narianders-gt-hell

[narianders-gt-hell]

Learning To Be Seen --- [COMM]

Commission For @synapticabyss

The world and characters within belong wholly to them.

Word Count: 5939

Summary: Yrsa has been friends with Letanno for several months, yet she has never seen his face. Letanno insists that the mask if for everyone else's sake more than his own, but Yrsa suspects that he may be blowing things out of proportion.

After all, most things about Letanno are blown out of proportion.

Additional Context: Normal Human Man has been isekai'd into an alternate universe inhabited by small, cartoonish looking people with simple, smooth features. No one seems to know him or understand why he and a large mysterious door appeared out of nowhere several months back.

Content: Size Difference, Elements of Fear, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

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The quiet route home was, in many ways, the safest option.

At least, this is what Yrsa told herself as she kept her eyes on the worn dirt path that cut through the trees instead of her present company. She wasn’t by any means ignoring him, in fact Yrsa rather enjoyed hanging out with the strange giant that was Letanno. He certainly made work more interesting if nothing else, especially on delivery days when she could shoot the breeze while the large, masked man unloaded incoming stock and organized the back room. Sure, it could be said that the looming figure of a being whose face you couldn’t so much as peek at was hard to read, and even a touch unsettling by nature, but as the days and weeks went on Yrsa found it harder and harder to care. Letanno, for all his dreary demeanor, was nothing if not incredibly polite, possessing an inherent kindness and sharp wit that she could not help but find endearing.

This was all to say, it hadn’t seemed all that strange when he began to walk her home after their shifts, if for no other reason than to keep the conversation going. Yrsa had survived long enough on her own to not feel the need for the likes of an escort, however, it couldn’t be denied that there was an unspoken security in knowing that if something were to happen…

Well. No matter how prepared you are, having an intimidating masked giant on your side certainly couldn’t hurt.

Regardless, they weren’t walking through the woods for her own comfort or safety anyway; it was Letanno that hated the crowded routes of curious gazes. Some things were unavoidable of course, there was only so much you could do to hide a person twice the size of anyone else around, but there were enough blessedly secluded areas of Port Ulrika that they could walk most of the way between the grocery store and the place Yrsa called home without seeing another living soul.

It was nice, really, once she’d gotten over her initial nerves in his presence. It was hard to feel large heavy footfalls just behind you and think of them as anything but threatening, but Letanno had never given her a reason to actually feel threatened. He could be dismal, nervous, and a bit of a mystery to her at times, but he was pretty far from being something she would ever consider dangerous.

Maybe with time he would come to believe it himself, but Yrsa wasn’t going to hold her breath while waiting for the day to come. Something about the cloaked figure that was her newest friend told her that he wasn’t someone who would come around on that sort of thought very easily.

He still hadn’t even come close to showing her his own face.

Which was fine! It was totally and completely fine. Yrsa by no means felt entitled to seeing his face or anything like that. He was far from being the first person she’d ever met with a disability or a strange birth defect, though none had ever been as extreme as his, and she understood that the world at large could be less than kind about these things no matter how good anyone’s intentions might be. This was all to say that it wasn’t so hard for her to grasp that in many cases, it was simply easier to hide, and she assumed that had to be the case for the giant. Whatever Letanno had going on, it was apparently worth all the trouble and discomfort of covering himself from head to toe.

However, this did not stop her from developing an insatiable curiosity over it. Every time they hung out together, Yrsa found herself stealing glances at the other when she thought he wasn’t looking, each one sparking a new theory as to what in the world could be going on under the mask he was so insistent on wearing.

…

It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

She didn’t have much to go on, but nothing she could glean suggested that it would be awful. His voice — the one and only thing he couldn’t hide from her aside from his own outline — was pleasant enough, albeit much louder and larger than she was used to, even when he managed a whisper. Over the last several months she’d become more and more familiar with his sense of humor as well as the kindness that he afforded everyone from herself to the delivery drivers to anyone else. Between all of that, his polite mannerisms, and the consideration he seemed to put into every move, it wasn’t at all hard for her to see that whoever he was under the mask, he was someone rather sweet. No matter how objectively bad he might look, those good qualities would surely, easily, outweigh it.

She just needed to figure out the best way to ask.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried before, she’d tried several variations of asking through thinly veiled jokes to take the weight off of the question, but none of them had ever quite shaken out the way that she had hoped. He would only laugh and wave the idea off like an annoying housefly, joking that he was the most hideous deformed creature to ever walk the world, whatever that actually meant.

Clearly if she wanted to get anywhere with the man,  she would need to be direct.

Working up the courage or sense to be direct, however, was another issue entirely.

“You must get cold pretty easily huh?” She blurted out, eyes widening as she realized just how quickly her mouth had taken it upon itself to get the ball rolling. If she were the luckiest person in the world he somehow wouldn’t have noticed the blatant question breaking the silence in an otherwise empty patch of woods.

Sadly, Yrsa was not the luckiest person in the world, at least not this time.

“…What makes you say that?” asked the gentle voice of the giant.

“Oh, I don’t know, something about how larger bodies means more of you to keep warm, more surface area, that kinda thing.” She shrugged, ducking her head a bit to hide the quick flash of a pained expression that washed across her face. “I mean, you cover up pretty well and all even though we’re closer to summer, and it just seems like-..”

“-That isn’t because I’m cold.” He came to a complete halt with the statement, clearly clueing in that there must be something more to the question. “It’s more that-, I mean-, …well. You know, I’ve told you. You wouldn’t want to know the alternative, I don’t think. It’s for the best, really.”

“Is it?”

“If it isn’t, it’s still a favor to you, me, and everyone else who has to look at me.” He grunted, a tone of attempted finality slipping into his words. In many instances, Yrsa would just take the hint; this was clearly something Letanno was not eager to discuss and would likely never be eager to discuss. It would be a kindness on her part to drop the whole matter entirely.

But still, her curiosity wouldn’t let it go.

