver . ∗ 25﹕ sender  rolls  their  eyes  at  receiver . ∗ 26﹕ sender  lights  receiver’s  [ cigarette / joint ] . ∗ 27﹕ sender  is  caught  wearing  receiver's  clothes . ∗ 28﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  with  a  pillow . ∗ 29﹕ sender  writes  a  note  on  receiver’s  skin :  [ note ] . ∗ 3o﹕ sender  wraps  a  blanket  around  receiver’s  shoulders . ∗ 31﹕ sender  runs  and  jumps  into  receiver’s  arms . ∗ 32﹕ sender  shoves  receiver  out  of  anger . ∗ 33﹕ sender  hovers  over  receiver’s  shoulder  as  they  complete  a  task . ∗ 34﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  somewhere  they  shouldn’t  be . ∗ 35﹕ sender  curls  up  against  receiver  in  their  sleep . ∗ 36﹕ sender  is  found  drunk  by  receiver . ∗ 37﹕ sender  throws  an  item  of  sentiment  bitterly  at  receiver . ∗ 38﹕ sender  joins  receiver  in  the  shower . ∗ 39﹕ sender  is  caught  following  receiver . ∗ 4o﹕ sender  traces  one  of  receiver’s  [ scars / bruises ] . ∗ 41﹕ sender  twines  their  fingers  with  receiver’s . ∗ 42﹕ sender  barges  into  receiver’s  home  unannounced . ∗ 43﹕ sender  kicks  receiver’s  shin  beneath  a  table . ∗ 44﹕ sender  aggressively  shoves  past  receiver . ∗ 45﹕ sender  kisses  receiver’s  [ forehead / cheek ] . ∗ 46﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  out  of  harm’s  way . ∗ 47﹕ sender  is  found  sobbing  by  receiver . ∗ 48﹕ sender  locks  receiver  out  of  their  room . ∗ 49﹕ sender  brings  receiver  [ coffee / tea ]  in  the  morning . ∗ 5o﹕ sender  rests  their  forehead  against  receiver’s . ∗ 51﹕ sender  plays  a  song  for  receiver  that  reminds  them  of  them :  [ song ] . ∗ 52﹕ sender  takes  a  [ punch / stab / bullet ]  meant  for  receiver . ∗ 53﹕ sender  buys  receiver  a  drink  at  a  bar . ∗ 54﹕ sender  needs  receiver’s  help  getting  in  the  bath . ∗ 55﹕ sender  and  receiver  cross  paths  in  the  kitchen  late  at  night . ∗ 56﹕ sender  twists  receiver’s  arm  behind  their  back . ∗ 57﹕ sender  winks  at  receiver . ∗ 58﹕ sender  is  found  collapsed  by  receiver . ∗ 59﹕ sender  prevents  an  injured  receiver  from  getting  up . ∗ 6o﹕ sender  claps  a  hand  over  receiver’s  mouth  to  silence  them . ∗ 61﹕ sender  cages  receiver  against  a  [ wall / the floor ]  with  their  arms . ∗ 62﹕ sender  storms  away  from  receiver  during  an  argument . ∗ 63﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  sleeping  in  receiver’s  bed . ∗ 64﹕ sender  [ applies / touches up ]  receiver’s  makeup . ∗ 65﹕ sender  throws  receiver  into  a  wall  during  combat . ∗ 66﹕ sender  dances  sensually  with  receiver . ∗ 67﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  across  the  face . ∗ 68﹕ sender  places  their  hand  on  receiver’s  leg  while  driving . ∗ 69﹕ sender  pulls  a  chair  out  from  under  receiver . ∗ 7o﹕ sender  catches  receiver’s  wrist  when  they  turn  to  leave . ∗ 71﹕ sender  leaves  an  intimate  mark  on  receiver . ∗ 72﹕ sender  beats  receiver  in  a  video  game . ∗ 73﹕ sender  and  receiver  stand  in  stunned  silence  after  a  fight . ∗ 74﹕ sender  cares  for  receiver  while  they’re  sick . ∗ 75﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  on  a  hike . ∗ 76﹕ sender  is  caught  snooping  in  receiver’s  things . ∗ 77﹕ sender  and  receiver  cuddle  while  watching  television . ∗ 78﹕ sender  throws  something  aggressively  at  receiver . ∗ 79﹕ sender  creeps  up  behind  receiver  to  scare  them . ∗ 8o﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  shopping  together . ∗ 81﹕ sender  helps  receiver  [ dye / style ]  their  hair . ∗ 82﹕ sender  draws  receiver  into  a  kiss  by  the  back  of  their  neck . ∗ 83﹕ sender  is  discovered  having  a  panic  attack  by  receiver . ∗ 84﹕ sender  accidentally  injures  receiver  during  sparring . ∗ 85﹕ sender  grabs  receiver  roughly  by  the  hair . ∗ 86﹕ sender  brings  receiver  to  their  knees  during  combat . ∗ 87﹕ sender  shows  receiver  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ∗ 88﹕ sender  winks  [ seductively / mockingly ]  at  receiver . ∗ 89﹕ sender  yells  at  receiver  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air . ∗ 9o﹕ sender  helps  receiver  patch  up  a  wound . ∗ 91﹕ sender  holds  receiver  as  they  cry . ∗ 92﹕ sender  silently  and  angrily  points  receiver  towards  the  door . ∗ 93﹕ sender  gestures  for  receiver  to  sit  down . ∗ 94﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  into  their  lap . ∗ 95﹕ sender  cradles  receiver’s  face . ∗ 96﹕ sender  tackles  receiver  out  of  the  way  of  danger . ∗ 97﹕ sender  has  hidden  an  injury  from  receiver ,  and  receiver  finds  out . ∗ 98﹕ sender  confronts  receiver  about  their  unhealthy  behavior . ∗ 99﹕ sender  proposes  to  receiver . ∗ 1oo﹕ sender  has  just  died ,  receiver  finds  out .

