consentacle fun, etc.
The following prompts can be BYOM (bring your own monster) if you so desire! Anything goes. Literally anything.
"Monsters" are common around here. They always have been. While many societies choose to revere them as gods or use them to instill fear into ill-behaved children, the monsters of New Cloudbank are one with the people and have been able to hold jobs, own property and self, and vote; freedoms gained from a civil movement some decades ago. While societal integration has gone somewhat smoothly, there is some resistance held by conservative individuals that look down on monster-human relations and hold the untrue belief that some of the less humanshape monsters are a threat to people.
Boxer is an example of one such creature. His upper body is proportionally larger than any human; that if he stood on human legs he would easily reach thirteen feet tall, cut like someone who exercises on a needlessly regular schedule. However, he does not stand on human legs at all, but rather a numerous set of tentacles, rich cocoa-brown like the rest of his skin, decorated with stark yellow stripes at their base and a line of dots along their topsides, lined with dark golden suction cups on the opposite side, and delicate membranes between them. His yellow accents, including his eyes, glow under dark enough conditions to see them.
He's never harmed a human in his life, much rather the opposite if anything, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a reputation for it...
Errands.
A monster's gotta eat.
Of course, he doesn't have to drop by for meat, as the only thing he puts on his table are things he caught with his own hands swimming in the depths outside of the bay. But frying fish in its own juices does not a meal plan make, so regular supermarket trips are the solution to well-rounded meals.
But he can't quite get around like everyone else, on account of boneless tentacles being designed more for underwater agility than, well, walking. So he has to opt for a wheelchair, one custom-built to accommodate his bulk and allows him to comfortably use his extra appendages for his wheel-based mobility while keeping his hands free.
Although being just shy of wheelchair-bound on land, he's at less disadvantage than one might think, using his long tentacles to snatch things off of the topmost shelf with length to spare. Otherwise, he tries to keep them hidden under a soft, knitted blanket, for the comfort of strangers, who tend to stare anyway. (Oh well.) He likes to joke that it's not his form, but the fact that he chooses to dress somewhat formally even for his mundane outings, even though he knows that's not the case.
Maybe you're the one struggling to reach that favorite item of yours so conveniently stashed just beyond finger's grasp on the top shelf.
"Here. I'll get that for you," he says, with an easy smile.
Bet you weren't prepared for a tentacle to hand you something when you went out today.
Shore.
This quiet little section of the beach is usually deserted, rumored to be the place where feral monsters hunt for humans. Now this, this is a rumor that is entirely Boxer's fault, purposely spread to his few visitors so he could have this little piece of heaven all to himself.
Maybe you're a regular here. Maybe you're a brave new first-time visitor, hopefully to catch sight of the man-eating monster for yourself. Either way, the sight is hardly as intimidating as the legend: he's sprawled out naked on the warm sand, basking in the sunlight that beats against his bare, chiseled back as he naps.
Scary.
Water.
New Cloudbank is a large city-state with bustling seaside commerce, full of fishery companies, international trade, and tourism. A water-dweller like Boxer is almost never without work, since many companies are chomping at the bit to commission an strong, amphibious monster to survey the deep for the next best catch, keeping the water safe, or mounting rescues for wayward tourists.
He loves what he does for a living.
Maybe you, too, are of similar business, using your nonhuman physiology to your advantage in the outer bay waters, catching Boxer in the middle of what he does best. Or maybe you're simply a patron of these companies--for Boxer, as brazen as he is to get a free drink, will gladly suction-cup climb his way into boats and schmooze with locals and tourists alike.
Wildcard!

"Monsters" are common around here. They always have been. While many societies choose to revere them as gods or use them to instill fear into ill-behaved children, the monsters of New Cloudbank are one with the people and have been able to hold jobs, own property and self, and vote; freedoms gained from a civil movement some decades ago. While societal integration has gone somewhat smoothly, there is some resistance held by conservative individuals that look down on monster-human relations and hold the untrue belief that some of the less humanshape monsters are a threat to people.