“I imagine that’s gotta be hard, or harder than it needs to be, covering up every inch of yourself like that.”

“Most things are harder than they need to be here.” Letanno sighed, his gloved hands sliding into his pockets in an apparent effort to stop his own fidgeting. “That’s sorta the nature of being the beast, you know?”

“You’re not a beast.” Yrsa argued, cutting the idea off as quickly as she could. Despite the fact that he was twice her size, despite the fact that he looked as though he could rip a nearby tree from the ground without so much as a second thought or moment of hesitation, despite the incredible rumbling power that lingered behind every gentle word he spoke… she couldn’t see it, or she couldn’t allow herself to start. If Letanno was something bestial or monstrous it would be a slippery slope to calling just about anyone who wasn’t altogether normal the same. “You’re a person.”

A sigh slipped from the large man, his head tilting skyward in a way that almost conveyed an expression of waning patience or disagreement that she could recognize even without knowing the look of the face that was wearing it. She’d never known Letanno to be someone who was incredibly argumentative, even when she’d pressed him about his mask during previous hangouts, but the gesture still made her brace for a debate.

Much to her own surprise though, the giant conceded fairly easily.

“Yeah, right as always.” He agreed, his sad smile evident in the tone of his voice. “I’d still suggest reconsidering your definition of a person though, just a little.”

“Oh, hold on, let me just…” She began, pressing her eyes shut and scrunching her face in a feigned, comical take on deep thought for a solid few seconds before relaxing her expression once again. “Alright. I’ve given it some thought, and after some very careful consideration and long mental debate, I’ve decided that I’m changing nothing.” Her nose wrinkled as she shot a wide grin up to the mask. It was as expressionless as it always was, and no matter how hard she tried to look past it, she couldn’t even detect a glint of light hitting his eyes.

Nevertheless, she was still fairly confident that he must have cracked a grin back. There were few other ways to read the way he turned away with shaking shoulders, small hints of a barely suppressed chuckle making themselves audible.

“I somehow get the feeling you didn’t actually give that much thought.”

“I’m just that fast. Can’t help it.” Yrsa laughed, taking a few steps backwards to lessen the strain on her neck now that it seemed they were going to be stopped here for a moment. “Sorry friend, but you’re as human as the rest of us whether you want to be or not. Consider yourself considered.”

It could be difficult to hold the reins on a conversation with Letanno, regardless of how tight your grip might be. One moment she could hear his laugh and feel as though she’d won the lottery or some secret game show, and the next he would be back to generating a small invisible rain cloud just above his head. Already it felt as though the moment had passed them both entirely as those massive shoulders began to droop in soft resignation.

“Yeah, well, you’d reconsider if you knew better.” He huffed.

“But I don’t know better. You won’t let me know better.” She snapped back, not wanting to give him much or any room to let even more self doubt blossom. He was clearly being silly about this, overthinking his own deformities and particularities and applying that ever so charming Letanno Style Grim Logic to it all. In truth, the more he did this, the more she began to have some doubts. It wouldn’t be the least bit surprising if the Big Secret was that he had a wonky eye and an acne problem to go along with his absurd size.

It would absolutely track; everything about the man was blown out of proportion, from his scale to his own thoughts.

No matter how certain she was though, it did not make his stance look any less uncomfortable. This didn’t deter her by any means, Yrsa was set in her mission to try and nudge him just slightly past his self imposed boundaries, if only to show him that an invisible shock collar wouldn’t go off if he did, but it wasn’t without an underlying sense of guilt.

‘It’s for his own good.’ She thought to herself, never considering whether or not her own curiosity could be clouding her sense of judgment.

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve got going on under there. For all I know you’re Claude Rains and you’ll take off the mask and show me that you’re actually The Invisible Man or something, but I just can’t help but feel like it isn’t nearly as bad as you’ve let yourself think it is.” She continued, her eyes fixed fearlessly on the large figure before her. If she could show him she was confident, if she could say it boldly enough, then maybe she could start to get through to him on this.

Letanno, however, wasn’t going to make it very easy.

“It’s actually worse than I think it is.” He replied, somehow managing a breathy laugh that had no actual humor or emotion behind it. “I personally don’t think that I look that bad, or… well, I mean I never thought I was particularly good looking or anything but… it’s not me that thinks it’s bad. It’s everyone else that has the problem with it.”

“Really?” She asked with a tilt of her head, her mind trying to fill in the blanks with the absolute nothing she had to go on. “People have been that bad about it? I mean, I can understand there being some jerks here or there but-..”

“What? No, I-… it’s not just some jerks, Yrsa. It’s basically everyone.” He stammered with a slight crack of exasperation. “If it was just a few people I wouldn’t mind so much, or I probably wouldn’t cover up like this but it’s everyone. Everyone here is afraid of me and it just… it gets exhausting, Yrsa.”

The small clearing they stood in went quiet with only a warm wind shuffling brand new leaves to fill the silence. She could understand why he might want to hide, regardless of whether or not he was exaggerating, but it was still difficult to come to terms with the idea that he might not have seen a kind reaction in all his days.

“There has to be someone…” She muttered, eyes now fixed on the space between them as she continued her attempts at wrapping her head around such cruelty. “I mean, even if they’re a minority, even if it’s only been one or two people like… surely there’s been at some point in your life… I dunno. A Doctor. Your Parents. Someone. Surely someone has looked at you and didn’t see a problem.”

An uncomfortable noise slipped out of the other as she spoke, making it quite clear that a doctor, his parents, or someone important had not taken his natural existence very well at all.

It was… sad. Heart shattering really, to think that he might have lived an entire life hiding himself and living in discomfort just to make those closest to him comfortable. Suddenly it didn’t matter whether or not anyone had ever given him the chance or time of day; if the people who should have made him feel safe and comfortable had failed, why should he ever trust anyone else?

