Detectives - Tumblr Posts
GUYS ITS TIN TIN RAHHHH
I GOT INTO HIS BOOKS CAUSE EOF THE LIBRARY, AND THE MOVIE TOO
Tintin Meets The Detectives
Art by Adam Murphy
sherlock holmes deduces you are trans before you've figured it out yourself and refers to you with those pronouns and then when you look confused is like "ah...had you not arrived at that conclusion yet?" and wafts away in his dressing gown to smoke seventeen pipes, leaving you in a gender crisis
DETECTIVE! AT YOUR SERVICE 🐈⬛🐇
if i was smart i would've made this game, but im not so here's some art of it
sherlock holmes deduces you are trans before you've figured it out yourself and refers to you with those pronouns and then when you look confused is like "ah...had you not arrived at that conclusion yet?" and wafts away in his dressing gown to smoke seventeen pipes, leaving you in a gender crisis
so i got tumblr mostly for stimulation and to hang out with my friends, but i also wanted a place to post about stuff i'm making i'm hoping that by putting it here maybe i'll actually finish stuff??? so creature of the week starts now. this will be mirrored on neocities once i finally have character pages and stuff. but since my neocities is a wip ill post creatures that are not going on the neocities first i was told posting art is a bad idea by one of my friends so. concept flats only i suppose
creature of the week is tiger lanci! she/her, bisexual, somewhere in her late twenties. not necessarily an ace detective, this reporter is constantly hunting for interesting mysteries to write about. if her daydreams were to ever come true, she would be solving every one she finds. though not necessarily good at investigation itself, she's excellent at holding interviews and working information out of people.
in lanci's world, insects have gained intelligence levels similar to humans through fungal symbiosis. large host plants for bugs are treated as cities and small ones as small towns. bugs live in relative harmony as they always have. lanci lives in the tree "mayhaw," and has lived there most of her life.
her project is what i'm using to learn how to use rpgmaker xp so pray for me guys /lh
Working on these two baes. I'm working on a full story, haven't thought of a title yet but it's about two detectives Moscow and BD in a lead search for a notorious serial killer.
Living High, Chapter 1: Strays
[Author's Note: This is my most recent work at the moment. It's a little "chapter" that I wrote to work on perspective, which is among the many things that I've been trying to improve upon (some others being pacing and communication without dialogue). After reading a lot of noir fantasy novels I really wanted to try my hand at it. This story was really inspired by the "Garrett" novels by Glenn Cook, as well as "A Madness of Angels" by Kathy Griffin. Both are amazing series and if you want to read something other than my drivel I would highly recommend them! Anyways, this was a whole heap of fun to write, so I will probably add more chapters later. Or I'll forget. Either way.] A smoggy dusk was starting to fall over the city, though its traffic thrummed on in stubborn defiance of the changing sky. If anything, the streets livened up after sundown, especially in this district. From the dusty window of our tiny apartment I got a great view of the nightlife, as seedy as it was. I was feeling particularly unproductive that day, so I had allotted myself some time to people watch. With our few possessions packed away, all that was left was to drum up business for our little operation, and one of us was already out pounding the pavement. I sensed her as soon as she was on our floor, long before her hand touched the doorknob. That’s one of the little quirks of being me: I can sense a virgin from a hundred yards away. It isn’t really as handy as you might think. An eye-blink later she was stomping through the front door with all the grace of an elephant-seal. She shuffled her heavy boots to kick the mud off and shrugged an old, threadbare black jacket off of her shoulders. She dumped a heap of un-dispensed advertisements on the wobbly end table standing sentry at the door, almost causing it to topple over. It held its ground against the paper assault, though, and garnered a bit more of my respect. “Any luck?” I asked as Creature settled down on the sagging couch where I was already perched. She responded with a withering look. I had expected as much. Business had been slow. In the way that the movement of large glacial bodies can be referred to as “slow”. We had had one client a week ago, but it had been a simple open-and-shut case founded on spousal discontent. No matter where you are or what you are, some things are constant. The retainer had barely been enough to cover our living expenses. The freelance detective business is a tough racket to get into, and I certainly wasn’t married to the idea, but at the moment it was the best of a handful of bad options. I don’t really have many real-world skills. Other than bone-breaking. I’m not a violent guy by nature, but knocking heads comes pretty easily to me. That’s because, as my ever-loving friend Creature would put it, I’m “the size of a goddamn freighter”. That’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I do stand about six-foot five, and I’m solidly built. Life in the Northern Mountains won’t help you accumulate many civilized skills, but it will keep you in shape. The painful pace of our progress should have been expected. It would take a while for our name to make the rounds. All we could do for the time being was spread the word and make our presence known. We had managed to accumulate a handful of friends in the city, most of whom I wasn’t keen on keeping for very long. I was rather fond of our landlord, Marlene. She ran a tavern on the main floor of our building, and always made sure that we were fed, even when we were short on cash. I think she’s got a soft spot for us. I couldn’t be sure, but I would peg her for a human. Humans are about as rare or as common as anything in a place like this. If she didn’t have an ounce of witch blood in her, though, I would be surprised. She had probably been pretty once, but now her face was obscured by long slash marks, and a patch covered the hole where one of her eyes used to be. The scars didn’t bother me much. I’ve seen worse. I was less keen on Lester. Lester was the shape shifter that had handed us our first case. There was no doubting he was a city-shifter. After generations of living in an urban environment most of them have adapted to their surroundings by taking on the forms of the typical street fare; rats, pigeons, the occasional fox, and strange and grotesque amalgamations of all of them. I had never seen Lester change, and I never hoped to, but he looked enough like a rat in his human form. He was small and made entirely out of angles with a long, sharp face. A crop of ruddy hair grew out from his head – not a color you usually see on Non-humans or half breeds. He always looked greasy. Just being in the room with him made you feel like you were part of some crooked, back-alley deal. But he was doing some scouting for us as a favor, so I had to tolerate him. As little as I liked Lester, I liked Darko Poole less. To this day I have no idea where Creature picked this guy up. I suspected that Darko wasn’t his real name, but it was what people called him. Probably because he was a Halfer. Half-drow, half-god knows what. Whatever bizarre union had created him had left him with sickly gray skin, a curtain of long dark hair, and bright red eyes. He was tall – though not as tall as me – and had the deceptively thin body of an elf-breed. His trade was similar to ours, though he exchanged more information and fewer fists. I didn’t doubt he would slit throats without a second’s thought, though. Fighting and killing are natural instincts to the drow, and there’s not a moral between them. I’m no racist, of course, but I’ve never had many friends among the dark elves. I think Darko knew that I wasn’t his fan, and he drew a steady supply of amusement from that fact. We had just settled in for the evening when Darko came knocking. He announced his arrival with an insistent rapping on the door. I exchanged glances with Creature and from her exasperated frown derived that I would be answering it. I stood up from the couch, almost knocking a small lamp over in the process. My hand shot out and grabbed the base to keep it from toppling over. I still wasn’t used to the lack of space in my new life, or the influx of people. Unicorns are solitary creatures by nature. At least, from