[badkidsjokes]

​what do you call a fish with no eyes 

a fih

[misteradrianmonk]

"Mrs Garcia, I'm not accusing 'anybody' of 'anything'. I'm accusing you. Of murder."

he's so. i love him

[lighthouseborn]

  Henry approached the unfolding of the library shelves a bit like a conservationist did some wild phenomenon; intentionally quiet (so as not to disturb), a little awed, very curious. That was all, for at least a full three seconds. This visitor pulling books from the shelf. Henry observing. Eventually getting noticed. Good- his brows lifted, surprised he was not interrupting.

  A label maker?

  “Not.. that I know of. But this-” vague gesture, at the disassembled collection and their former rightful places- “is the closest I get to clerical work around here. There could be one ...floating around in a desk somewhere.” There was a sort of bemusement, but ultimately even his tell-all face remained unperturbed. He felt people were always reorganizing entire stretches of the shelves, with the number of books left lying in strange places or out on the tables, even slotted into the wrong shelves seemingly at random. There was... some tedium to returning them, but no more than usual. Henry often found he didn't mind it so much, though he wasn't sure why. Dry tasks weren't generally his favorite. (Being even half as tolerating of the filing system in the DPD would be nice from a strictly practical point of view.)

  Henry hummed lightly, scanning his eyes over the stacks surrounding the library's very busy visitor. It'd been... what? Under a half hour, anyhow, since he pointed him here. Henry leaned his weight on his heels.

  “Carrying a grudge against the Library of Congress Classification?”

[misteradrianmonk]

Oh. This was partly this man's job.

He rolled his shoulders, more of a tic than a gesture, head twisting to the side like he had water trapped in one ear (awful comparison; he would never. At least not in public.) "Oh. No." No, there was nothing wrong with the LC, "No, no grudges. It's really - it's an incredible system." Not without a smile (aware this might not be the most normal thing to say), "I use it at home."