“The Paeans.” He croaked, breaking the silence with a voice that sounded as though it wanted desperately to be quieter than it was. “They’ve been… I mean it wasn’t easy or immediate but… they can look at me. They learned to look at me. Joyce doesn’t flinch so much these days and I mean… hell there was a time when Genevieve wouldn’t even let me near her daughter without being somewhere close to watch…”

“Okay, maybe not ideal, but-…”

“Lily still can’t look me in the eyes.” The words had fallen out of him so easily. Clearly, they’d spent an eternity already just barely restrained at the forefront of his mind. “I don’t… it’s not like I need her to look me in the eyes or anything but… still. I’ve seen her try and she can never actually hold it for more than a second or two. It’s too much.” One gloved hand gestured around the whole of himself as he raised his head once more. “I’m too much.”

Yrsa’s mouth opened, the starts of several different sentences flashing through her head all at once. Her own confidence and determination quickly began to wane with this new information, and she no longer felt as though she was doing him any favors. Quite the opposite, she felt almost cruel, headstrong, insistent. Letanno might have been a mystery wrapped up in several riddles, but no matter how much she wanted to unravel him to sate her own curiosity, it wasn’t worth making a man who lived in constant discomfort even more uncomfortable.

Even with her best intentions, she was contributing to the issue.

“I don’t think you’re too much.” She said, brushing away any stray thoughts in her mind about whether or not this was something of a white lie. It was true that by definition he was literally, physically, too much, but not for her. Sure, the size difference between them had taken a little practice to get used to but now? Now he was one of her favorite people to spend time with. If he was truly too much, for her or anyone, the Paeans would have kicked him out already, and she’d scramble for any reason possible to avoid him.

“Well, that makes you an outlier.”

“Mm, maybe so, but I’m willing to bet there’s more of us out there than you think.” She offered the blank, expressionless mask a small smile, hoping with all of herself it might inspire one underneath. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressed this as much as I have, no matter how good I feel my intentions are. It’s just… I consider you a friend Letty, a good one, and I never want my friends to feel like they can’t be who they are around me. Life’s hard enough without having to disguise yourself in trusted company.”

Letanno said nothing, even his awkward fidgeting had stopped for the time being, and Yrsa could only imagine that he was either taking her words to heart or plotting a hasty escape.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She added, “I’m not going to force you to show me your face, not that I ever could but… one day, if you’re ever ready, I’d like the chance to prove to you that you’re not the nightmare you seem to think you are. That you’re worth the effort of learning to look at you, if it really is something that takes learning to do.”

Time stretched between the two figures in that small patch of woodland. Logically, both parties were aware that only mere seconds were passing, but each of those seconds somehow managed to feel as though they’d taken the whole of an hour or a day while remaining entirely still.

It was just long enough of an eternity for doubt to creep in.

This was a mistake. The whole conversation had clearly been a mistake. It wasn’t just that she’d handled this the wrong way, it was that she shouldn’t have thought to handle it at all. They were almost to the flophouse, and if she’d held onto her thoughts for just a few more minutes they could have already gone their separate ways with cheerful goodbyes and well wishes for the evening. They could have spent the last few moments of hanging out together laughing, chattering about a shared love of a certain drink or discussing whether or not lions or elephants were louder or literally anything but this uncomfortable eternity if she hadn’t been so terribly insistent on getting to the bottom of a mystery that didn’t need solving.

And then he spoke, his voice somehow smaller and quieter than she’d ever heard him manage before.

“I don’t want to lose this.” He began, his fidgets now contained to his fingers. “Maybe it sounds sad… maybe it is sad, but… these last few months with you? Working together and getting to hang out and talk all day and everything… it’s meant a lot to me. I’ve been happier than I ever thought I’d ever be here with just… with everything, and I don’t want to risk that. I don’t want to scare you away.”

“You won’t scare me away.” She took a step forward, closing the gap between them ever so slightly as if it would help to prove her point. “No matter what you decide, I promise I won’t run, and I promise you won’t lose anything.”

The giant took a fraction of a step back from her now, as if to negate her own step forward, though to Yrsa it mostly looked as though it could be the first step of many that would lead to him leaving her if she didn’t play this carefully.

“I don’t think you can promise that.” He squeaked, somehow sounding smaller than ever as he shook his head. “I know you want to, I appreciate the sentiment, but if you knew…”

“I would still be your friend.” She finished for him, once it seemed that he was going to be unable to vocalize the awful things running through his head. “I don’t know what the awful version of me in your head might say about it, but the me out here in the real world wouldn’t stop talking to you over something you couldn’t help.”

“There isn’t an awful version of you in my head.”

“No, just the one that would call you a frightening horrible beast and run away in terror apparently.” She laughed.

“…If it helps, that’s how I imagine everyone.”

“It doesn’t, actually, but you’re at least consistent.” She widened her grin again and turned towards the treeline, content with the idea that they’d at least discussed the matter in a way that wasn’t all vague allusions or bad jokes. She’d done what she could do to let him know that he was safe to make whatever choice he wanted; ultimately the ball was in his court. “Come on, I’m practically home and you’ve got a long walk in the dark already.”

“Wait.”

It was wild to think that a single word could shift the whole of the world around you.

Yrsa paused as requested, turning on her heel with an invisible but still very blatant question mark floating over her head. Several feet away, Letanno remained planted in place, those ever-fidgeting hands now fiddling with  his hood in ways that could only lead to a single outcome.

Yrsa’s heart and stomach both raced for her throat, tangling up in one another and competing for the space as long, wiry strings of hair began to spill out from the lowered hood and over his shoulders; a jarring preview for what was to come. She made no moves and gave no reaction, hardly breathing as her eyes fixed on his movements.

Unconventional was the first word to come to her mind, but so were a lot of things about Letanno. Having strange hair didn’t feel like it was more jarring or strange than the things he couldn’t hide. Compared to his size this was practically nothing in terms of fright. If anything, she found herself incredibly curious about how it must feel, if he liked having it so long, or if it required anything special to keep it clean.