my experience. I’m not exactly a poster-boy for my species. I’m as much of a colossus on four legs as I am on two; built like a massive, hairy, draft horse with a jagged crag of bone jutting out of my forehead. I was made for harsh life in the mountains. I’ve been told there are still “real” unicorns – the graceful white kind that decorate the pages of tomes and the stitches of tapestries - around, but I’ve never met one. Rumors place many of them in the forests of Southrun where they supposedly live feral, refusing to use their considerable magical endowment to take a human form like civilized creatures. In cities and towns it’s considered common courtesy to stand upright. I guess there are purists for everything, though. Personally, I like having a “human” shape. Prefer it, even. It makes my life a hell of a lot easier. I opened the door and planted myself firmly in its place, one hand on either side of the narrow frame, barring entry. Much to my chagrin, Darko was staring me down with those eerie red eyes of his. “What do you want?” I demanded, my tone as business-like as I could make it. Darko looked unperturbed by my snarl. “Hello Luka. Pleasure to see you, as always. Shouldn’t you be offering pony rides somewhere?” I was unfazed. “What do you want?” I repeated. “Testy, testy.” He chided. “You know you shouldn’t place yourself under so much stress. You’ll give yourself an ulcer.” “Darko!” “Fine, fine. You should be a more gracious host. I brought you a case.” Only then did he move, too soon for me to shoot him with an incredulous look. He folded himself over and slid under one of my arms in an instant. It wasn’t until he was behind me that I noticed he had not come alone. His companion was undeniably fair, even with her eyes puffy and ringed with red. Seeing my hulking figure obscuring the doorway had lit the fires of uncertainty in her eyes. I tried for a sheepish smile and unhinged myself from the frame, extending an arm to beckon her inside. She hesitated but, seeing that Darko had made himself at home, strode elegantly and purposefully inward. I almost knocked over our stack of flyers following her. When I returned to the sitting area I found that Darko had taken Creature’s previous position on the couch, draping himself over languidly across it. Creature had dislodged herself from the sofa and was now at the window, bracing herself against the sill. Her gaze flitted from Darko, to me, and landed on the unknown woman. “You boys want to fill me in?” “Don’t look at me!” I carped with a shrug. Instead, we both looked at Darko, who sat up a bit straighter. “Right to business then? Very well. I would like you both to meet Delphina.” All of our attentions turned to the woman standing in the middle of the room. Now that I was given the opportunity to reflect on her appearance I found her to be even more alluring than I had initially suspected. Her hair was the palest of blonds, plaited into a simply but fashionable braid down her back. Her skin was similarly colorless, but it was perfectly smooth and seemed lit from within. She was long and thin and projected a regal, dignified air, even in her uncertainty. When I looked into her eyes, clouded and unreadable, I was struck by their violet hue. “Pleased to meet you,” She remarked, voice almost distant. Something about her affect told me that she wasn’t. “Delphina is a half-elf breed,” Darko elaborated, apparently seeing how antsy and furtive I had become in her presence. I don’t exactly have a way with women. “And she has a business proposition for you. Delphina, these are the investigators I told you about. The big one is Luka and the mean one is Creature.” The elf blood explained a lot. The elvish are renowned for the ethereal quality of their beauty. These days the larger hubs of society are full of all sorts of creatures, including bastard offspring from pairings that would have been considered monstrous only generations ago. Halfers still aren’t the norm and can be treated with some suspicion based on their parentage, but society has slowly become more tolerant. I doubted that this woman was someone who had to deal with “due suspicion”, though. She could unlock bank vaults with that face. If there was one person who wasn’t charmed, it was Creature. I had suspected as much. Creature didn’t get along with many people at first blush. That went double for other women. Triple if they had some sort of natural beauty. Had I not known better I would have suspected it was the product of jealousy, but the only thing I’ve ever seen Creature try to woo is a slab of steak. No, she just doesn’t trust beautiful people. She says that nature wrapped them up in those good looks to compensate for all of their craziness. Sometimes I think she’s right. If she has another flaw (She does. Many, in fact.) it’s her impatience. “Well?” She demanded of Delphina, more callously than I would have liked. To her credit, the elvish girl was not intimidated by my tiny, scrappy scoundrel. She composed herself, folding her hands demurely in front of her, and began. “You see,” she said, “I would like to hire you two to look into the matter of my fiancé’s death. He was murdered four nights ago in our home when I was-“ “Wait, wait.” I stopped her before she really delved into her story. “Your fiancé was murdered? I mean, I don’t want to sound unhelpful, but doesn’t that sound like a problem for the local Peace Keepers?” The Peace Keepers are the elite, highly-trained groups of soldiers tasked with policing the streets of our towns and cities. And by elite and highly-trained I of course mean incompetent and completely unreliable. If you enlist in the military and are generally ass-faced or terrible at your job, you get relegated to the Peace Keepers. As such they don’t usually take a lot of pride in their work. Some of them seem to enjoy bullying civilians, and the rest are in the pocket of whoever has the most cash on hand. That being said, they’re still the ones in charge of upholding the law. Delphina grimaced at the suggestion. I couldn’t say I really blame her. “The Peace Keepers can’t help me. They sniffed around the crime scene and did exactly the amount of work they were required to do, no more. Even if I could convince them to investigate, I wouldn’t be able to trust them. My husband-to-be, Thomas Shueler, was a wealthy man, and I’m sure there are people in the business world that would not be sorry that he’s dead. No matter how rich you are, there are always deeper pockets in the world.” I could understand where she was coming from. Even if she paid off the Peace Keepers to put real effort into her case, she would constantly have to worry about being outbid by people more powerful than she was. At best that would distract from her cause, and at worst would run directly counter to it. Creature and I were probably cheaper in the long run. Hiring thugs like Darko and us would probably be cheaper in the long run. “So, you think that your fiancé’s murder was related to his business dealings?” I asked, just to clarify. “Well,” She faltered. “I don’t really know what to think, actually. I’m sure foul play was involved in his death, but it isn’t exactly a cut and dry killing. He…” She broke off, unable to continue, so Darko took it upon himself to pick up where she had left off. “The way he died… it almost looked like an animal attack. Gruesome, from the way it’s been described. No sign of clean cuts or fist fighting. Torn apart, more like it. Throat ripped out. Tooth and claw job. But it couldn’t have been just some animal that stumbled out of the woods. Anything that big and that mean… someone would have seen or heard it. And the whole mess went down on the third floor of a gated property, the front door locked. There’s no way some dumb beast just wandered in and decided to have itself a midnight snack.” I could see that the conversation was making our guest uncomfortable, so I cut Darko short to address her. “So, where were you when all of this was happening?” She had begun to tell me earlier, but I had interrupted. “I was at my mother’s house,” She said quietly. She was trembling now and had lost some of her earlier resolve. “We were making plans for the wedding….” She stopped herself again. “Oh gods,” Creature sounded agitated. “Calm down lady. Just… don’t cry, okay?” Creature has never known what to do when someone cries. I think it freaks her out. She just gets fidgety and loud and ends up making things worse. Luckily, Delphina seemed to remember herself and the quivering stopped. She was once again the dutiful lover rather than the frightened, sorrowful girl. “As I said, my