I hope this will be a healing message...... I keep thinking of making a high-humanity P laugh really hard 🥹 like doing or saying something he thinks is SO hilarious that he is literally on the floor, gasping for breath, unable to speak because he is genuinely dying with laughter.
Prolly would take some real tame shit to make him laugh like that too. Like a funny drawing.
I will keel over and die but in a happy, positive way. If you would allow me to add onto this though I’d like to think the higher the humanity the more his body reacts to touch, I think he’d be ticklish!
His head is in your lap, the usual resting place for him on sunny afternoons like this. The heat makes everyone sleepy and with Krat no longer under eminent threat P can finally just laze around and relax to his heart’s content.
The light turns his hair a chocolate brown as you run your fingers through it slowly, stopping every now and again to scratch at his scalp which earns you a happy hum and a beautiful, closed eye smile. Your other hand rests on the warm skin of his chest, visible through the opening in his shirt.
You can feel the steady beat of his heart under your palm, and the hand of his legion arm is laying on top of your own, squeezing every now and again to tell you that he’s not asleep, he promises he won’t fall asleep, he’s a liar but he’s happy and you don’t mind and he knows you don’t mind.
The heat is turning your mind syrupy but not enough that you don’t notice him flinch ever so slightly when the hand in his hair brushes against the length of his neck, his eyebrows furrow for only a moment but the idea is already in your head.
You only wish to test your theory.
As gently as you can you brush your fingers against his neck again, this time with far more intention. P jerks up, trying to escape your hold but you’re already one step ahead, having braced your arm across his front to trap him against you.
A beautiful sound falls from him, you can feel it through his back as much as you can hear it, he’s laughing!
A proper, joyful, bordering on hysterical laugh. The sound was higher pitched than his talking voice, but was still rich and warm. You come to realise that this is the loudest he’s ever been, you don’t think you’ve ever heard P raise his voice. It’s nice to see him let loose, smiling big, broad and unabashedly.
With everything over and the state of his humanity clear, watching him navigate the ways he was taken advantage of was a careful thing. He’d become well acquainted with being angry and with being sad, so the moments when you could have him rolling on the floor, losing his mind over something silly was a blessing in every sense of the word.
You pushed him forward, the two of you wrestling against your bedsheets until you came out victorious. You sat straddled atop his stomach, digging your fingers into his neck as he squirmed and pleaded for mercy,
“Stop stop, I can’t breathe,” he laughed, throwing his head back and then pulling his chin toward his chest in hopes of trapping your hands.
You continued your assault of feather light touches, poking and prodding at other areas you thought might also be ticklish.
His chest, his armpits, his sides. It was the prod to his stomach that made him yell suddenly and almost throw you off of him entirely, as you tried to recover your balance he swept your wrists between one hand, breathing heavily as he tried to calm down.
“What… was that?” He asked breathlessly, smiling up at you dazedly.
“Tickling,” you hummed, also catching your breath.
“I thought I was gonna die,” he groaned dramatically, “do it again.”
“Catch your breath first,” you instructed, breaking your hands free of his grasp gently, “it’s nice to see you laughing, you deserve to be happy.”
His eyebrows turned upward as he soaked in your earnestness, a quiet thank you said with his eyes. His hands brushed against your outer thighs, you squirmed with a giggle and a mischievous smile took over his face.
“No,” you warned, “Pino don’t!”
He dug his fingers into your sides, copying your movements and making you squeal, he’d always been a quick learner.
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I think one of my favorite things about Prisoner's character is how much his jokes (to himself, because he is isolated and voiceless in a zombie apocalypse) about having no standards betray how much he has standards.
He comments how he should have a moment of silence for a dead prisoner before interrupting his own moment claiming he has better things to do, even though he is the only person who asked, and given the spacing of the comments, does it anyway, even if he kicks the body afterward.
He has several comments about riffling through others' stuff including one that is justifying it to himself because they're all dead, even though he says it's wrong to rummage in what wasn't his, and then later a comment that you "start to like it" and it's a great way to save on money suggesting despite his obvious, consistent, and mostly unrestrained glee at finding new things, he still feels a little guilty about it.