Already several thousand questions were forming in her mind, but all were withheld as she watched him fiddle with the snaps of his mask. A better version of herself, the one we all envision ourselves being in big moments, might have noticed the discomfort and hesitation in his movements and tried to stop him, but Yrsa did no such thing. She didn’t want to stop him, she wanted to prove to him that he wasn’t a monster.

And yet in those first few seconds of exposure, there were very few words that weren’t inherently monstrous flying through her mind.

The mask had fallen into his hands, and for the first time in all the months they’d known one another, Yrsa was looking at Letanno’s uncovered face.

It was… well, she didn’t want to say it was too much, but it was certainly overwhelming.

Never in a million years could she have ever prepared herself for the sight of him, even if he’d sat her down with a slideshow to describe it all in detail, broken down bit by bit. If she’d been given a puzzle with all the pieces of him, she would have still lacked the imagination to put together the face she was seeing before her now.

Incomparable. Incomprehensible. Impossible to behold.

It was like looking into the sun, only she could not find it within herself to look away despite the burning in her mind. His skin was a pale, sickly color, almost translucent and full of terrible holes and lines; she might have thought he was covered in scales if it wasn’t for the fact that it was all blatantly one piece, stretched over muscle and bone and veins and blood. As her own heart thrashed against the inside of her ribcage, practically the only muscle in her body moving at all, she couldn’t help but think of those frogs whose organs were still clearly visible from the outside.

Was he like that? If he took his shirt off — not that she would ever request such a thing — would she see the makings of a heart and stomach and intestines?

Would they be as grossly detailed as the skin that contained them? Could she keep her promise if it were the case?

She was barely holding onto her own composure, trying desperately to separate and catalog all the bizarre, horrifying bits of him until it formed a face she could understand. He had all the right pieces, and those pieces were in all the right places, and yet what she was seeing did not add up into something that made any sort of sense to her at all. The more she stared, wide-eyed and wordless, the more the wretched details of him came into focus.

She noted the way that little hairs pushed through that strange porous excuse for skin in all the wrong places, awkwardly speckling the whole of his jaw, chin, and neck with stubble in a way that felt altogether wrong, despite being recognizable. This said nothing of the odd reddened bumps and blemishes of acne and ingrown follicles that filled the spaces in between, each one practically its own mountain of wretched detail that her eyes were sorry to endure.

That face, that large, terrifying face that was staring just as wide-eyed back at her began to twist itself into an even more terrifying grimace, the many massive squared fangs barely contained by his pronounced lips bearing themselves as if he were some sort of wild beast. The little life sustaining breaths that were keeping the oxygen flowing to her brain hitched with the smallest, almost imperceptible whine, trying not to let the intrusive thoughts of what they could do to her win.

She knew better, she knew him better, but she still could not help but imagine the power behind those fangs, of what they could possibly do, and the thought alone was enough to turn her already knotted stomach several times over.

He’d been right, he’d been absolutely and completely right the entire time, though she was reluctant to admit it: he was simply too much to take in at once.

But that didn’t stop her, nor did it prompt her to run or even react.

It only kept her staring at him, eyes dancing over the billions of details until they locked onto the most important, if not the most petrifying aspect of his existence.

Two sets of eyes locked on one another, one pair small and bright red and sparkling with multitudes of unspoken emotions.

The other…

Well. The other pair were practically indescribable.

Those vast, gaping windows to Letanno’s soul were enough to pull the rest of the air from her lungs. They were deep, dark, and seemingly endless. Staring into them now, Yrsa could not help but think of that terrifying, silent pull one gets standing at the edge of a cliff, begging you to make the leap into the unthinkable despite your better judgment. If she dared look too closely, she would almost certainly find herself falling forever.

And still, despite their nature, she could not help but be awestruck by how many rich, beautiful shades of brown could exist within just two eyes.

They were as horrifying as they were wonderful.

…

Why did this feel familiar to her?

She’d never seen his face before now, that was the whole point of this, and even if she had, she certainly wouldn’t be able to forget the discomfort that permeated every cell of her being to look at him, but as she continued to gawk at the giant, she could not shake the feeling that it wasn’t the first time she’d ever looked at this face.

Her brain was as frozen as her mouth or legs, locking her into a shocked stasis, and yet little bits of mental ice began to grind away as the gears of her mind turned on a brand new thought in the midst of the horror.

She had seen this before, she had seen him before, though she hadn’t known it at the time. All at once the wretched pieces of the eldritch horror she called her friend began to come together in a single, recognizable image, mirroring the one that had shocked the whole of the community just months before.

The door.

The large, immovable shape that had manifested for seemingly no reason, the anomaly that had puzzled everyone with it’s lack of answers or explanation.

The door that could fit a giant, the door that came from nowhere, the door with the image of what could only be the devil himself molded into its face.

The very same devil that stood before her now.

Sure, he lacked things like the fantastical horns and other such details that the door itself had showcased, but there was no mistaking it. The large door had appeared at the same time as the large man, it was just as frightening yet seemingly benign, it was just as confusing, and just as inexplicable.

Whether the door was made for him, or he was made for the door, there was absolutely no denying that the two were closely linked.

And that… that was hard. That was just as hard for her to understand as the details of his massive face.

The Letanno she knew wasn’t a devil or a demon, he didn’t come off as something magical or otherworldly, and he most certainly didn’t seem the sort that would have a nefarious hidden agenda. The Letanno she knew was sweet. He was polite to anyone he encountered, he was funny, he was considerate.

He certainly wasn’t trying to unleash seven different hells into Port Ulrika or whatever that door was meant for; he was just a guy who didn’t want to be seen as more of a monster than could be helped, doing his best to get by in a world that was never going to properly fit him.

It might have been laughable to consider, but there was nothing to laugh at here.

