#the Borrowers

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 16 | Friends and Curiosities

Chapter Sixteen | Friends and Curiosities

Parker couldn’t believe it. Within such a short amount of time, he suddenly had a dozen followers and friends on his page.

Sure, he didn’t know them personally, but everyone was welcoming and polite – two things he was eager to report to his mom when she expressed concern. The miniscule boy also made sure his mom knew he was being safe, not giving out too much personal information, and that the topic of his condition hadn’t even been brought up.

One person commented on his profile picture being interesting, which was a picture of Parker standing in front of his computer screen, but he just explained it was a background and that he wanted to showcase the platform he was publishing on. Karl was the kid’s name, and evidently he and Parker were the same age.

All in all, Parker was pleased with his interactions and the people he was meeting. Lots of them had advice and things for him to check out, and he liked all of the things he was seeing.

There were sketches of space and vast mountains as well as the everyday interactions. There were hundreds of stories from writers just like him.

It felt nice. It felt like some kind of community with people supporting and helping one another. A sense of satisfaction filled the young teen every time he checked his notifications and saw he was getting the chance to meet someone new.

“Just look here, mom,” said Parker eagerly as he showed his mom the latest post he made. “It has almost fifteen likes!” He looked up into his mom’s features and saw her beaming with pride.

“That’s so great, Parker,” she complemented. “Are you going to post your latest story from Mr. Tamplin’s class?”

“I… think so. I don’t know yet though. It doesn’t feel done,” he replied, feeling his cheeks getting warm. The latest story he came up with for Mr. Tamplin’s class was a fiction fantasy story about a sprite named Tal’el. It essentially was his backstory for the Dungeons and Dragons campaign he and his friends started.

Basically, he was a small fairy-like person who was a poison master for his people until he decided he wanted to go out adventuring and exploring. The Dungeon Game Master said it was fine if he played a smaller character, thankfully not questioning why he would want to do such a thing and found a special class for him to play as.

The story actually won a young adult author award for his class and Parker had Mr. Tamplin to thank since it was he who tutored him through his writing slumps. He was now refining it for his literature class.

“Well, don’t be scared to post it sweetie. You’re such a great writer and can do whatever you set your mind to,” encouraged his mom. “Now before you get sucked into checking your notifications, finish your homework and get ready for bed. You have a long day tomorrow.”

“Yes, momma,” Parker replied, rolling his screen back into place in the main area. The structure walls rumbled as his mom closed the outside walls to his home. It was hard to believe it had been a whole month since he “moved in” to this new space.

Parker loved it, in a weird way.

Not to sound ungrateful, but having his own space to roam around, especially in a space that felt suited to him, made him feel just a little bit normal. He liked that he was usually at eye-level with his mom instead of having her loom over him. Just the thought made him shudder involuntarily, and he wasn’t sure why.

It made him feel guilty every time the sensation seized him.

But, now was not the time to dwell on that. It was time for bed.

Parker walked into his room and rummaged through his dresser to find his oversized space t-shirt and elastic band sleep shorts. Then, he went back to the computer and finished submitting his assignments. The words filled the page and Parker hoped that his paper on the evolution of technology was going to be good enough to get him the grade he needed.

Parker’s other assignments were a breeze. Math was simple enough and the biology project about documenting the growth of plants was going smoothly. It was his other project, his story for his literature course, that he was worried about. It was his same story that he was using for his channel, but it was more a mild fear of rejection and lack of perfection.

His online friends liked it, but would his teacher? His followers?

Parker sighed and leaned against the wall before slinking down further into the chair. His eyes focused on the blinking line in front of him as he stared at the end of the fifth chapter he had been editing. Something about this story felt particularly personal, but Parker remembered hearing once about how writers put more of themselves than they’re aware of when they’re making characters and stories.

Perhaps this was just part of that feeling?

The teen sighed and stretched when, suddenly, his lights flickered up above him.