husband was very well-off, and I am his only beneficiary, aside from money that was endowed to keep his business alive. I am willing to offer you one-tenth of his estate, worth two-hundred-thousand in gold total, if you are successful in locating the killer. I will gladly pay you a retainer of one thousand in gold for your time, and cover your expenses while you are under my employ.” I must have looked surprised. I can’t imagine a variation of that conversation where I didn’t. Twenty thousand gold is a hefty sum, more than I had ever had at one time at that point. I exchanged glances with Creature, whose amber eyes lit up like street lamps. The case was a bit more than we had ever taken on, but for that much money it sounded worth a shot… Reining my imagination in, I remembered our second visitor and affixed him with a trustless stare. “And what’s your cut in all of this?” I asked dubiously. I doubted Darko would present us anything without a finder’s fee. A full blown murder investigation was probably more leg work than he preferred, but twenty thousand is enough to get even the laziest mercs off of their asses. Darko was inspecting his fingernails with feigned interest. “Me? I don’t require much. Since there are two of you and one of me, and you two will be doing the heavy lifting, I can settle for thirty percent.” I looked at him like he had just snorted a line of iron dust off a pixie. “Thirty percent?!” I demanded, “For what? All you did was drop her on our doorstep! That’s barely worth ten.” “I could have gotten a hundred percent if I didn’t have a special place in my heart for you two,” Darko pointed out dryly, the notion of losing out on his imagined cut putting a chill in his voice. “The thirty percent’s not just for delivering her. That will cover my consulting fee, too.” Before I could balk he elaborated, “You two still don’t know this city from your own asses, and you don’t know how to work it like I do. Thirty percent and I’ll do all the digging you need, give you all the hints you want. If you’re nice to me, I may even be able to round up some reinforcements if things get dicey. Or you can hand me fifteen percent and I’ll be on my way. I warn you though; most people in this business aren’t near as sweet as me, or as pretty.” As much as I loathed conceding to his point, Darko was right. Not about the merits of his own appearance, of course, but about the prospects of finding another consultant should we need one down the road. And with something that sounded as sticky as this, I had a feeling we would. Who knew what they would try to charge if they found out about the pay-out. In the long run, it was probably cheaper hiring Darko right out of the gate. Dammit. I exchanged glances with Creature, who shrugged noncommittally and seemed to have no desire to be included in the financial bargaining. I gave an unhappy grunt, but nodded. “Fine. Thirty percent it is. But you’d better make it worth our while.” “I never have problems delivering, Luka.” He informed me whimsically. “Before we go any further,” Delphina interjected, breaking a bit of the tension, “I want this to be perfectly clear: If you find any leads, any evidence, anything, you report it directly to me. I want to know everything that you find.” I had considered this a given. “Understood,” I replied. “Should we… sign a contract?” “Already have one handy,” Darko jumped nimbly up, withdrawing a piece of paper from within his jacket and handing it to me. I unraveled the parchment and gave it a once-over. Nothing in there that hadn’t been discussed earlier. I noticed Darko had taken the liberty of adding in his thirty percent before he had even stepped through the door. Cocky bastard. I fumbled about for a pen and scrawled my name in the designated areas before passing it off to Creature, who did the same. I picked up the contract and returned it to Delphina, who rolled it neatly and tucked it under her arm. “Very well then.” “So the hunt begins!” Darko chimed in. “The hunt for what?” Creature contemplated almost darkly. I sighed. “That does seem to be the question. Could be any number of things. Can’t be a human, that much is certain, and probably not a wild animal, either. Torn not cut could mean some sort of shape shifter, maybe one of the meaner breeds of troll or ogre. Any notable organs or appendages missing?” Darko shook his head. “Nothing taken or obviously removed, from the reports, though it sounds like the whole thing was a mess. Just the throat. That was probably the killing blow.” “No throat could be a vampire, then.” I added reluctantly, racking my brain. Suddenly Darko was smirking. There was nothing to like about that expression. “Wealthy business man, possible vampire attack? I think I know who we need to talk to.” He didn’t give us the chance to ask who. “You two ever heard of Lux Moridonte?” Neither of us had. “Surprising,” Darko mused, “Lux might as well be the overlord of our fair city. He has his hands in anything black market or underground. Got a third of the town on his pay roll, or might as well have. He’s not just a thug, he’s the king. If he wasn’t in business with Shueler, he at least knew about him. He owns a bunch of places around these parts, dens of inequity all of them, but he keeps shop at a cozy little club a dozen blocks from here.” I pursed my lips. The idea of calling on this Lux wasn’t sounding particularly appealing. It was bad enough he was a vampire, but a vampire who owned the city? I’m not prejudice against the Night People, but I’m smart enough to know that a vampire is bad news. There aren’t many of them left nowadays, since most of their kind were wiped out in the last crusades a century ago, and the ones that have made it this far are tougher than nails. Damn near impossible to kill, too. If you run afoul of one you have to rip it into pieces too small to come after you. Or stake it through the heart. But you really don’t want to get close enough to do either of those things. A lead was a lead, though, and I couldn’t very well shy away with our client standing in our living room. “Can you take us there?” Darko smiled again, “I can. But we might want to wait a few hours. Down there, the party is probably just getting started.”
equal rights for women will never truly be achieved until we have more female noir detectives
Luego leí a Pedro Garfias. Luego me quedé dormida. Luego me puse a mirar por el ojo de buey y vi nubes muy altas, y pensé en los cuadros del Dr. Atl y en la región más transparente.
Overheard at the BAU
Detectives: "who are we looking for?"
The BAU: "The profile suggests a white male in his 30s."
Detectives: "...."
The BAU: "He also has an average built."
Detectives: "...why did we even call these people?"
10th Painting of Dear, United Kingdom
I'm already done making the tenth painting of Dear, United Kingdom. This is Ellie Miller from BBC's Broadchurch.
Detective Ellie Miller from BBC Broadchurch - 20th March 2023
In the TV series, she has brown eyes. But in both fanfics and comics, her eyes are malachite green.
Beginning | Previous | Next
Самый первый детектив, который был мной прочитан. Первая часть из серии книг Андреаса Грубера про комиссара мюнхенской полиции Сабину Немез и психолога-криминалиста Мартена С. Снейдера. Очень увлекательная история, которая как всегда начинается с убийства. Убийства виртуозные, даже искусные. Самое прикольное, что убийца в книге руководствуется сборником детских коротких сказок "Штрувельпетер". Под раздачу убийцы попадают все : Сабина, точнее её мама. Практикующий психолог Хелен. Странная женщина Роза, которая в последствии выдаёт себя не за того человека, которым представляется изначально. Динамика происходящего очень яркая, движущая. Много флешбеков, которые проясняют некоторые моменты. Леденящий душу повороты. Книга меня затянула настолько, что я не могла оторваться. И только читала, читала, читала. А потом ещё узнала, что есть дополнительно четыре книги, с главными персонажами Сабиной и Снейдером. О которых я тоже обязательно распишу :)
One of my favorite things is when mystery movies/shows use classical music in the background to add suspense. It’s just- so good. It sounds amazing. It looks amazing. It’s amazing.
Like I’m specifically envisioning like- 18-1900s, a detective in a library/private study where the bookshelves go floor to ceiling, the detective is holding a teacup and the classical music is in the background and the detective is working on something, or maybe even like- reading a letter that’s some kind of threat and trying to solve the mystery to save someone or himself and like- it’s seriously on of my favorite things.