‘We could have been laughing as we waved goodbye instead of this’

Time resumed its dreadful pace very suddenly on a gasp. The warm breezes had turned to cool evening air and filled her lungs in a great rush as the sounds of a large stammering voice just above her began trying to form into words.

“This was-… I’m so sorry- I shouldn’t- I can’t-…” Letanno stammered as he backed away from her in long strides, hands already fumbling with the mask in an effort to get it on and hide in its safety once again. Yrsa wanted desperately in that moment to reply, deep down in the core of her being a small voice was crying out to him that it was okay and that she was okay and just needed a moment, but it never managed to squeak its way out of her. The sight of his huge mouth, that overly detailed and weirdly tinted skin stretching over the fangs with those strange pink lips only reinforced the ice in her bones and muscles, keeping her planted and unmoving from her spot.

“I gotta go, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” He continued to babble, his manners still somehow overriding his shame enough to keep him from leaving without a word. “Forgive me, I tried to-…I’m so sorry.”

His footfalls shook the world around her as he stumbled off in the opposite direction, bumping into trees and cracking a few branches as he did everything in his own power to vanish as quickly as possible, leaving her alone.

All alone. Standing in the woods with nothing but the sound of distant traffic and a dying breeze to try and distract her from the tempest of thought brewing within her.

The corners of her own eyes began to blossom with tears, never quite manifesting into streaks down her face, but enough to help bring her back to the present moment in working order. Her legs woke up, taking a few steps forward as if she could possibly catch up to him, but she managed to stop herself just as soon as she started.

Even if she could catch up with him, she had no idea what to do or what she could say. While Yrsa might not have run away from him in terror, she had certainly not made the situation much better by gawking at him silently for the longest seconds either of them would ever experience. How could she possibly apologize for something like that? How could she ever convince him that it was okay, and that he could take off the-…

She stopped her own train of thought very quickly, questioning just how realistic the thought was. It was a lovely sentiment, of course, Yrsa had possessed only good intentions through this whole thing, and yet she could not help but wonder whether or not she could make herself be okay with what she had seen, regardless of the stupid, inexplicable link to the door.

Slowly, she turned herself back to the flophouse, the image of his face now etched deeply into the walls of her mind. Without something like deep hypnosis or suddenl brain surgery, she was certain she wouldn’t be able to forget the sight of him. He could wear the mask every millisecond of every moment they spent together for the rest of time, but she would always be looking just past it and imagining the uncanny vision of him that it was hiding.

Though with each passing second, and with each thunderous beat of her own terrified heart, she realized that she could be okay with that. She would have to be okay with it.

At the end of the day, Letanno was still her friend, even though she didn’t feel like much of one to him right now. He would likely need some time, they both definitely needed time now that she thought about but… it would be okay. They would be okay. She would make it up to him somehow and together they could figure out where on earth or apparently hell they were to go from here.

It was going to be okay.

But first, and perhaps more importantly, she would need to do the math in order to determine just how many cookies it would take to apologize to her favorite monster.

[narianders-gt-hell]

Artfight refs kicking my ass but I’m alive and I’ll get back here eventually

[narianders-gt-hell]

I gotta get my grubby little hands on a copy of the Skybound run. ffs.

[narianders-gt-hell]

surprised I can make words again so no real editing whateverr

Val stirred in their sleep at a sudden bang somewhere nearby. They woke enough to be reassured by a dark, cozy knit cocoon that smelled like home. Or, not like home, like fresh earth and lavender, like Phoebe—although she and home were becoming more and more synonymous by the day. They sighed comfortably and tucked themself back into the beanie they were using as a nest.

Without the wall to insulate them from her relentless noise, they could only settle into a shallow sleep. Just deep enough that the edges of reality started to blur. She was talking, probably to herself, and it was like they were together, for once not separated by their disparate sizes. They were both borrowers and they were both human and everything was fuzzy and warm and pleasant.

She thumped around in her kitchen for awhile before took a seat at the desk Val was napping on. She brewed up some fresh tea, one of her herbal blends. More noise, then the beanie was abruptly overturned. Phoebe yelped in surprise as Val spilled out into the open.

“Sorry! I guess you never made it all the way home this morning, then? You feeling okay?” she asked.

They rubbed their eyes to buy a few seconds to think, to decide if sleeping in her hat was something that warranted an explanation. She didn’t look too upset about anything, so they just nodded. They were fine, they had just wanted to be close to her or, failing that, her scent. Shit.

“Then stop lurking where I’m going to accidentally crush you, please,” Phoebe said, with exaggerated annoyance. They grinned up at her with equally exaggerated guilt.

She hooked a couple fingers around Val’s chest and pulled them out of the way as she dropped her laptop onto the desk with a thud. She fluffed up the beanie on the other side of the computer and then those long fingers pushed them against her palm so she could maneuver them back into their borrowed nest.

When had she stopped asking before she moved them? Why hadn’t they noticed? They weren’t stupid enough to trust her just because she was pretty and promised not to kill them. Were they?

Pretty was an understatement though, when she smiled at them like that. Like the sun. Like she cared.

“What’re you doing home, anyway? Don’t you have class or something?” they asked.

“Work,” she said, nodding to the laptop as she opened it. “Didn’t feel like waiting in the library today, so I’m virtual.”

Val eyed the screen warily, trying to gauge if the camera would be able to catch them from that angle. Probably not, right? Phoebe pet their curls and they settled back down when her fingers lingered. It definitely wouldn’t see them with her hand draped over them.

They curled up beneath her palm with their back to her, where they wouldn’t be so tempted to stare. A show that they trusted her. An invitation to keep stroking them with her thumb, like a living worry stone. She laughed and did just that.

Her hand grew heavier as the afternoon went on. What started as gentle affection drew out into mindless fidgeting, pushing and prodding and pinching as if they were just a pile of putty. They luxuriated in the haphazard, full-body massage and all the bruises it might bring. Despite the constant noise and the pressure and the motion and inherent danger, this was the most comfortable they’d been in a long time.