Confusion injected itself into his mind as he stared at the wired lights on the ceiling. His eyes flicked over to the wall switch.

Perhaps just a fluke?

The notion was dismissed when the lights flickered two more times, all of his lights dimming and glowing systematically.

Something raised the hair on the back of Parker’s neck. He felt like he was on pins and needles, the anticipation of a drop while suspended in mid-air. Cautiously, the curious teen stood up and walked over to the switch, examining it closely.

It was still up and wasn’t jiggling or loose.

The lights flickered again.

It felt like he was in a spooky movie, of which Parker had only ever seen one in his life along with a couple of older “thrillers” like Alien and Jaws. Even those movies were censored because his mom didn’t want him to get too spooked.

Was there something wrong with the plug?

Parker glanced at the window at the back by the stairs and, just for a moment, he could have sworn he saw something.

It looked like the quick flick of a shadow.

It was quick and Parker wasn’t even sure if he knew what he saw. He did just step out of his room after all, and he had been staring at his computer screen, which he knew sometimes made shadows appear when there weren’t any.

He held deathly still, his entire body locking up like a perfect figurine. His body fell naturally into the position as he slowly crouched and laid his hand against the floor, as if he could detect any trembling or motion.

He didn’t get a chance to investigate for long though. Before he could make his way to the stairs in his crouched position, there was a knock on the table that made Parker nearly jump out of his skin.

“Parker? Are you going to bed soon?” Parker’s entire body shivered as he pushed himself upright and heaved in a few deep breaths. Every nerve in his body felt electrified. While his heart continued to thrum rapidly, he cleared his throat and called over his shoulder to his mom as the sides of the walls began to open.

“Y-y-yeah, mom. I’m ready for bed,” said Parker. He glanced up at the lights stayed on without the slightest hint of a flicker. The walls opened fully and, instantly, Parker saw his mom’s brow furrow quizzically.

“Everything okay? You look a bit pale,” she said. The maternal instinct in Amanda kicked in and she reached forward and pressed the tip of her finger against Parker’s forehead. He shied away from it, which was typical teenage behavior, but something else felt off about Parker that Amanda couldn’t quite place.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. I just…” Parker stopped short. It felt like something physically squirmed in his mind, preventing him from saying something about the shadow and the lights. He shook the notion loose, confused as to why this instinct flared up in him, and proceeded with his thought. “I just saw the lights flicker and got spooked.”

“Oh?” Amanda replied as she glanced over and looked down at the power strip that fed electricity into Parker’s Place. Nothing looked off about it to her, but she still knelt and glanced around the ground.

Still nothing.

“Well,” she sighed as she stood and walked back over to the front of Parker’s tiny home. “I don’t see anything. It looks like it’s all plugged in, but we’ll check on it tomorrow. Okay? For now, it’s bedtime.”

“Yes, momma,” replied Parker as he walked up to the edge and accepted the kiss on his torso that his mom gave him. With that, Amanda smiled and watched as Parker curled under the blankets, forming an almost imperceptible lump in the bed. “Goodnight momma. I love you.”

“I love you too, Parker. Sweet dreams my love.” Amanda closed the walls and secured them tightly before tiptoeing out of the room and to her own room to turn in for the night.

Just in the other room, Parker laid there with his heart still fluttering nervously. Everything in him was still on edge, and the curiosity of what was going on with his lights was really bothering him. Parker enjoyed a good mystery or puzzle, but he generally liked ones he could solve.

This one wasn’t solved yet.

For what felt like a couple of hours, Parker tossed and turned in his bed as a mixture of homework assignments and curiosities about the power outlet swirled like a mist in his mind. The more the young teen thought, the more it annoyed him that he didn’t have the answers.

He had had enough.

Parker pushed himself up and decided to go and check out the source of the flickering lights. If it was a cable going bad or possibly the breaker being loose, he needed to get a new one as soon as possible. It would be terrible if he was in class and his power went out. His mom said they would do it in the morning, but Parker knew himself; and he knew he couldn’t sleep if he didn’t at least go and see it for himself.