I’m really bad at explaining my thoughts but that’s pretty much it rn ;-;
A Not So Average Night
CW: Minor character death
Next: Definitely Not A Mouse
————-
Tiny feet padded quietly through the dark tunnels. Particles of dust swirled through the paths as the sudden movement disturbed them. The air was stale and musty after being blocked from the outside world for so long, but that never bothered its resident.
The almost silent sound of tiny footsteps stopped and a minuscule brown hand pushed a kitchen tile out of the way. The 3.7-inch borrower poked his head out of the walls and surveyed his surroundings before cautiously stepping onto the open counter. The resident humans had called it a night, giving Tucker plenty of time to scavenge what he can.
He walked across the counter as his eyes scanned the area for any packages of food left out. His food stores have depleted immensely over the last few weeks. For some reason, the humans have been out of the house more often which meant less food in the home. Tucker had been forced to eat the tiniest amounts so he at least had a little bit of energy. His stomach rumbled loudly at the reminder.
Frowning, he squinted through the darkness towards the table in the middle of the kitchen. His brown eyes lit up at the most incredible sight in the world: an open bag full of chips left on the table.
Without missing a beat, the borrower unlatched his fishhook from his satchel and jammed it into the edge of the counter. He let the clear fishing line fall from his fingers all the way to the floor before scaling down himself. Leather boots landed silently on the tiled floor, and with a flick of his wrist, the hook detached from the counter high above him. Tucker caught the hook in midair with practiced ease after so many years of the same repetitive motions.
The small man wasted no time running across the open floor to the table as fast as his legs would carry him. The instincts ingrained in Tucker's mind screamed at him to find cover and stick by the walls, but he stubbornly continued through the quicker route through the middle of the room. There was no point in wasting valuable time when there were no signs of the human couple.
Tucker reached the looming table and hurriedly started swinging his hook to latch onto the table. With a quick tug to ensure the hook wouldn't pop out on him, Tucker confidently scaled the cliff-like height with expert speed.
The yellow bag sat nearby and Tucker's mouth watered. It was like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert. He crouched down to peer inside the bag which was completely full of the greasy chips. Very carefully, Tucker crawled into the bag. Each movement slow and precise as he entered the aluminum cave and made his way to the chips. He shifted ever so slightly to his knees and cautiously pulled a chip closer to him. Tucker grimaced as the bag crinkled loudly around him. To Tucker, It might as well had been an alarm announcing the borrower's presence.
His heart rate spiked and he froze like a deer in headlights. His little hands clutching the chip to his chest like it was a life raft as Tucker anxiously listened for any human noises coming from the bedroom.
Tucker waited with bated breath for what felt like an eternity before deeming himself safe. He hung his head and willed his body to stop shaking for a moment. Glaring at the chip that nearly got him caught, he dragged the chip into the open air using more care than ever before.
The borrower eventually made it out with his prize in hand and backed a good couple inches away from the crinkly bag. There, he began breaking the yellow chip into smaller pieces and stuffed them into his satchel. Grease coated his hands and clothes, but the satchel heavy with food was more than worth it.
Tucker uncoiled his string from around his shoulder as he jogged towards the edge of the table. He smiled to himself as he neared the edge. This was going to be his most efficient borrowing trip yet.
Until he heard a loud squeak of a door across the small home.
Frantic brown eyes shot towards the door to the bedroom as the woman quietly tiptoed out of the room. She quickly, but carefully, made her way to the kitchen, the occasional floorboard creaking under her weight.
Tucker wasted no time breaking into a mad dash towards the closest cover and all but dove into the bag of chips. The plastic crinkled loudly around him and he grimaced. He desperately hoped her mind was tired enough to drown out whatever noise he made. Tucker inched further into the bag with ragged breaths, curling into a small ball. His eyes watered and his throat stung from the greasy salt coating him and his surroundings.
The overhead light flicked on and the ground shook slightly from her footsteps. The sound of her rummaging through the fridge was drowned out by the blood roaring in Tucker's ears. His heart couldn't keep up with the panic coursing through his entire body. He was in the absolute worst hiding spot ever! All she had to do was peer inside and she'll spot him, then he would either end up dead or a pet. Tucker couldn't decide which fate was worse.
Just calm down. She hasn't found you yet. You've gotten out of tough situations before. He reminded himself. Tucker focused on his frantic breaths and managed to slow them down to a more manageable level. His watery eyes watched the bag's opening with trepidation. His fingers curled around the nail strapped to his satchel as he mentally prepared himself to use the weapon against the giant. Of course, he knew it wouldn't really do much against her but he'd rather go down swinging than begging.
He remained crouched and silently listened as she continued searching for something. The seconds seemed to tick by excruciatingly slow when she finally whispered "a-ha!" And something clunked onto the counter. It took a few minutes for her to finish whatever she was doing before turning back to tiptoe to her room.
Tucker let his head hang down in relief as he waited for the click of the bedroom door signaling she was gone. He needed to go back into the walls as soon as possible. It was a miracle he made it out of this situation unscathed and Tucker was in no hurry to test his luck. He heard a click in the distance and began creeping out of the bag.
"Huh? What are y-" The shock was clear in the human woman's voice.
Tucker froze, half of his body out of the bag. His muscles tensed and his heart slammed against his rib cage. His eyes frantically searched for the human that undoubtedly found him while he mentally prepared for death.
"What are you doing?" She demanded.
Her voice came from a different room and Tucker sighed in relief. He held a hand over his heart. At this rate he'll die from a heart attack rather than a human or rat. It was tempting to try and run to one of his many entrances in the walls, but he knew the risk was too high. As his parents explained to him time and time again; one wrong move could be the end of every single borrower. Tucker begrudgingly ducked back into the greasy, crinkly bag to wait out whatever was happening. Hopefully it will be quick.
"Go away!" The human yelled, her voice becoming louder and louder. Floorboards creaked as she hurriedly moved around the house.
"You know why I'm here." Said a new voice. It was a man's, but it was too deep to belong to the resident male.
Tucker's hand tightened on his weapon at the realization there was an unknown human in the house. His breaths became shorter and shorter as the ever-present fear seeped into his body. He backed further into the bag as the ground beneath him shook violently. The woman appeared in front of the table, her lower half being the only thing visible from Tucker's limited line of sight. Her hands were curled into fists and her chest heaved with panicked breaths.
"J, Don't do this!" She pleaded.
The shaking ground signaled the arrival of the stranger. "I love you," he stated quietly.
Shivers ran down Tucker's spine from the way the stranger said it. The words weren't filled with love and warmth and adoration, they were cold and desperate. And from the way the woman shook, she recognized the stranger's alarming behavior as well. Tucker found himself feeling bad for the resident human. Fear was an everyday thing for a borrower, it's what kept them alive, but she didn't deserve to feel the same way. The stranger was obviously dangerous and Tucker could only hope the resident male will wake up and help before it was too late.
She quickly raised her fist in preparation to punch him, but the stranger's hand closed around her wrist before she could do anything. Tucker winced as the hand squeezed harder and harder to the point where the woman's tan skin was turning white. She struggled against the grip but he never let up.