Boxer is an example of one such creature. His upper body is proportionally larger than any human; that if he stood on human legs he would easily reach thirteen feet tall, cut like someone who exercises on a needlessly regular schedule. However, he does not stand on human legs at all, but rather a numerous set of tentacles, rich cocoa-brown like the rest of his skin, decorated with stark yellow stripes at their base and a line of dots along their topsides, lined with dark golden suction cups on the opposite side, and delicate membranes between them. His yellow accents, including his eyes, glow under dark enough conditions to see them.
He's never harmed a human in his life, much rather the opposite if anything, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a reputation for it...
Errands.
A monster's gotta eat.
Of course, he doesn't have to drop by for meat, as the only thing he puts on his table are things he caught with his own hands swimming in the depths outside of the bay. But frying fish in its own juices does not a meal plan make, so regular supermarket trips are the solution to well-rounded meals.
But he can't quite get around like everyone else, on account of boneless tentacles being designed more for underwater agility than, well, walking. So he has to opt for a wheelchair, one custom-built to accommodate his bulk and allows him to comfortably use his extra appendages for his wheel-based mobility while keeping his hands free.
Although being just shy of wheelchair-bound on land, he's at less disadvantage than one might think, using his long tentacles to snatch things off of the topmost shelf with length to spare. Otherwise, he tries to keep them hidden under a soft, knitted blanket, for the comfort of strangers, who tend to stare anyway. (Oh well.) He likes to joke that it's not his form, but the fact that he chooses to dress somewhat formally even for his mundane outings, even though he knows that's not the case.
Maybe you're the one struggling to reach that favorite item of yours so conveniently stashed just beyond finger's grasp on the top shelf.
"Here. I'll get that for you," he says, with an easy smile.
Bet you weren't prepared for a tentacle to hand you something when you went out today.
Shore.
This quiet little section of the beach is usually deserted, rumored to be the place where feral monsters hunt for humans. Now this, this is a rumor that is entirely Boxer's fault, purposely spread to his few visitors so he could have this little piece of heaven all to himself.
Maybe you're a regular here. Maybe you're a brave new first-time visitor, hopefully to catch sight of the man-eating monster for yourself. Either way, the sight is hardly as intimidating as the legend: he's sprawled out naked on the warm sand, basking in the sunlight that beats against his bare, chiseled back as he naps.
Scary.
Water.
New Cloudbank is a large city-state with bustling seaside commerce, full of fishery companies, international trade, and tourism. A water-dweller like Boxer is almost never without work, since many companies are chomping at the bit to commission an strong, amphibious monster to survey the deep for the next best catch, keeping the water safe, or mounting rescues for wayward tourists.
He loves what he does for a living.
Maybe you, too, are of similar business, using your nonhuman physiology to your advantage in the outer bay waters, catching Boxer in the middle of what he does best. Or maybe you're simply a patron of these companies--for Boxer, as brazen as he is to get a free drink, will gladly suction-cup climb his way into boats and schmooze with locals and tourists alike.
Wildcard!

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No, just me.
[He opts to clean her clothes by hand (or more accurately, by tentacle) in his kitchen sink, since he doesn't have a washer and dryer, despite having the hookups for it. What little clothes he has are formal, which means they get dry-cleaned anyway.]
Not for lack of trying. It's complicated...those that are compatible sexually aren't always compatible intellectually, and vise versa. At least I've learned how to weed out the people in it for their fetish in under an hour.
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While it's a relief to know that she didn't accidentally home-wreck - it's happened before, unfortunately - she can't help feeling kind of sympathetic. Dating is bullshit, and for as pretty as she is even Nariko had gotten tired of it after a certain point, and the idea of returning to all that wasn't endearing, either.]
I feel like you should tell me who those people are so I can find and punch them for being gross pieces of shit. [... Except that sounds a certain, so she over explains,] I mean, there's definitely nothing wrong with being into it, I'm not sure I would want to go for someone that didn't like my boobs or something. [What a terrible comparison.]
Still, that's a special kind of asshole. [And apparently if he's going to be competitive against dream robots, she's going to be protective.]
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[He puts it so gingerly.]
On the opposite end, the prudes...well, calling them prude is kind of mean, but they expect me to reign in my libido...as if I could. Believe me, I've tried, and I quickly found out why my kind have such violent streaks.