He couldn’t afford to not check it out with his presentation tomorrow.

The teen stepped noiselessly through his house and exited the front door. As he walked around, he noticed a few things that just seemed, in a word, natural.

Sound was amplified. The darkness in the corners of the room seemed brighter. He could feel every tremble in the desk from his footsteps.

As he made it outside, a choice presented itself to him. For a moment, he considered going down the climbing line he installed himself on the backside of the desk.

But he knew if he slipped on the rope and got hurt, which he never did, his mom would make him take down the line.

He decided to risk it.

It was late. She was asleep. Parker was as sure footed as a goat and knew he would be fine all the way down. The temptation was also too great for the teen to resist. Plus, it would be a lot faster.

There was something about the experience that was, in a word, liberating. The free fall. The catch. The feel of the rope in between his fingers.

It felt natural.

The urge to climb and fall and hide never failed to fascinate parker. Whether it was something his condition genetically programmed him to do so or if it was some personality trait he possessed, he didn’t know.

What he did know was the sensation was addictive and he was itching for a good climb.

Parker snagged the line in between his fingers and leaned over the edge of the desk. There was a mild sense of vertigo that swelled inside him, but he loved it. The weightlessness seized him as he let himself slip over the edge, hands and feet firmly in place and secured on the line.

The line burned against the teen’s palms and against his legs as he quickly descended. It felt like something a secret agent would do, and it felt epic.

The moment Parker’s feet hit the ground, he felt himself instinctually look around and crouch low. Silently, he stepped across the planks of wood that constructed the floor and walked toward the power strip that was only a few feet away. The whole thing was four times Parker’s size, but he navigated through the wires with ease.

His hands worked quickly to check the buttons and reset panels, and the teen could find nothing wrong with any of it.

Perhaps something is up with the electrical cover in the wall? Parker wondered silently. He jumped over the stiff cord that led to the wall and approached the trim on the wall which had small notches in it, so he didn’t need to snag a ladder.

As he approached, Parker noticed something by the very base of the electrical cover that made his hair stand on end.

It was a drill bit.

Flat head.

It was a tad bit rusty, and Parker didn’t recognize it from his mom’s kit that she used to help construct his space. He approached and picked it up, realizing it wasn’t as heavy as he thought it would be. In his hands, it was about twice the size of the drill that his mom used, and he realized he could probably carry it around easy enough; but where did it come from?

I don’t think this is mom’s drill bit. How’d it get here?

Parker glanced up at the electrical cover and felt his heart skip a beat as he noticed the screw for the wall socket was protruding from the wall ever so slightly.

His entire body was shaking now, but he wasn’t sure why.

Had his mom messed with the electrical cover with some old tools that she forgot about?

It didn’t seem like her.

Parker stepped up on the trim, balancing precariously and using the cord to stabilize himself, as he pushed on the very bottom of the electrical cover.

With almost no effort, the piece wiggled free and the screw clattered to the ground. The end looked a lot shorter than the others. He knew because he helped his mom replace the covers a few weeks ago.

The young teen took a few deep breaths to calm himself before he dared to peek inside. Engulfing darkness belonging to the wall consumed his vision. There was something exciting and enticing about the darkness in front of him.

It felt, in a word, familiar.

But why?

Parker felt his head beginning to throb as his mind stirred some fragmented memory, but it was hazy and distant.

What really set the teen on edge, however, was when he dared to push himself up onto the ledge to peer better into the wall and noticed something else that made his insides fill with nervous energy.

There was something that looked like a pencil mark. Two lines with a triangle on top followed by a little check mark on the inside. To Parker, it looked like a kid’s drawing of a house with a check mark inside of it.

Was this something his mom did?

Or was this some kind of construction mark?

What was this?

What did it mean?