"Stev-" she began to desperately scream for her mate. The stranger swiftly grabbed her hair with his other hand and slammed her head onto the table. Then again. And again.
Tucker gasped and toppled over from the force. He heard a crunch, but he wasn't sure if it was the chips around him or the woman's head. A shadow covered the opening of the bag and he fearfully glanced up. Instead of a hand coming for him, he met the eyes of the woman whose head laid on the table not even a foot away from Tucker. Blood pooled around her and her cheeks were stained with tears as a gloved hand held her in place. Her hazel eyes were pleading as she weakly stared at the tiny man inside the bag.
The borrower didn't know what to do. He was just spotted by a human, an extremely powerful being compared to him. But she was hurt. Her large eyes were losing focus as more and more blood settled around her head. There was a strange temptation inside Tucker to help her. He had to stop the bleeding or get help or something! But that would be impossible. He was just a borrower living a life unnoticed.
All he could do was stare into her teary eyes and hope the sympathetic look on his face told her he was sorry.
Her lips parted, and if Tucker didn't have excellent hearing, he would have never heard her last words: "Josh," she said weakly as her eyes closed.
A door slammed in the distance followed by rapid footsteps. "Kirstie!" The resident human male shouted.
The stranger let go of her head and she collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. As the man's frantic footsteps grew closer the stranger fled the scene, leaving just as quietly as he came in. The only sign of him ever being there was the bloody scene the husband walked in on.
—————
Time passed slowly. Red and blue lights flashed through the window blinds as humans wearing identical uniforms searched the kitchen. There were loud clicks followed by bright white flashes that occasionally blinded him.
Tucker remained curled up in the bag of chips. He had managed to move a large chip in front of him for cover if anyone decided to check the bag. He also tugged the hood of his black poncho over his short afro to hopefully blend in better with the shadows. Tucker's muscles were tense and primed to run at any moments notice.
This was supposed to be a quick and easy borrowing trip, he groused to himself. His stomach rumbled and he held a hand over it as if it could muffle the noise. Even though he was surrounded by food, he hadn't eaten anything yet. With all the excitement and humans hustling around he couldn't risk making more noise than necessary. Tucker was used to being hungry anyways, a few more hours couldn't hurt.
A deep voice knocked Tucker out of his thoughts. The room growing quiet as the human spoke, "What do we got?" The man demanded, his voice was confident and authoritative.
He crouched in front of the table where the body presumably laid, putting him in Tucker's line of sight. Tucker noticed he wore different clothes and less gear than the others. His skin was pale and his black hair was cut short. And his eyes made Tucker forget how to breathe. They were icy blue, their intense stare seemed to pierce through everything they looked at.
A woman cleared her throat, "Her name is Kirstin Blum, 32 years old."
The scary man scanned the crime scene, his icy gaze briefly passing over Tucker's hiding place. The borrower curled into a smaller ball behind the chip. He could have sworn he felt a chill go up his spine as the eyes passed over him. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, the salt and grease covering him definitely wasn't doing him any favors.
"Alright," the man rumbled after a few moments. He rose back up to a stand, putting his face high above Tucker and out of sight. The small man's shoulders slumped slightly when those eyes disappeared. "We got any suspects?" He asked.
"Yes detective Lassiter, the husband. His name is Steven Blum, he was the one who called 911. He's in the backyard." The woman replied.
"Perfect," Lassiter murmured quietly to himself as he walked away. The woman followed behind him, leaving the borrower alone in the kitchen.
Tucker desperately wished no one else would come in. He was tired and scared and hungry and he just wanted to be back in his home in the walls. He could practically hear his comfortable nest calling his name and couldn't wait to curl up inside and sleep for days. Tucker rolled his shoulders and stretched out his legs. They were becoming stiff from staying in the same place for so damn long. He wondered if he'd be able to stand after this ordeal.
Tucker couldn't help a quiet groan when a new human voice cut through the empty room. He reluctantly curled up behind the chip again to wait out the newcomer.
"I could really use some coffee right about now." The voice of a man complained.
"I tried to pick some up! You told me to keep goin'." Another man retorted.
They both walked into Tucker's view, although he could only see two pairs of pants. He could immediately tell they weren't like everyone else who'd come by. They didn't wear any belts full of tools or hold any equipment. He curiously peered through a crack in the chip in front of him to watch the new humans.
The man wearing jeans crouched down, his green eyes carefully scanning the body. "We couldn't just stop, I need to see everything before the cops start moving things around." It was the voice of the first human. He ran a hand through the spike in his short brown hair, "Hey Gus, check the cabinets for coffee pods or something." He whispered up to his friend.
The second human -Gus- hit the man in the shoulder,"There's a dead person here Shawn!" He snapped back.
"I think she'll want me to be awake if I'm gonna solve her murder." Shawn retorted without missing a beat.
Gus stepped away from the body and leaned on the counter further back. He crossed his arms as he looked around the kitchen for clues, but not as intently as Shawn. The man had dark skin that contrasted with his bright blue button up. He seemed slightly shorter than the other human, but that didn't make a difference to Tucker.
"You're just trying to get this girl's ghost to haunt me," he accused. "If you wanna steal coffee from a dead person then be my guest."
Shawn simply huffed and shook his head in resignation. He stopped looking at the body and began examining the pool of blood nearby on the table much to Tucker's dismay. Hopefully the bag of chips he was hiding in didn't spark any interest. Tucker watched with bated breath as the green eyes squinted at all the little details, then finally widening.
He gestured wildly with his hand, "Dude! Get over here!" Shawn exclaimed excitedly.
Gus hurried over and Shawn pointed to a spot on the table. Both humans leaned in, their faces right in front of Tucker's hiding place. All they had to do was look up and they could make the discovery of a lifetime. He hunkered down lower to remain out of sight. The borrower put his hand on his nail and squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to the loud breaths coming from the humans so close by.
Gus' brows furrowed. "What am I looking at?" He asked.
Shawn's large finger came into view as he pointed at more spots, "Right here and here and here. Don't these look like little-"
"What the hell are you two doing here?" A deep voice demanded. Tucker recognized it as the scary man's voice from earlier: Detective Lassiter.
Both humans stood straight up, giving Tucker the confidence to breathe again without alerting the giants.
"Hey Lassie," Shawn drawled with a smile in his voice. "We didn't know you were here too. What a coincidence." He said innocently.
Gus smiled beside him, "If we had known I would have picked you up something to eat." He added.
The ground shook as the scary man stepped into the kitchen. "This is my crime scene. I don't need two idiot consultants contaminating everything." He growled.
"Since when have we ever done such a thing?" Shawn sounded absolutely offended. If he was scared of the icy blue eyes piercing through him, he definitely didn't show it. He then leaned over to peer behind the taller detective, "Is Juliet here?" He asked eagerly.
"Out." Lassiter stated with no room to argue. He grabbed Shawn's arm and tugged at the flannel shirt he was wearing to usher him out the room.
Shawn loudly complained and resisted being dragged away. "But you need our help!" He protested as he dug his feet into the floor.
"No I don't. We already caught the killer."
Tucker perked up at that. The bag crinkled softly around him and he winced. Luckily no one seemed to notice over the commotion Shawn was causing. He knew this meant the humans will leave and Tucker will soon be the only one in the house.