I tried negotiating. You know--if they weren't willing to have sex that frequently, I could still find others. If they didn't want me sleeping around, they could actively help me out. It's just...
[He inhales sharply through his teeth.]
Sexual incompatibility. That's all. No one's fault.
[One long, self-conscious beat later...]
Sorry about the rant. It's...just frustrating.
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[He really does seem like a nice guy, blessedly sane and grounded, so she doesn't mind lending an ear, it's the least she can do for what he's given her. But she does reach around to find his exfoliant and put it to good use.] No one gets to pick and choose what they like about a person, I can't think of any relationship that exists without compromise, that's just - [She makes a gesture, but he's still at the sink, right? So he probably doesn't see.] It's bullshit. People are allowed to be different, and they're supposed to be adult enough to find common ground! Especially with someone they might want to make an actual life with, sex included.
[Judging by the slightly heated tone of her voice she has some feelings about the subject as well.]
People are just ridiculous, and even if it's no one's fault that doesn't make it any less painful to go through.
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[He rolls into the bathroom shortly after, with her wet laundry on what is basically his lap. It's a little bit of a stretch from sitting, but he ties up a rope between a hook on the door and towel rod.]
Sounds like you've got a story of your own.
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[But maybe she was wrong. Who could say. By the time he's made his way towards her she's mostly done, now she's just a little too lazy to force herself out.]
Everyone's got a story, that's part of the fun. [She notes what he's doing and then feels a little bad - of course a guy who lives in the sea won't have a washer and dryer. Oops.]
Mine's just boring. Chick meets guy, stays with him for nearly four years, chick gets dumped! The end.
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[Dude, don't worry about it. It's a bikini set and a cover-up. That's not even enough water to wash his face. He pins the garments to the line to dry.]
That's a long time, Noriko. People get married in less time than that.
[Come on, don't hold back all the juicy details after he just finished pouring out his heart.]
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It's just - I don't know. I never really pushed it up until now? I had to finish school, work kicked my ass for the first year, things are finally calming down so I thought now would be a good time to ... [It's almost like she hesitates to say the words, as if all men are going to be mentally scarred by them.] Think about buying something permanent, save some money, and start considering the possibilities of a tiny human that would have to incubate in my stomach for nine months.
[It's really all quite benign.] One of my best friends is actually getting married in a month. The whole thing started because I made a joke about looking at dresses with her.
[She huffs, rolls her eyes.] I felt so bad about it when I saw the look on his face, like I'd asked him to chop a third of his dick off.
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(Well, he thinks he's sitting still. Turns out that his tentacles like to fidget at the ends quite a bit.)
She had everything in the basket. Fought the good fight and got her feet on solid ground. What man wouldn't tie the knot with her after all that hard work, after all that time, being by her side through it all?
He kneads at his hands a little, letting out a frustrated huff. God, it's tempting, but is it appropriate? Too forward?
Oh, hell with it. He looks over his shoulder at her.]
Do you want to go on a date later this week?
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All of that's interrupted by his huffing, it snaps her out of her spiraling thoughts. She's about to apologize for going on about herself when he ...
... Asks that.]
I - [He's asking her on a date after she told him all of that?] Yes!
[And she's agreeing despite having broken up with her boyfriend like a week ago.]
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Oh, right.
[He wheels himself out of the bedroom shortly to retrieve the menu for the BBQ place. Unsurprisingly, it's laminated, so there's no hesitation when he hands it over to her while she's still in the tub.]
Hope you're still hungry.
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[She takes the menu, but she really can't see the words all too well. She's ... Got a date with a really hot guy. That she's already slept with! At least she knows he's good in bed.] Quick question, though.
[There's a full rack of ribs. She's definitely getting that. And, oh, baked potatoes!!!]
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Yeah? What's that?
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[She waves the menu a little, more idle than anything else.] Who am I kidding, I can't go that long without kissing.
[But if he's not cool with it then she'll understand.]
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[He smirks.] After all, I need to make sure that I can bend you over all of my furniture. [Even though the way he has sex doesn't necessarily involve bending.
Without skipping a beat--] So is that what you want? The full rack of baby back and a potato? You can get another side.