They would have to worry about it all later.

[narianders-gt-hell]

thinking about trying to pick up that cyberfae thing again but now can’t decide on a worldbuilding flavor like

kinda standard cyberpunk dystopia, but there’s fairies. low magic. maybe a lab created biological doll other project that got out of hand

full shadowrun shenanigans, maybe someone accidentally unfucked some ley lines during construction and now there’s fairies and magic and chaos running around cyberland

[narianders-gt-hell]

I’m simply not a fan of the increasingly binary division of g-rated fluff and porn. I think most of the human experience is somewhere between the two

[narianders-gt-hell]

How to hold your human friend 101

[narianders-gt-hell]

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements

[narianders-gt-hell]

:) really really really happy tn

[narianders-gt-hell]

anxiety still gets me too nervous to directly tell creators I don’t know that I like their work

and then I turn around and see someone taking their (alleged) love of a series and fucking stealing it (AGAIN?).

[narianders-gt-hell]

Werewolf but make it g/t

Like either you get a giant dealing with a very tiny werewolf like a chiwawa

Or a tiny/borrower dealing with a gigantic werewolf

[narianders-gt-hell]

Finally actually finished this little scribbly. Minigiant alien boyfie

[narianders-gt-hell]

Borrower dress up meme I made to cope with The Consumption

If you want to put your guys in cute outfits here u go !

Explanations for the idk ‘lore’ surrounding these below the cut

A) borrower that lives in a forested area near enough to human settlements that they’ve gotta disguise themself most of the time. Laying down they look like a normal leaf thanks to the hat.

B) standard indoors borrower that patchworked their clothing together quickly without really thinking too much about it outside of resource usage/energy expenditure

C) B U G A R M O R

D) Borrower that saw rollerskates and pony beads and got really really really excited. They and their friends draw on each other regularly with an old ballpoint pen they borrowed

E) Junkyard borrower that lives too close to humans to not disguise themself as trash basically.

F) Housebound guy that saw human clothes and meticulously copied seams and stitches and rewove fabric into more interesting clothing. Their house is covered in copies of vogue

G) Borrower that’s part of a city deep in the forest, hunts bugs and rats and whatnot. They don’t have to care about hiding that much so their clothing serves more of an artistic function than one that’s necessary.

H) Under that cute rat fur cloak is 1 million knives. That they will use to make more cute rat fur cloaks. This borrower lives with some VERY messy humans and they’ve grown adept at slaying whatever crawls through the walls that isn’t borrower-shaped.

I) Woodland borrower that excels at drying greenery. They trade pressed-flower fabrics and preserved herbs for seeds, food, and other goods at a shop they run in a tree hollow or something. Probably swaps techniques and home grown fabrics with the sewing borrower that likes the look of human clothing. Oh they’d probably make a huge beautiful mess together actually.

J) Borrower that lives in a shed next to a house. They only go to the main living space for resupply runs on things that can last for a month or two if they time it correctly. This is like the borrower equivalent of living semi-off-the grid. Also they got into embroidery a bit bc there’s not much to do.

[narianders-gt-hell]

On One Lordeth And An Other Serveth [G/T]

[Word count 1058]

Title, but the lord is not lording and the servant is not serving. Same characters as Eggs from Another Basket, but one of them gets doxxed (name reveal 🗣️). Also it's a first encounter because I am big fan. of first encounters.

CW because it's fearplay: mentions of death (no one dies)? I'm really bad at content warnings. Tell me if you think there's others I failed to notice pls.

Some kind of additional explanations (language related) at the end for reasons I will specify later.

“A piece of advice: Do not anger him. Your job is to serve.”

He walked along, the end of the corridor becoming clearer with each step towards what he guessed was certain doom, the way the escorting guards looked at him, eyes filled with pity.

He nodded.

Before he knew it, the doors were in front of him.

Now that they were so close, his next step felt heavy, and the air was suffocating. He could not enter. He could not go in. He would meet a fate worse than death if he did.

He was pushed through the set of doors.

Behind him, the doors slammed shut. A small “click!” followed, sealing his fate, and possibly spelling his doom. Only then he realised what he signed himself up for. 

Too late, however.

“Wait! No!” he turned towards the closed doors, pounding them with his fists. “LET ME OUT! PLEASE!”

The doors, famously renowned for their inanimate nature, did not pity his situation, and thus he remained a prisoner in an infinitely large room.

He was helpless.

And he would be even more helpless.

He sat at the door, abandoned by hope. Fear, in turn, came to greet him when he saw a figure in the distance.

Mountains do not move, yet there was one walking before his own two eyes.

“It’s okay.” He approached closer, prompting the other to back away, and move towards a corner. “I won’t do anything to you.” 

He must be lying. He did not trust his words one bit.

When his back made contact with the doors, he pressed himself harder against the polished wood, praying that he could dissolve into it. Unable to see the irony that the god he was praying to is right in front of him, standing so tall he could reach the skies even if he put no effort into it.

Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, but he did not feel hot.

Tears flowed from his eyes, but he was not sad.

He could only look down, his limbs trembling. He wanted to be sick. He wished he could fall unconscious, anything, anything to avoid acknowledging the fact that this is real. He had the power to do anything he wanted to him. It would be a mercy to be unconscious and not know what would happen to him, than to be awake and experience horrors not even the most creative writer could conceive.

The only thing within his control was to not look up and accept this nightmarish reality.

Do not look up.

Do not look up.

Do NOT look up.

“They sent you here, I suppose?”

He should reply, but his body would not listen.

“You… do speak, right?” This time, it was said more slowly, with a hint of caution. Was he warning him to obey or suffer the consequences?

“Do not anger him. Your job is to serve,” was the only advice he had been given prior to this. What would happen if he was angered? Was he willing to find out?

Terror struck him the way lightning would strike a tree. What would he do to him? He would definitely not want to know.

“Y-yes! I was s-sent here.” He choked back a sob.