But that still left him with the correction to make, because he had not shared it yet. The pads of his fingers touched, lightly, against each other, a tap-tap-tap as he chose the words. "It's just --" it wasn't like letting it go was an option anymore, and he winced with his inability to help the simple fact, "you had them backwards." See? He watched Henry to check if he knew what Monk meant, but then, apparently unsatisfied (or unsure), he stepped back to gesture loosely with one hand:

"These shelves, along here, up the top, they - they - they jut out, on this side. The metal comes out this way." This way, with emphasis. "But if you look ... every other bookshelf, it juts the other way. On the other side on the shelf." He shook his head. It didn't match. Someone - and he was not saying Henry had been the one at fault here - had set up the shelves like it didn't matter that they matched, and "You could turn it around, but honestly, at that point, all the books would flip to the other side, they'd be in the wrong spot, what's the point?"

He was almost done emptying the shelves. He lifted his hands in a shrug. "They were backwards."

[outofcontextadrianmonk]

out of context Monk

[strivia]

And here we see Randy in possession of the group's braincell.

[studyofmonkology]

What's Adrian's favorite kind of crime?

Organized crime.

Ba-dum tss 🥁

[silveme]

[hipstersbleedroses]

[outofcontextadrianmonk]

out of context Monk

[florifer]

will i always be this angry?

[misteradrianmonk]

what if i say i made him an about page now

[immortalled]

          Wow. This guy was a freak.

             Nathan hadn't noticed at first, he'd been too focused on stuffing his gob with the actually not-so-bad butter cookies. He wasn't usually a fan, more of a chocolate chip kinda guy (or better yet berry and white chocolate, if he wanted to get fancy schmancy), but this was the first thing he'd had to eat all day. Of course he'd take advantage.

          So he was eating, right? Enjoying the crumbly, sugary, buttery goodness, getting crumbs everywhere, when he noticed the man wandering in was having some kind of nervous fit. Total mental case, that guy. Probably from a hospital somewhere, Nathan guessed, on account that he had someone looking after him. Nathan absently licked a few crumbs from his palm. The crazy guy all but wailed.

          Huh?

          Nathan sucked the crumbs from a finger and reached for another cookie, and like stabbing a high-calorie voodoo doll, he watched from the corner of his eye as the man spasmed like he'd been struck. Or maybe was gonna hurk.

          Oh my god.

           Nathan was careful not to look at them directly, but his mouth wobbled. He wasn't very good at hiding his grin. He might've let it go after that, really, really, he might have. Especially when the fella's caretaker all but dragged the guy over to talk to him, but now that he had no choice but to look at them... (Ahahaha! Oh, shit, oh. Shut up, Nathan. Don't giggle. Straight faced. C'mon.) ...he saw what the man looked like. The impossibly straight button-up shirt, the perfectly polished shoes, the sharp-as-a-razor ironing job on his everything. It was like someone had put the man through a clothes press and pumped him full of starch every morning. He looked like an old, curly haired Simon Bellamy. The immediate comparison pinched funny in the centre of Nathan's chest.

          That cinched it, then, didn't it?

         Nathan grinned at them both and crammed a cookie whole into his cheek. Crumbs sprinkled onto his shirt and his finger came away from his lips with a pop.

          Mister Young. That was nice, and she was cute. In a polite, probably too put together for him MILFy sort of way. Ten bucks said her house was all beige and white with Live, Laugh, Love slapped somewhere on a wall.

          "Oh, yeah, no problem. Just doing my civic duty, y'know. Helping solve a murder." He grinned around the cookie and waggled his brows. "You guys are cops?" Tellingly, his eyes trailed to Adrian. Something wasn't adding up. "Why haven't you got on uniforms?"

[misteradrianmonk]

Crumbs sprinkled onto Nathan's shirt and his finger came away from his lips with a pop. Monk thought, with something like a shudder he had to breathe all the way through, a slow, controlled exhale:

This kid was d i a b o l i c a l.

"We work with the police, but we're not the police," Natalie told Nathan, "Mr Monk is a well-respected consultant on cases that seem impossible. He's really - he's really good, you should see him."

What? No. Monk looked at her, shaking his head just a little bit (don't invite this guy closer to him, Monk didn't want to be so much as in line of sight of him), but then it was his turn to speak and Nathan was looking at him and Monk actually did, really, want to know more about this case. It did seem kind of impossible. And things weren't impossible. They were just... particular.

Like him.