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Cole slaw. [Standing up carefully she starts to wring out her hair.] And you're cute but I don't trust myself to share, so go wild, I'm paying.
[She ... Doesn't exactly leave room for debate the fact, either. But he can try to insist otherwise if he's brave - or stubborn.]
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Look, I...uh, appreciate the offer, but...I eat four times as much as a human does in one sitting, so...
[Don't....don't pay for a 200+ check all on your own, Noriko.]
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Okay. My card's in my bag.
[You have warned her, Boxer, and that's about all one can do. She spends about that much on clothes every week, it's not a big deal for her. So while she's be open to splitting if he's really that uncomfortable with it the cost isn't a problem. It's an incredibly small price when compared to how much fun she's having anyway.]
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I'll, ah, go make the call.
[Aaaand he goes and scoots out of the bathroom to do so. And yes, he does decide to split it evenly between the two of them. He justifies it by figuring she's staying the night and he's drinking her beer.
He'll have transferred himself to the couch by the time she comes out of the bathroom.]
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That, or she's just uselessly nervous because he asked her out before she could go ahead and do it.
No matter the case she has to believe he'd tell her or give some egregious sign of his upset, there's no use winding herself up into a panic. So when she leaves the bathroom (with the towel wrapped around herself, because her clothes are drying and she doesn't want to get too cold) she looks a little more relaxed than she actually feels but drops herself next to him on the couch anyway. If he lets her she leans against him - his arm or side, she won't try to push him into holding her or anything.]
So, what's with the name? Or were your parents amazing enough to really name you 'Boxer'?
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As if it were automatic, Boxer holds out a hand over her so that she can snuggle up against his side. He's big and comfortable enough to be his own couch, really, but he can wrap an arm around her to rest his massive hand idly against her hip.
Feels like they're settled in to watch a movie or something. It's nice.]
Oh, I don't have a birth name. Never met my parents--been on my own since the day I hatched.
I wandered up to the shores of New Cloudbank when I was an adolescent, back when I was light enough that I had decent mobility on land. The sailors and fishermen basically raised me. I had a tendency to jump into brawls 'cause I thought they were fun, and I quickly got pretty good at it. That's when people finally came up with a unanimous nickname for me, and it stuck.
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While he answers she draws a heart on his chest, and then a weird swirling pattern that probably doesn't mean anything.
You know, she really thought he was just giving out a fake name for the sake of anonymity.]
Does it normally happen like that? Just being left on your own.
[There's no pity in the question because, well, if that's how things are done it really isn't her place to judge. Especially not when he's turned out pretty well as far as she can see.]
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[In other words, his best guess is that yes, it is. His unoccupied hand lazily chases her doodling one, eventually coming up to play with her fingers, gently between his. Despite their size, he has very dexterous fingers, manipulating hers without the slightest bit of clumsy movement.]
Most monsterkind have family structures a lot like humans'. At least, moreso than just being abandoned. I'd really like to think that I was just written off as being part of a dud clutch...but I'll never really know.
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Hm.
[Yeah, that might be the case, it's not like she has anymore of an idea than he does.] Maybe there was a reason, and that reason probably won't ever actually be good enough, [How could there be a good enough reason to abandon your child? It's beyond her.] and it was like, well, maybe you had to be the stronger one, for whatever reason. Strong enough to be on your own like that.
[She lifts their joined hands and playfully knocks at his chin,] Which makes your name fitting, right? Because you grew up to be one hell of a boxer!
[Nice place, great smile, a job (apparently, this district wasn't cheap), it fits.
Also, he's getting a preview of the far reaching, ridiculous jokes ahead of time. He'll have to decide if he wants to deal with them or not, because they're sort of a bad habit.]
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Wellll, maybe not. Still love it, but my mobility on land is terrible now that I'm this size. I'll spar when I can, with those I can trust not to play dirty, but we pretty much keep it to our circle of friends.
That's not what pays for all of this. I'm a contractor--for the city, for local businesses. I keep the waters clean...mount rescue missions...monitor sea life. That kind of thing.
What do you do? Must be something nice, if you're willing to feed me on your dime.
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The end of chapter 1??