“Oh, good.” He replied casually, “I thought you could not speak.”

He watched as the newcomer cowered by the tiny doors, sobbing quietly, as if afraid of his wrath if they cried just a bit louder. With every new introduction, he felt less of a human and more like a monster. The way all of them feared for their lives if they even dared to look at him… 

It hurt him to do this, over and over again. To them, he is an unapproachable, intimidating god. But he is as human as they are, and so he had to keep trying. To find someone, anyone that could look beyond his size, his height. Someone who will think of him as human.

Putting some distance between them, he cautiously sat down on the ground, pretending to look around his room instead. That way, hopefully, he would feel more at ease.

He turned back to face the man after a while, and caught movement of him hastily whipping his head down at the floor.

“So… what’s your name?” He tried again.

The tiny body trembled violently again. “Please… Please, h-have mercy…”

“I’m not going to kill you.” He would have been dead long ago if killing him was the goal. They both probably knew it was a lame reassurance. Words mean nothing most of the time, but hopefully it meant something here.

“What’s your name?”

“My, my name is Ying’an, sir.” The person below him stiffened. “Ying’an, my Lord!” More tears landed on the ground, barely visible to him.

Ying’an still refused to look at him, though he seemed to have calmed down.

He gave a slight smile anyway, one that could not reach his eyes. “A pleasure to meet you then, Ying’an.” His smile widened more when Ying’an finally raised his head. “Sir,” he added mischievously.*

One word undid all progress made.

Ying’an collapsed to his knees, kowtowing to him, sobbing and trembling and pathetic. “I-I apologise, my Lord!” Ying’an cried, yet he could not console him, aware the opposite effect would surely occur instead. “Please forgive my disrespect, I did not intend to offend! Please…”

What did he do wrong? All he did was try to lighten the mood, but instead it… went back to the start.

“Hey, hey,” he started, unsure whether it would make him cry more. He was quieter now, but whether Ying'an was deliberately holding in his sobbing or he really had calmed down, he could not know for sure.

Regardless, he had to continue trying, to clear up this monstrous impression of himself. “I was just joking, you don’t need to be so formal around me.”

“Y-Yes, my Lord.”

“You don’t need to address me as such either. Although I might in all senses of the word ‘lord over’** you, it isn’t compulsory to point it out, you know.”

He just wanted a friend.

But no one would make friends with a “god”, would they?

“Relax. Address me as though I were a friend. Can you do this for me?”

“Yes, my L—” Ying’an interrupted himself before he could finish. “Okay.”

-----------------------------

Additional information! This work was partially written in Chinese (dialogue only), and then elaborated further in English. This has unfortunately caused a some issues where some jokes are. well. lost in translation.

"You can call me... Ying'an, my Lord." "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Ying'an."

*大人 can mean multiple things, such as the word for "adult". In this context it's a formal show of respect, similar to "your grace" or "my lord". It's usually placed after the name. Here it is separated by a space acting as a comma, but the next line omits the space between so it became Ying'an's title, as if he is the one who should be respected.

"Yes, my Lord." "(You) also don't need to address me as such. I may be tall, but you don't have to point it out either."

**However, it's also made up of two characters: 大, big, and 人, man/person. In this case, it's just a pun of "my lord" literally being "big person", or y'know, a giant lol.

[narianders-gt-hell]

mentally i am here

[narianders-gt-hell]

Eggs from Another Basket 2/2 [G/T]

[Word count 940] Part 1/2

Is preparing a meal a form of love, or simply performing a duty?

I might continue this as a series of short stories, I'm quite happy with this even if the writing process was... extremely unconventional to say the least, compared to anything else I've written

-----

He had to rise before the sun did, for what he was about to do will no doubt earn a punishment for defiling their religion.

Carrying a large tray of food, he couldn’t help but wonder how many people could eat from this alone. Twenty? Thirty? Surely it could feed thirty people with more to spare. It was so much food for him that he could hardly comprehend how much the god really needed to eat, even if they had dined together more than once.

The god would only complain that this amount is too little for him, though. It still felt unbelievable to know that a portion that can feed a family for a week is hardly more than a couple bites for him.

Then again, he isn’t just a normal person.

He entered the god’s private quarters through a door made to fit people his height, still carrying the tray. The tray was heavy. He didn’t complain, however. He chose to do this.

His footsteps echoed in the large room as he made his way to the bed.

The bed looked less like a bed, and more like some impossible cubic structure with a gigantic figure resting upon it, still as a statue. The god was also as quiet as a statue, apparently. He could pass as a dead man if he slept in a coffin instead.

He would have let him sleep for a little while longer, but it was better to eat while it was still hot.

“Hey, wake up.” He pulled on the rope, ringing the bell on the infinitely high bedside table. “It’s time for breakfast.”

A hand slammed onto the bell, making a final “dong!” sound, followed by a second of loud silence.

The giant above rose to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. When he stopped, his half open eyes seemed to look at him, blinking a few times. Perhaps not expecting him to arrive this early, the sky still a pleasant rich blue, with weak rays of gold signalling the start of the day.

“Mmh…” he yawned, and his gaze drifted towards the tray of food. “Are those…eggs?”

His jaw didn’t drop open, but he did notice his eyes were wider and his back sat a little straighter compared to ten seconds ago. He then bent down a little, squinting his eyes to focus on the smaller person beneath him, casting a shadow and blocking what little light the sun provided.

“Yeah.” he held up the tray a little, even if it would not do much in helping the god see better. “I believe you’ve never had eggs ever since you arrived?”

“I believe so too, I think.” The god stood up, and he could no longer see his visage as clearly anymore. “Have you eaten?”

“Of course not, I was the one doing the cooking at the crack of dawn.”

“Then… join me for breakfast?”