"Really? Who was it?" Gus asked from the side as he casually watched Lassiter and Shawn struggle. It was clear he also wanted to leave, probably because of the corpse still in the room.
Lassiter finally gave up and let Shawn free his wrist from his grip. He pointedly straightened his black suit jacket before answering, "Steven, the husband. I'm going to take him back to the station and get a confession."
The borrower balked at that conclusion. How in the world did they think the husband did it? Wasn't it their whole job to find the right person? Humans were dumber than he initially thought.
Something in the back of his mind urged him to come out and tell them the truth. How else are they supposed to figure it out if their best hope is in cuffs. But it was a human issue that had nothing to do with him. It's not Tucker's fault humans are destructive beings that hurt everyone and everything they come across. With that in mind, the last thing he was about to do was reveal the existence of borrowers to the world just to get justice for one human.
Shawn briefly seemed to consider what the detective said before his hands suddenly shot up to the sides of his head. He rested his pointer fingers against his temple and closed his eyes. "I'm having a vision!" He declared.
Lassiter started shaking his head and resumed his efforts to drag Shawn out of the room. "No! No psychic bullshit in my crime scene!" He protested angrily.
The man promptly ignored the detective. His left hand hovering over the victim lying on the ground. Tucker leaned slightly forwards and watched in complete bewilderment as the man waved his hand in circular motions in the air.
"I sense..... ow!" He suddenly held his left hand to the side of his head, stumbling out of the detective’s grip. "I sense the killer hit her head against the table over and over again, until she was dead." Shawn slowly walked closer to the table, his eyes scanning the surface once more. Once he seemed to find what he was looking for, he closed his eyes again with his hand still on his temple. "I'm getting something else.... Steven is not the killer." Shawn concluded confidently, opening his eyes.
Tucker was left speechless. How did the human do that? He just waved his hand around and knew the correct answer. A pit of worry grew inside of him. What if the strange human found him by doing the same thing. Tucker swallowed nervously and resisted the urge to make more noise by adding more chips in front of him for cover.
Gus glanced at Shawn with a quirked brow. At this point he knew better than to question his friend, but it's always the husband in the shows. He was definitely looking forward to hearing what Shawn found. It had to be something good.
However, the detective was less than pleased with that theory. "Really?" Lassiter's lips formed a tight smile. "Do you have any evidence someone else was in the house? 'Cause I can tell you right now there was no forced entry and nothing was stolen."
Shawn didn't flinch under the man's menacing tone, instead he gave him a cocky grin. "Not right now, but I will prove it wasn't Steven. The spirits never lie." He turned towards his friend still standing near the counter. "Right Gus!" He said and gave Gus a hard pat on the back.
Gus, who was completely unprepared for the force of the action, stumbled forward and ran right into the detective. While Lassiter was busying keeping both him and Gus from falling to the floor, Shawn snatched the bag of chips off the table. He hid it behind his back as he strode out the door before Lassiter can give him a piece of his mind.
Gus hurriedly apologized and ran after him, barely avoiding the string of curses coming from the detective's mouth.
Witness To A Crime
Our two favorite idiots are starting to develop more brain cells when it comes to interacting with a borrower! Or at least one of them is…
First: A Not So Average Night
Previous: Definitely Not A Mouse
Next Chapter Coming Soon!
—————
For Tucker, the question of what to do with him hung in the air for an eternity. His panic rising every second the pale human stared at his belongings. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the pink eraser coming back to poke him in the side again. Tucker quickly backed up with his hands outstretched in front of him, fully expecting to be jabbed no matter what. Instead, the pencil stopped a few inches from him before dropping to the desk. Tucker cast a nervous glance up at Gus and his brows furrowed. The human's eyes almost seemed.... guilty. But that can't be right. Humans don't feel guilt for those deemed inferior.
Finally, Shawn looked up from Tucker's satchel. His eyes were torn away from Gus as he watched the human's huge, clumsy fingers place his bag on the opposite side of the desk. He desperately wanted to run over there and make sure nothing was destroyed, but the four large eyes fixated on him kept his feet glued to the ground.
Tucker didn't know what to do. The humans stared at him like he's some sort of anomaly. His fingers itched for the comforting weight of his nail and the leather that made up his satchel, but with all his possessions stolen away from him, he just stared at his boots instead.
"Let's talk about that somewhere else." Shawn said ominously.
Tucker's heart dropped all the way to the floor. What do they mean 'talk somewhere else'? What don't they want him to hear? It's not like he can do anything to stop what they're planning. His breathing quickened as he watched Shawn start rummaging through the nearby kitchen cabinets, hiding whatever he grabbed behind his back.
They're going to kill him.
His vision quickly blurred with tears as he watched Shawn's massive form approach with an object that will surely crush the borrower to a bloody pulp. The ground shook with every step as death came closer and closer. Tucker wanted to call out to the giant and beg him to spare his small life. However, his voice got caught in his throat as the shadow of the human's arm enveloped him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and braced his body for the pain. Something fell over him with a loud clang that echoed all around him. Tucker slowly opened his eyes and warily glanced at his new surroundings, frowning as he found himself inside of a large glass cup. He slowly crept forward and placed his hands on the cool glass, slightly pushing against it to test if it was light enough to budge. Of course, it wasn't.
Gus muttered something that was too quiet and distorted to make out in his new prison. Tucker watched as both humans rose to their towering heights and left him alone in the room. He could just barely hear their booming voices in the room beyond, but there was no doubt they were discussing if they should keep him or kill him.
Tucker wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve, his gaze hardening. He had to get out of there before the humans were done discussing his fate. He backed to the opposite side of the glass, took a deep breath, and sprinted full force into the wall. He rammed his shoulder into the glass with all his strength and tumbled onto his back from the force. The cup didn't moved at all.
Full of determination, Tucker rammed into the glass again and again and again. Sweat beaded his forehead and his now bruised shoulder throbbed in pain, but the terror of his unknown fate pushed him on. Blinded by his goal, Tucker failed to notice when the humans returned.
"Whoa whoa whoa!" Gus rushed towards the cup as he watched the little guy sprint into the glass. He knew the little fella wasn't afraid to fight back after what he did to Shawn's finger, but Gus would have never imagined he would hurt himself like this.
The desk underneath shook violently and it was only then Tucker realized the humans were back. He stumbled onto his rear and scrambled backwards in terror as a giant hand reached towards his prison. His back hit the glass yet he still desperately tried to push himself further away from their towering forms. Air wasn't reaching his lungs and his heart hammered against his chest as the enormous fingers curled around the glass.
In a panic, he dove towards the middle of his prison as the fingers tightened around the glass. Cool air washed over him when the cup was lifted into the sky, but it was hardly refreshing as he fearfully waited for whatever cruel punishment the humans came up with. He remained fearfully curled up in a pathetic ball on the desk.
They decided to kill me, Tucker realized. Why else would they let me go.
A near inaudible whimper escaped his trembling lips when the humans lowered themselves to the floor, putting their menacing gazes closer to his cowering form. Without a weapon or his hook, he was trapped and at the human's complete mercy, one of which he stabbed. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes as the severity of the situation sunk in. He's dead. He's dead. He's so dead.