He also gripes at one of the two wells you can find in the Promenade that he's getting tired of crawling into the darkness and the wet.
(the comments about looting are also interesting how little theft Prisoner actually commits on anything alive- you can smash the golden doors or rip off the bank- which even has an achievement for it- or deny the Collector cells by breaking the door, but you notably can't rob the nearly stationary merchants even though they appear to have no way of preventing you from doing so. the implication seems to be Prisoner just refuses to!)
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which YA princess archetype should you kiss?
❀ || the otherworldly fae with a secret
you have often been warned about the supernatural in your travels, but you love the world too dearly to be cautious. you do not notice the shadows growing longer, the moon swelling in the sky. you take a soil sample and it smells of sea salt and something metallic. the trees rustle, whisper to you. all you hear is wonder. your princess reveals herself to you as a mirage. she flickers, and you know resolutely in that moment: you would chase her to the ends of the earth. time falls away. when you finally stumble upon a clearing, shaded in blues, she is there. her dress aglow. her hair darker than the shadows. starlight catches in her teeth when she smiles at you. there is dirt underneath your fingernails, scratches latticed up your bruised shins. contrary to your eagerness, you are not stupid. your princess is known throughout the land, the locked away scion of the faerie queen. she devours travellers, they say. beware. but all she does is caress your cheek, blink at you with her mournful eyes, and you know there is more to the story. you are a curious sort of person. you hope. this is your most precious weapon. but you can be shrewd, when you need it. your heart is crystalline. your princess wants something of you. you know this, but she does not take it. she shows you her kingdom, this miracle, and she asks. that’s all it ever takes. you go to her. the world will never be the same.
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Update: I took your advice and said no but he grabbed me and now I'm in his basement and he is making a very suspicious dinner and there are other kids here what do I do
(one of the kids just peed himself)
If you are in real danger you don't send an anonymous ask to a random tumblr blog but write to the people that can save you, like your family, friends, police.
And if you are not in danger - which at this point I’m convinced it's the case - and still write such things to me for fun or whatever reason, then please STOP DOING IT RIGHT NOW. I have limited free time and energy that should be used at something better than to wonder what the fuck is going on or to worry about an anonymous stranger’s safety. I do not want to be part of your game/roleplaying/fantasy/social test or whatever the hell people on the internet do these days. Call me old-fashioned but for me to make up stories like that, especially involving children, is in poor taste and unacceptable, so please stop doing it or go bother someone who may like it.
Seriously people, the anon ask is open if you need it and I don’t wanna turn it off but this is not an invitation to worry me for your own fucked amusement. I can tolerate out of nowhere questions about fictional characters’ sexuality or their sexual relationship because at worst I will be simply not interested but this kind of stuff is not something I want to see ever again in my askbox. Please, respect my boundaries and DO NOT BOTHER ME EVER AGAIN IN SUCH FASHION.
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ever think about the fact that when white cishet men paint a picture of an upsidedown world by conjuring up farfetched scenarios such as "can you imagine the UPROAR that it would cause if i said that EVERY gay person or woman or black person is inherently bad and potentially dangerous like y'all be saying about cis straight white men??? it would be unthinkable and crazy and yet no one bats an eye when men are actively demonised in that very same fashion. nowadays these so-called minorities are untouchable while us men, we're fair game!!!".... they're actually admitting that they're so uneasy in this new position they've only recently started to occupy?? for the first time in our long history, men are not on the jury, they're actually sitting in the defendant's seat and it must feel so unnatural. and even then, they only get scrutinized or held accountable in very limited restricted social bubbles where intersectional feminism has begun to take root and circulate freely. bubbles that can easily burst when the patriarchal reality in which we all live in gets in the way. so of fucking course men will resist and disrupt this new narrative that they actually have something to deconstruct, unlearn, even atone for, with every means necessary, including these far-reaching absurd nonsensical tableaux where minorities and women take over and get their revenge, ever oblivious to the fact that by saying so, they're openly and naively admitting to the systemic discriminations, abuse and power imbalance that currently and for the past thousand years has put them on top.
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