"The --" yeah, okay, his turn, "Mr Young, I read the statement you gave to the police about what happened that night. I know they were satisfied but I don't -- I don't think it quite adds up." Where Nathan had been in relation to the body, how long the body had been in the water, what Nathan had done when he'd found it there. "Did you know the victim?"

[normaltothemax]

“ Be still, don’t move. ” he's probably freaked out there's a butterfly/moth near JD's head or sth. "I have experience with these. They can sense... fear." (foooooor JD? from monk @misteradrianmonk hi it's aster i have started writing a strange little man with a lot of phobias. you don't gotta write for this but here i am nonetheless)

Just as he raises a brow at the man—was he messing with JD? It sort of felt like he was being messed with (then again, the guy did look pretty freaked out…)—the colourful little butterfly that’d been fluttering around his head landed directly on the tip of his nose. It was kind of hilarious, like something out of a cartoon. JD went a little cross-eyed trying to keep looking at it. “It’s just a butterfly.” No judgements here; a phobia’s a phobia (unless he was being messed with, in which case, not cool, man). “They don’t bite.”

It only lingered for a heartbeat longer, before deciding JD wasn’t actually a flower and lifting off again. He watched it float away with an amused little smile. Wait until Steph heard about that. She’d probably tease him about being a Disney princess, but honestly? Part of him was pretty pleased with the idea of that. He’d be the prettiest damn princess there was. “See? Gone now. You good, man?”

@misteradrianmonk (x)

[misteradrianmonk]

"Aaaah." The butterfly floated just a little bit too close to Mr Monk and he pulled away with both hands drawn back, a flinch of fear outside of his control. The suddenness of the movement spooked the butterfly and it continued on its merry way, deciding Monk, too, was not a flower, going to take its vicious... licking.... butterfly straw of a mouth and suck the life out of something else. Of course it didn't bite. It did much worse. It fluttered and it licked.

A flying licking machine.

(Trudy had, once, loved butterflies. Monk usually didn't hate them if they weren't flying directly at him.)

"Did --" no. No, no, he was - he was sympathetic, he produced a little plastic pack of wipes from his pocket and yanked one out, crisp and white and folded carefully, to offer it to JD, "Here, I, um -- I have a wipe." Sharing the wipes. Did JD want a wipe? "If you want. You probably want. You should take it."

[ofyorkshire]

Mr. Monk was a very strange fellow. BJ couldn't decide if watching the poor man fuss with the collection of ink pens was more soothing (the sensory clicky-clack of them rattling together was nice) or agitating (god, why doesn't he just put them back?) but it made a nice distraction. Enough that the reflexive fight or flight building in BJ ebbed long enough for him to remember to breathe again. In, out. Steady. Easy on. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Experience told him to keep his nose out of it for once. Stop answering cops' questions. Stop getting involved. Hell, maybe it was time he legged it out of the United States altogether. He could go to Mexico next, find a beach where he could hide away, make his money off the rich and lonely tourists. From there, maybe he could go to Spain. He'd liked Spain. But (and this was a frightening but) just because the killer failed didn't mean that TK wasn't still in grave danger. Running away wouldn't protect TK.

"You have to promise that you'll be careful," he said. "And that you'll catch him. Quickly. Before he can have another chance."

BJ sighed.

"I don't know who TK told about the trip." A tiny, tiny white lie. He didn't know for sure, but he would be willing to bet that any of the 126 knew. If the detective here was worth anything, he'd figure that out easily enough, BJ was sure.

"But his dad was supposed to go. Owen Strand, I think is his name. He cancelled last minute, upset TK pretty badly. That's why he asked me to go with him." Gingerly, he straightened one of the stray pens with a nudge. "Never met him but he seems a bit of an arse. TK loves him." A beat. BJ leaned in, gaze suddenly sharp.

"You don't suppose it were him that tried to off TK? Is he a suspect?"

[misteradrianmonk]

He moved the pens.

Adrian's eyes flicked up to stare BJ down, long and hard, pads of his fingers pressed lightly together on the desk in front of him as Mr Anderson 'corrected' the straightness of a pen that was already correct. He didn't think BJ did it, really. It didn't make sense, he was there at the last minute, he had agreed to go at the last minute (knowing a parachute was sabotaged?), even if he could ... mark the bum chute in some way, and they were still figuring out if it had been marked, voluntarily putting himself that close to a would-be murderer?