The teen stared at the marks and then back to the darkness of the wall. Just like the shadows of the room when he stepped out of his house, the looming abyss of those narrow spaces between the walls didn’t seem very dark. It almost seemed inviting.

There was something about that confined space between the drywall and the studs and exterior boards that made Parker feel like he was back in his space. It was familiar.

But why?

Parker hadn’t realized that he had been learning forward to the point where he was barely hanging onto the edge of the electrical cover and leaning into the walls. It took the sound of his foot skidding against the wood and nearly tumbling headfirst into the space in front of him.

Startled and shaken, Parker pulled himself back out of the entryway into the walls, forced the electrical cover back onto its perch, and hurried back to his room. He was in such a tizzy, the young teen didn’t even realize he had gone straight to the secured line he left and climbed up it in record time, ignoring the staircase mere feet away.

His little feet barely made noise as he scurried back to his room, securing the door and slipping under his covers without so much as a squeak.

Parker’s mind was racing. What was that he just saw? And what was that weird draw he had toward the walls?

Hopefully, his mom would have the answers.

First thing in the morning, he would ask her. She would make everything better, right?

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

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Beginning

[mocksart]

based on this post

[ittybluebell]

*opens my trench coat* psst hey c'mere i've got gt pose refs

*shaking my post like a bag of treats* pspspspsps

[duscarasheddinn]

I just think it's adorable when Arrietty rides Sho's shoulder. And I ship them (and have written several fics shipping them). They're already friends, so maybe shipping them romantically would be friends to lovers?

[coolwizard78]

so brainrotted for @mocksart’s borrower au.. check out their lovely art and fic!!

[pocket-ozwynn]

💚Rolly Valentine: Caught Unawares💙

10/10 doctors say that getting the drop on your assassin boyfriend so you can smother him with colossal kisses is good for the soul. Zelly should know, she went to med school.

(Credit goes to plaidartist on Instagram for the lovely Valentine’s Day commission)

[goryhorroor]

horror sub-genres • western horror

simply put, western horror is a mixture of horror and western. this genre is a combination of something called “weird westerns.” 

[elizabugz]

[sarah-kings]

As much as I love fluff in gt and the giant always being worried sick about the tiny, even if they are fine, I gotta LOVE myself an idiot giant and a smart tiny, ESPECIALLY if the giant is just a normal human who is stuck with a borrower of some kind.

Now, still could be wholesome, right?

Yes, but what IF the tiny was the giant's only braincell?

Giant: hey, did you see where I put my phone?

Tiny: ...your hand. Look at your hand

Giant: *look at their free hand*

Tiny: The OTHER hand!

Giant: oooooh!

Giant: ah, shoot, I forgot my shopping list back home

The tiny hitching a ride in their pocket: *have perfectly memorized the entirety of the shopping list*

Giant: ah, thanks, man

The tiny, back home, standing amongst a whole bunch of pop tarts and nothing else from the shopping list: this was NOT on the shopping list!

Giant: but they're SO much easier to make than a whole meal!

Tiny: Even I can cook and I barely had a stove before meeting you!

Tiny: hey, can I have some ice cream?

Giant: sure, it's in the fridge

Tiny:

Giant:

Tiny:

Giant: what?

Tiny: you THINK I could open the FRIDGE?!

Tiny: ...what are you doing?

Giant, curled up in bed: I'm dying, leave me alone

Tiny: ...you LITERALLY only have a common cold, you drama queen

Giant: what's 12+34?

Tiny: are you SERIOUSLY using me as a pocket calculator for a question THAT simple?

Giant:

Tiny: ...46

Interviewer: why should we hire you?

Tiny, giving advice from the giant's pocket: endurance and confidence

Giant: insurance and the cornfield's dense

Tiny: *facepalms*

Giant: I'm not that forgetful and pay TONS of attention to little details

Tiny: then tell me, what's my eye color?

Giant: ...what?

Tiny: what's my eye color?

Giant: ... blue?