The bigger human cleared his throat gaining Tucker's attention. With brown eyes full of sympathy, he addressed Tucker. "Can you talk or understand what I'm saying?" His voice was gentle and smooth, but there was still a hint of concern.
Shivers went down Tucker's spine. The giants were asking their questions now. They are going to try and figure out what he is so they can find more borrowers. Tucker will be responsible for the extinction of his people, or even worse, the domestication of borrowers. As terrified as he was, Tucker knew he had to follow the two remaining rules to keep his people safe: Don't talk and don't tell them what you are. Tucker slowly sat up, and although his body felt like jelly, he met the human's eyes. He will not cooperate no matter how much they scare him.
After getting no indication the little guy understood a lick of English, Gus gave Shawn a questioning glance only to be given a shrug in return. It looked like it was all on him to figure out how to communicate with the little man.
He made sure the tiny eyes were on him before gesturing to himself, "I'm Gus," he spoke extremely slowly with a tone used for toddlers. Gus rested a hand on the paler human's shoulder next to him, "Shawn," he introduced simply.
Shawn awkwardly waved his hand causing Tucker to flinch back. The giant hand immediately shot down and out of sight along with a quiet apology from the human. The borrower curled his legs up to his chest and took a few deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart.
Upon noticing the tiny guy's jumpy reaction, Gus decided to stop gesturing with his hands and simply placed them on his lap. Instead, he nodded his head towards his friend again and repeated their names. They waited for the little guy to catch on and parrot their names back to them, or say his own name, but he just sat there silently watching.
"Of course he doesn't know English, nothing is that easy." Shawn grumbled under his breath.
Gus jabbed him in the side with an elbow, "Knock it off. You probably scared him too much." He accused with a glare.
"Me? You scared him just as much." Shawn retorted, clearly annoyed for being thrown under the bus.
Gus crossed his arms, "You brought him here to begin with."
"Yeah, 'cause he witnessed a murder." Shawn countered.
"That doesn't mean you can just kidnap people, Shawn."
While the giants bickered, Tucker slowly rose to his feet and began creeping back. Humans always get angry and destructive when they fight, and he wanted to be far away when that started. Thankfully they seemed to forget he was even there, until something loudly crunched under his boot. Grimacing, he slowly lifted his foot to see a chip crumb crushed into even smaller pieces. Tucker wanted to smack himself in the face. He completely forgot about the bag of chips being dumped out earlier after all the excitement.
The four giant eyes snapped back to him. Tucker braced himself and waited to be crushed in a fist or smacked off the table as punishment for trying to leave. But it never came. Cautiously, he peeked his eyes open to see the humans just sitting there watching him. They looked upset.... But they seemed to be upset for him. That doesn't make any sense.
Tucker gingerly stepped away from the crumb that got him caught. He kept his eyes trained on the humans as he slowly moved a few inches to the side, testing the waters with each step. All they did was loom over him as they silently watched him inch towards a pen holder. With a beat of hesitation, Tucker stepped behind it and crouched out of site from human eyes.
"Alright.... I don't think he wants to try talking to us." Gus stated with a frown. He could see the little guy's boot poking out the side, but he wasn't about to say that out loud. If he wants to hide then he will let him hide. Both men sat back against the green wall of their office, just tall enough to see the desk's surface while sitting.
Shawn drummed his fingers on his knee, quickly growing agitated from the lack of progress. He stayed silent for about five seconds before he opened his mouth. "Do you think he's a wingless fairy or a leprechaun?"
Gus thought it over for a moment. "He's definitely a wingless fairy," he decided.
"You sure? I feel like fairies are far more peaceful and mystical than this little guy."
"Im positive. There's no pot of gold or Lucky Charms here, and he isn't ginger."
Shawn looked at Gus with wide eyes, "Wow dude. Stereotyping? Seriously?" He shook his head in mock shame, "leprechauns don't have to like gold or Lucky Charms. It's the twentieth century!" He defended the very unreal creatures.
"Well not all fairies have to be pacifists." Gus countered.
Shawn glanced to the side. "Fine, we'll just have to ask him what he is. Loser has to pay for lunch"
"Deal." Gus agreed with no hesitation.
The room turned back to silence as they debated on what to do now. It wasn't like there was a guidebook on how to interact with a terrified, tiny person that may or may not understand English. So both men just awkwardly sat on the wooden floor waiting for something to happen.
That's when Shawn finally noticed the little brown boot sticking out from the hiding spot. He smiled in amusement, "His boot is sticking out!"
Right when the words left his mouth, the boot disappeared behind the pencil holder. His eyes widened and Gus let out a small gasp. They turned towards each other, then right back to the desk.
Shawn was already back on his knees right in front of the desk before Gus could stop him. "You can understand us!" Despite the early morning hour, he was bubbling with excitement. He eagerly waited for the little guy to come out talk to them now that they knew.
Tucker couldn't stop his body from shaking. That was such a brainless move! Once he heard they can still see him, he instinctively pulled his foot in. Who wouldn't in this situation? But he immediately realized his mistake when the humans gasped.
He curled further into himself, making his already tiny frame even smaller. Tucker couldn't catch his breath and his eyesight was growing splotchy. What are they going to do to him now? Are they mad? Will they torture answers out of him, or will they study him?
Tucker flinched closer to the silver tin behind him as Shawn's loud voice broke the brief silence. He was so so dead. He hugged his black poncho closer to his body in the hopes for even a small sense of comfort, but tears still threatened to fall down his dark cheeks. How did a simple borrowing trip turn into such a nightmare?
In front of the desk, Gus grabbed Shawn's shoulder and forced him back down onto his rear. "Quit it! He's scared enough as it is without your big head getting in his space." He scolded.
"But-"
"Shawn." Gus warned, cutting him off before he came up with an excuse.
He threw his arms up before crossing them and leaning back against the wall, pouting like a child. When Gus was sure Shawn wouldn't try anything else, at least for a little bit, he turned his attention back to the desk.
"I'm sorry about him," his voice was now calm and collected. He made sure to speak quietly as to not scare the little guy even more. "Listen, we don't want to hurt you or imprison you. We just need to know what happened to Kirstin back at the house." Gus paused in the hopes he would hear a tiny voice, but there was no noise besides the air conditioner whirring to combat the hot Santa Barbara air.
Gus hesitated briefly before he continued, "The sooner you tell us, the sooner you can go back home." He promised gently, even if that wasn't entirely true.
Tucker shifted uncomfortably as he listened to Gus' words. This human definitely seemed nicer than the other one, but he still made no move to come out. The psychic already figured out the truth back at the house, why would they need Tucker's recollection of the killing? Especially if Shawn can read his mind with his scary power. No, this was definitely a trap to get him talking.
"Can you at least tell us your name?" Gus probed.
No I won't, Tucker internally refused. He fidgeted with the long sleeve of his dark gray shirt, absentmindedly sticking his finger through the growing hole near the wrist. He briefly wondered if he would ever have an opportunity to repair it.
Shawn clicked his tongue when they still received no answer from behind the tin pencil holder. Gus' usual smooth-talking was clearly not gonna work in this case. But there's a way to get even the most stubborn person to talk, you just need to push the right button.