The god kneeled down, an action he did not mind, but would probably earn gasps of horror from the other people if they witnessed this. A hand was placed in front of him, fingers beckoning him to climb aboard, or leave the tray in his hand so he could carry it instead. He waited for a response, but only silence replied. The smaller person, although facing him, his eyes did not seem to focus on the larger being. Or so he thought, as expressions were harder to observe from this height and size.

“... Is there something wrong?”

“No…” His answer trailed off. “Do you think I’ll get a worse penalty if they knew I served you eggs and joined you for another meal?”

Why would he get a penalty for serving eggs as part of a meal? What was wrong about eggs in the first place? He had explained that he could not dine with him due to his status as his servant, but…

“Am I not allowed to have eggs?”

The tinier man gingerly set the tray in his palm, but remained in place.

“Eggs as an offering are forbidden. It would be considered disrespectful, because of where eggs came from…would be considered impure.”

Luckily, the towering being above him seemed unconcerned about the impurity of certain foods.

He was suddenly whisked into the air by a force pinching his garments, before landing on another soft, uneven surface radiating warmth.

He could see his face again.

The god smiled at him from above, his happiness radiating another form of warmth.

“You already disrespected me long ago, what’s the matter if you gave me a few more eggs?”

“You were the one who told me to drop the formalities first!” he exclaimed, slapping the palm underneath him, which the god would not even have noticed had he not been looking at him. The god simply beamed, possibly delighted that he was so at ease around him that he tried to inflict pain, however insignificant it would be.

The man felt a light sway, and it was only then he noticed the god was making his way to the dining table.

His footsteps were as loud as his own when he first entered the room.

The hand supporting him was then lowered, and he happily hopped off and let out a sigh, inaudible to all but himself.

They took their seats and began to feast.

“...Thank you.”

“There’s no need to.”

It was unnecessary to show gratitude for someone who was paid to do his job.

Unfortunately, the god is insistent and stubborn. “No, really. Thank you for your company.”

“Well, if you really want to thank me, you can start by paying for my retirement.”

[narianders-gt-hell]

Eggs from Another Basket 1/2 [G/T]

[Word count 848]

There is a story behind every individual, even gods. Perhaps one that involves eggs.

Dialogue focused. I tend to put little dialogue in my works, so I figured some practice would help. Enjoy.

-----

The larger being looming before him picked at his dinner with his fork, idly stabbing at the various meats offered to him, not paying attention to the much tinier man sitting before him. The smaller man lightly shuddered, trying to ignore the scene. The god had the power to do this to him and his people if he wanted. If this is the strength displayed if he was not focused, imagine the power he could wield if he were malicious.

Yet, the god was not.

Instead, he invited him to dine together. He looked at his meal, delicately cut from the god’s own portions. He took a bite. Meat was a rare delicacy for the common people, not especially expensive, but would be costly to eat daily.

Somehow, his life changed. Now, chicken, beef, pork, and mutton made regular appearances on his plate every day. He was like a toad getting to feast on a swan.

He did not deserve this kindness.

He was just doing his duty, as the god’s servant.

Today, the god himself looked distracted. He always was, though at least he would still attempt to make conversation every dinner. He did not like it at first, the looming presence always made him feel a primal terror deep inside him.

He never realised how silent it was when the god stopped talking.

It seems that it was finally his time to make conversation, whether he enjoyed it or not.

“You look upset,” his small voice piped up.

Upon hearing his words, the god gently set down his cutlery without making a sound, and his gaze turned towards him. Waiting for him to continue.

“Do gods feel sadness too?”

“I told you already, I’m not a god,” the god sighed. 

“You are one to me.”

How could he not be one, with all the might he possessed within his powerful body?

“You’re just a bit smaller than me, we’re not all that different.”

Nonsense. He was barely the height of his finger. The difference is very substantial. How could he use this excuse over and over again, every time he pointed it out? His hand alone could crush buildings, that is very much a feat a person like him could not perform no matter how hard they tried.

When he at last learnt to speak to the god while reining in his fear, one of the very first questions he asked him was the name of the god’s race, when he insisted he was not a god.

A human, he had answered then, and he learnt that gods were as mortal as he was, only with much more power to shape the world to their liking.

Which could be considered a god’s power.

“Technically, you’re the one much larger than us,” he stated. Yes, size is relative. The truth is also what the majority believes too, though. That would mean he is the larger one, as there is only one of him believing they are smaller, and many of them believing he is larger.

Nevertheless it was a topic he no longer wanted to continue, as it would eventually lead nowhere.

They both knew this. It was time to change the topic.

The smaller person stood up from his smaller table and gave a deep, mocking bow. “So, my Lord Almighty Human, what brings such melancholy to an existence such as you?” He flashed a grin, and sat down again to continue eating his meal.

The god smiled wistfully, stars in his eyes. “Nothing. I simply miss home.”

It took a second for him to register what he said. It did not even occur to him that the god once had another life before he simply appeared to his people one day. How did he live then, before being thrown into this new life?

What was his story?

“A…home?”

The god nodded.

“...What was your home like?”

The god frowned a little, puzzled by his question, perhaps? “It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I lived with my family, and we talked, ate, spent time together, things like that.”

He looked at both of their dinner plates. “What do you usually eat back home, then?”

There was a pause. He seemed to consider his answer, before replying, “I guess eggs were a common dish. My family weren’t the best at cooking, but eggs were easy enough to prepare, so we had eggs quite often.”

“Eggs?” He questioned.

“Eggs, round things from a—”

“—No, I know what eggs are, thank you very much.”

The god chuckled a little, then reached out to him with a finger as tall as he was, gently ruffling his hair. “Why did you ask then?”

“It was an unexpected answer,” he retorted back, pushing his finger away. Two hands lost to a finger. “Besides, who knew you eat eggs?”

“What’s surprising about me eating eggs?”

“... Nothing.”

He finished his meal, and requested to leave, saying his duties require him elsewhere for tonight.

Much to the god’s disappointment.

He knew, but no attempt was made to stop him.

He simply wished him goodnight.