Tiny: yes, it's blue

Giant, sighing in relief: yeah, I knew that

Tiny: it's GREEN! We've been living together for two years now and you don't know my eye color is GREEN?!

Oh, how great it is that I have two OCs which are exactly just THAT relationship.

Would be a shame. If I never posted about them.

[best-childhood-book]

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

I think borrowers during the holidays are either panicking or having the time of their lives. If their bean family leaves for the day, they have the whole house to themself. They could just go on a borrowing spree and when the beans get home they’re all so tired that the borrower can just keep borrowing cause everyone is asleep.

On the reverse side…if their bean is the one hosting. Oh god no. The noise would be so loud. Children screaming and playing, people chatting, not to mention that the food would be so tempting to the borrower. They’re hoping that maybe the beans will leave the kitchen just for a few seconds so they can swipe some food but no one is leaving the kitchen and it’s annoying as hell!

Now technically this goes for any holiday but, imagine finding a borrower while celebrating the holidays with family. Maybe the fam is doing a tradition and no one is in the kitchen and craving just one more bite of something you go to the kitchen to see a borrower holding some of the food. The absolute panic this borrower might feel in the moment. Imagine if it wasn’t you who found them, maybe it was your aunt you screams mouse causing everyone to either scream or try and catch the poor borrower. Maybe it was your younger cousin who thought the borrower was a toy and grabs them only to bring them to you shouting “LOOK AT THIS TOY I FOUND!! IM GOING TO KEEP IT!” and that’s assuming that they go to you and don’t just stash the borrower away or show their parents.

Depending on who sees the borrower would change what happens next. Some people might keep them a secret from the rest of the family, either helping them out by sneaking some food for them or basically kidnapping the borrower so they can chat later, although kidnapping someone is still pretty bad. Especially if the person takes them home without any warning. Now the borrower is MILES away from home! Then there’s the scenario where the whole family gets involved. Maybe an uncle slams a jar onto if the scared borrower, and after doing so shows them off saying “it’s not a mouse but check it out! It’s a lil dude hahaha!!” Which could end very badly for the borrower. Who knows what’ll happen when an entire family knows they exist, let alone are captured by them! Hopefully one family member “accidentally” lets them go, resulting in them getting scolded or something, but the borrower is super thankful that this one bean, out of the whole family, freed them.

The holidays have so much potential for borrower stories and it can fit into whatever holiday you celebrate!

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 2 | Decisions

Amanda hated this. She hated this whole this. Curses, she really hated this. 

Amanda had managed to shove her current troubles aside just long enough to focus on the thumb sized boy hiding under the park bench. After everything that happened, Amanda determined a few things. 

One, the boy was real. No hallucinations could move real blades of grass and whimper and cry like a real human child. 

Two, the child was alone at the moment. He kept looking around expectantly but refused to leave the pole more than a few inches before scurrying back to its perceived safety. 

Three, he needed to be taken care of. He had obviously been there for a few days, but Amanda couldn’t be sure. 

Finally, she needed to leave him alone. If he was more animalistic, Amanda didn’t want her scent or whatever to taint him. She thought some kind of parent might be back to collect him any minute. She knew some animals would leave their young for days on end while they hunted or lured off a predator, but she didn’t want to even consider the later. She also knew the law and abducting children was not something she wanted on her record - no matter how small or how in need the child was. 

At the same time, she couldn’t just leave him. 

So, she compromised with herself. 

She sat at a neighboring park bench, the whole time keeping eyes on the chipped base of the bench and the little tuft of sandy brown hair she could see. For hours, she sat and kept an eye on the small boy while also researching “tiny humans” on her phone. 

Sadly, she only found communities of authors and artists fascinated with small people with tails called “Littles,” which was part of a larger series written by John Peterson. There were other references to small, human-like beings who possessed sentience, but who knew what the little boy actually was. 