He glanced over to the bag of chips where they found the little guy in the first place. It was definitely one of the last places you would hide in if you were trying to avoid being found by humans. The little guy was probably already in the bag before any humans showed up, and he didn't have time to move to a better spot before Shawn found him.
Shawn's mind flashed back to the little fella's appearance, mostly how skinny he seemed compared to his height. It was clear he didn't have access to much food, and he was most likely trying to take some chips right before Kirstin was murdered.
He frowned. The little guy was starving and they're keeping him from eating any food. Maybe he'll gain his trust if he showed him they only want to help. Without a word, Shawn slowly shuffled on his knees closer to the desk.
"Do you want something to eat?" He asked, copying the way his friend lowered his voice when talking. Although, it was mostly aimed at Gus so he would know what he was doing before he got dragged back again. Gus warily watched as Shawn plucked up a large chip and carefully placed it by the pencil holder. He immediately pulled his hand back and eagerly watched for any movement with bated breath.
As a shadow moved over his hiding place, Tucker scrambled as far away as he can. He squeezed his eyes shut and his body tensed for large fingers to close around him and drag him out of hiding. Instead, he heard something softly land on the desk. Peeking his brown eyes open, Tucker noticed a chip as big as his torso sitting innocently a few inches from the pencil holder.
He frowned critically. The humans were clearly trying to lure him out of hiding. Do they seriously think he's some brainless pet who will trust them after receiving one scrap of food? Still, Tucker's empty stomach growled at the mere sight of food and his mouth began to water.
He hasn't eaten anything since the previous morning and it was really starting to get to him. It was tempting to just run out, snatch the chip, and go back into hiding. They know of his existence after all. But the thought of stepping in sight of the humans, even for a moment, made him feel sick.
Tucker turned away from the chip before he made any rash decisions. He can last a bit longer without food and water. Unfortunately his stomach disagreed and loudly complained about his choice, making his cheeks burn pink in embarrassment.
"I know you're hungry. At least grab a bite before Gus eats it all." Shawn joked hoping to lighten up the mood.
This, instead, sent terror shooting through Tucker. The psychic can really read my mind... he thought to himself.
He swallowed nervously. He needs food. Badly. If they really wanted to hurt him, they would have done so long ago. Tucker wouldn't be able to do anything to stop them. He got up to his feet in a crouch with his eyes locked onto the chip. He wouldn't have to speak to them and break any rules, he's just gonna grab some food. Everything will be fine.
With that in mind, Tucker slowly stepped towards the edge of his hiding spot. He gingerly reached a hand out to see if he could just reach it and drag it back, but it was placed just far enough where he had to walk out. Cursing under his breath, Tucker stepped out.
He tried to ignore the humans' gasps and the sound of fabric shifting from their clothes. Tucker kept his eyes trained on the chip as he picked it up and held it to his chest. Tucker took a few steps back towards his hiding spot, but when neither human made a move to grab him, he stopped.
It took everything in the two friends to not jump around and dance when the little guy didn't go back into hiding. Instead, they smiled and fist-bumped in a subtle celebration. Progress was slowly but surely being made. As long as they stayed on their best behavior....
Even though he was nearly shaking with excitement, Gus still managed to keep up his calm demeanor. "Would you like any water with that?" He asked, his professional mannerisms kicking in.
The little guy shook his head side to side while keeping his eyes on his boots. He tentatively took a small nibble out of the chip.
Gus nodded, "Just let me know if you need anything." He paused for a moment before adding, "I'm glad you decided to come out of hiding. I know it must've been hard." He tried to sound as sincere as possible.
Tucker finally pried his eyes off the floor and glanced up at the humans. His heart jolted when he made eye contact and he nearly beelined straight back towards his hiding place. Until he noticed the sincerity in Gus' eyes. No matter how hard humans try, they can't fake their emotions towards borrowers. Their faces are so big they're like billboards advertising how they feel. Borrowers are able to see every twitch of a lip and flick of an eye to know one's true intentions. And Gus was truly being sincere.
He paused for a moment before nodding his head in response to the human, although 'hard' seemed like a major understatement.
Gus frowned slightly at that. "Well," he began, "Like I said before; once you tell us what happened to Kirstin you can go home."
Tucker almost let himself become hopeful when he noticed the human brown eyes quickly flick to the left. His eyes narrowed. Gus was lying to him. They're just trying to trick him into talking. His feet shifted in preparation to run back to cover when the psychic piped up.
"Relax, I get it. You have a fear of public speaking," Shawn said with a smirk. "Just nod your head yes or no if Kirstin's husband murdered her." His voice was full of confidence despite his quiet volume.
Dammit! How could I forget he can read my mind. Out of fear of what the psychic might do to him with his strange abilities, Tucker forced himself to stand in place. They already knew he could understand them, no more damage was being done. With his lips still sealed, he quickly answered the question and shook his head 'no'.
Shawn perked up, "C'mon, son!" He exclaimed triumphantly. He pointed a finger at Gus, "I told you it wasn't Steven!" He said with a smile as if he wasn't discussing a murder.
Gus rolled his eyes, "Sure, it's not the husband for once. But how do you plan on proving this to the police?" He cast a glance at the tiny man, who was now covering his ears from Shawn's outburst. Gus frowned at the fear he still showed them. Why can't he see they won't hurt him?
"Don't worry. Once we find the real murderer everything will fall into place." Shawn said with a smug smile.
He crossed his arms, "And how do we do that, Shawn? There's no other suspects."
Shawn nodded his head towards the tiny guy on the desk. "We have a witness right here." He answered simply.
"He won't even talk to us." Gus pointed out.
Tucker flinched as both humans turned their attention back on him. His eyes nervously danced between the two, but rested on Shawn as the human shuffled closer to the desk. Tucker clutched the chip even tighter to his chest and it cracked under his fingers.
"Hey little guy!" Shawn cooed as his face got even closer to him.
Tucker's breathing quickened and his heart started up its raid pounding again.
"Wanna make a deal?" He continued with a voice used to address toddlers. "You can go back into the walls once you tell us who killed Kirstin." Shawn said innocently as if it was the best deal in the world.
Tucker stopped breathing for a moment. His heart fell to the empty pit of his stomach. He stared blankly at the human with his mouth hanging open. "....What?" He whispered in complete shock. Tucker shouldn't be surprised the psychic read his mind to find out where he lived, but it still left him feeling dizzy. The human was threatening him now. He's gonna tear open the walls and kill his people and it's all going to be Tucker's fault. If he complies, will the human spare his people?
Tucker swallowed thickly but his throat was still dry. It wasn't fair. He did everything right once he was caught; He never uttered a word to the humans or told them he's a borrower. But of course he got caught by that damn psychic.
He stared at the humans through teary eyes, ignoring the way their giant faces lit up when he uttered his first word. Taking a shaky breath, he opened his mouth. "I'll tell you what'cha wanna know as long as you don't hurt my people." Tucker demanded, but his voice sounded so weak and pathetic compared to the humans.
He waited with bated breath as he watched the humans register what he just said. Hopefully Tucker was making the right call.
!!!!! A friend!
Tiny needle felted Gumshoe I made for a friend! He's only two inches tall!
Ibid: Art by Adam Murphy
Tintin Meets The Detectives
Art by Adam Murphy
Kyoko and Shuichi
detective bisexuals