And he was asking them, Monk and the Detectives who worked this case, to be careful. It didn't seem like a threat. It seemed... genuine.

"No," Sharona said -- Owen was not a suspect -- at the same time Adrian said, "We're considering all of the possibilities. We don't ... really talk about active cases with the family." (The way he included BJ in 'the family' was not on purpose, but he did not think anything more about it at all.)

They exchanged a look, Monk and Sharona. This was, apparently, a common thing, common enough that they could communicate in the way Adrian's eyes lingered on her -- half turning away -- before Monk seemingly relented. Sharona thought this young man was worried about his friend, had picked up something Monk had thought was irrelevant (obviously, BJ had feelings for the guy) and she thought it was very relevant, especially given they were currently keeping BJ from seeing him.

Fine, said the way Monk turned back to BJ.

Fine.

"It - it doesn't seem likely, to us." You know? His hands turned outward just slightly, gesturing almost like a shrug but only with his thumbs, fingers still intertwined, "They work together every day, it would be easy to manufacture an incident on the job, he's - I mean, he's a paramedic. His father's the fire captain." It wouldn't make any sense to set it up as a jump like that. And it was statistically too impersonal for a domestic dispute, that sort of thing was usually explosive, this was... calculated. "Statistically, it doesn't make any sense."

This was cold and detached, but it was planned. Adrian still needed to meet Owen Strand, but... he wasn't sure whether the man could premeditate the murder of his son.

A knock at the door. They were not, Monk remembered, in an interrogation room: they were in a room with a line of ascending-order serial-numbered pens on the table and a coffee machine and a little hustle and bustle outside. They, the three of them, looked up, to a young DC named Jamie. Jamie was new to the department, almost newer than Monk, but they had been assigned this case to sort of tide them over into their first homicide. Monk wasn't sure if they were cut out for it. He was still deciding.

"Hey, Mr Monk," they did not 'um' or 'ah' in their speech, at least, "you said to let you know when the hospital was taking visitors, they've just opened up. You want I should hold the instructor?" somewhere in the building they had the jump instructor waiting to be interrogated, too. Katie had already said that she'd been paid off by 'someone - I don't know, they were anonymous', to send TK out of that plane. She'd been distraught, but she hadn't been the one to actually plan the attempted murder. Monk wanted to interrogate her properly.

"We should interrogate her while she's here," Monk told them, instead. He did not quite have the capacity to scoop all the pens back up and put them in the cupholder, but Sharona wasted no time in doing so, rattling loudly. "Mr Anderson, if you can stay in the area--"

"Go and see him, BJ," Sharona told him, "have you called his family, do you need to borrow a phone?" Was he alone? (Monk stood, to leave them to this conversation, going to check paperwork with Jamie about Katie's initial statement, instead.)

[sexlessrpmemes]

Mystery/Detective themed starters

“Haven’t seen you in this hole for a while… who’s missing today?”

“You detectives are always so serious.”

“You were seen at the scene of a murder last night and I want to know why.”

“There’s a hurricane coming for you, detective.”

“I need your help finding someone. It’s important.”

“Your case is low priority, there are other things I need to do first.”

“In this town, not even your blood’s sacred.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you don’t back off, detective.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“You think you’re a badass? I once slept in a van full of dead bodies to get the jump on a perp. You’re a kitten compared to me.”

“This city’s a hard place to live. Don’t let it change you.”

“If you want to be one of us, be ready to leave your family and friends behind. People will hurt them to get at you if you keep them close. It’s just how things are.”

“The eye that never sleeps is on your tail, (name). Pack up and get gone before they get you.”

“You’re a wasp among honeybees, detective (name). We’d have a better use for you, if you’d let go of your damn righteousness.”

“Your fingerprints were found at the scene of a crime. Why were you there?” 

“…you were the mole?”

“You’ve been feeding them information the whole time?”

“I can’t give up on this case.”

“I wont give up on you.”