In all honesty, Amanda was focused so intently on the boy not only because of the whole situation, but because the distraction was a welcome one. It was far from relief, but it was a good way for her to keep her mind preoccupied at the very least. The tension of what to do next with her life and what to do with the boy loomed over her like the impending night. 

What made the evening even more tense was that the neighborhood kids came and began to play on the playground, kicking their soccer ball dangerously close to the thumb-sized boy’s hiding place. It was on the second time that Amanda moved back and sat on the bench just over the boy’s hiding spot that her anxiety began to calm. 

By the time it was sunset, the children had gone home with their parents and friends, leaving Amanda alone with the little boy. Amanda checked again and again and, sure enough, there was the little boy slumped over, barely awake. 

He had to be so tired. 

He looked so small and helpless right there, barely sitting upright against the cold metal pole. She looked into his dreary eyes and could see the spark of life draining away with each passing second. 

Amanda had been won over by her irrational, caring side. Whether the child was abandoned or not, he needed help. Amanda would return the next day with the boy if need be, but he needed help now. 

Nerves made her hand shake more than she thought as she knelt down and caught the eye of the small boy again. Dark circles were under his eyes, and he barely moved when she pulled the grass blades to the side. He was obviously exhausted to the point where he couldn’t even run away anymore. 

Amanda didn’t want to just grab him. He was probably very fragile. 

At the same time, she didn’t want him to run away either. A rough plan was in the forefront of her mind, and she was risking everything on it working. 

Based on all the fictional pieces she read about “The Littles,” all a “human bean” had to do was reassure the small person (because they really were just little people with mouse tails) and then the small person would trust the human. 

It seemed ridiculous, but it was the best laid plan that Amanda could come up with in her emotionally exhausted state. 

So, straining a forced smile, Amanda laid her hand onto the grass in front of the boy a few inches away. He whimpered and curled in on himself, hiding his fear filled eyes from Amanda. The way he shied away made Amanda think that the boy was bracing himself to be grabbed or pinched. The sight made her heart ache. 

So, she withdrew her hand ever so slightly and smiled again, making sure to appear as non-threatening as possible. 

“Hey, sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re safe now, okay? I’m not going to hurt you,” said Amanda gently. Was she losing her mind? Was this some sort of acceptance her mind needed to go through to begin recovering from her divorce? The boy’s eyes blinked away tears as he looked back up at Amanda. 

“Come on sweetheart. I won’t hurt you. Let’s go home,” she said. The child looked around but didn’t seem to find what he was looking for and, to Amanda’s shock, yielded to her request. 

He stood shakily, picked up something, and toddled forward until he stood at the tips of Amanda’s fingers. She held her breath as she marveled at the child as he glanced from Amanda’s hand to her eyes. Amanda felt her features soften involuntarily as she gazed at the boy. 

“I’ll protect you. You don’t have to be scared of me,” she said tenderly. “Come on. Just step on up, okay?” 

The sandy haired boy seemed to glance around once more, looking warily back toward the bench. Was he looking at something? What was keeping him there? 

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Amanda coaxed again. 

Then, turning away from the bench and his little hiding place by the bench, he lifted his foot and crawled up onto her hand. 

A shiver ran through her body as she felt his weight in her hand. Amanda thought he might vanish or that she might wake up at any moment, the whole thing being a dream. Instead, this impossibly small life crawled into a ball in the center of her hand, shivering and casting uncertain glances at her every few seconds. 

She couldn’t believe it. His weight was like a stack of just a few quarters in her palm. He wiped his eyes with the back of his dirt smudged hand. He looked up and met Amanda’s gaze once again, making her heart skip the next few beats. All at once, the fear and anxiety of being around this little boy in her hands melted away and was replaced by a protective surge she wasn’t expecting. 

“Hey there,” she said softly, curling her fingers so he wouldn’t accidentally fall. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” 

The boy locked eyes with her and blinked. Was it just her imagination? Or was there some recognition in his eyes at her words? Then, amazingly, he offered the first little smile she had seen since discovering him. That look on his face alone created a wordless connection between them. Amanda could see the boy’s insightfulness, even at his young age, and it only strengthened her resolve to protect him. 

Without severing their eye-contact, she stood and began the trek back home.  Amanda never had such a nerve wracking walk back to her apartment. Keeping the boy steady in her hands step after step was a terrifying venture all on its own. Still, the most terrifying events were yet to come. 

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

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Beginning

[mocksart]

More information regarding my little borrower AU

It goes like this:

The Narrator is a “retired” animal behavioral scientist. His career ended several years ago when he was terminated from his position at a prestigious lab.

Now, he lives alone in an average sized house in the country, away from the activity and noise of the city, away from judgemental stares and whispered words behind his back.

He is safe here. He doesn’t have to worry about what anyone thinks. He is quite comfortable staying right where he is - thank you very much.

A dear friend even stops by to drop off groceries for him once a week.

One week, he receives an unexpected item amongst his delivery.

[ittybluebell]

why is liking and obsessing over g/t so EMBARRASSING like i get a lil panicky whenever the topic skirts close to it. it's my biggest interest but i can't TALK about it, y'know? it's not even that weird but it's JUST outside the range of normal. you can talk about liking tall people or about lady d from re and transformers but GOD FORBID you want to be five inches tall

[sirkackingtonsketch]

she’s just borrowing some sugar!!!

[kxttsstuff]

Sense of humor

🧵;; You may find your borrower friend, despite being an avid survivor, also a great comedian in their own strange ways. This is not uncommon, as humor is a sign of inherent trust. Humor is essential for borrowers to cope with stress and the difficulties of their lives, but it is more reserved to close relationships since it can have ambivalent attitudes.

🧵;; Borrowers don't grasp sarcasm, or at least not the way humans do. For them it's very important (sometimes even related to their survival) to be direct and honest with each other, so sarcasm may be taken seriously and cause awkward moments or unnecessary misunderstandings, as it may come off as rude or inappropriate, and with the right tone and words, you may even start a fight. That is not to say borrowers don't have their own sarcasm, but it is less used when talking about someone with that someone, and more about describing particular situations or people to others. This is why borrower humor is HIGHLY context-based:

🐿️;; The borrower way of being funny and unserious often uses exaggeration as a resource (also a way of subtle sarcasm, eh?) For example; “This door is heavier than a bag full of thumbtacks!”

🐿️;; To show you are incapable of doing something that is considered “easy” on purpose (by being clumsy, slow, or manual tasks like sewing) can be seen as funny in a right context, with the right tone and expression. For example, faking being an idiot at climbing. Of course, you may be actually an idiot and it would be seen as equally if not funnier. Be careful to do this around those who are not your friends, or they'll make a poor opinion about you. Also, some borrowers may display a sense of ironic pity at someone else being poor at a task, whether on purpose or not.

🐿️;; Borrowers are a bit more desensitized to death, blood, and other “survival stuff” humans may find weird. So to make the most of it, they sometimes make jokes related to the unique struggles they face as a species. “You wouldn't believe it, but I've had mouse liver and it tasted better than this piece of old bread”.

🐿️;; Though some Borrowers do mock humans for various reasons (whether with shadowed honest opinions or just the dose of unique borrower sarcasm), it is not safe to assume they all share these kind of jokes or consider them okay.

🧵;; Borrowers love to laugh at themselves, especially the young. However, you might not ever hear them joke about their own traditions or ancestors, there is a well-defined limit they unconsciously know.

🧵;; Because it is required as a core value to “be a good borrower”, most of them are perceptive regarding this topic, and will notice when the joke they made went too far or went misunderstood, quickly going back to a safe spot. Same way they will notice when the other is trying too hard to be funny, which is not well received.

🧵;; If the joke wasn't funny or it didn't make sense, most borrowers won't laugh or even smile out of courtesy, rather asking questions (not pointing out how awful it was) as to not let the warm convo turn into a deep silence.