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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!
no subject
Or maybe they've already been answered.
Said tentacle, instead of coming crashing down and cleaving the boat, wraps around the end of the yardarm and gives it a firm tug in 180 degrees, sending the boat careening in a sharp turn that points it in the opposite direction it was headed. The sudden shift in momentum surely knocks Al off his perch and into the boat, but he won't be alone to suffer. After the boat evens out, it starts tilting to the side as more tentacles crawl their way up onto it, almost to the point of fully capsizing as the owner of aforementioned tentacles climbs his way up onto the boat. Worry not, though, the only water the boat takes on is whatever sloshes off of this new companion that is making quick work of getting the mast properly set up, working the ropes like he's done it his whole life.
When everything is set and secure, the oversized creature turns around to address Al.]
Got a death wish or something? You were about to hit a nasty current for a boat this size.
[Of course it's chastising, but he says it with the calmest demeanor, as if he was just teasing him. Or maybe that's just how he talks. (It's the latter.) ]
no subject
Alphonse yelps when he gets knocked off, 'oof's when he hits the deck, scrambling to find something to hold onto or use as a weapon when whatever it is that's found him decides his fate. But moments later he's still alive and not underwater, only then does he somewhat relax, an oar in hand. Which...is somewhat slowly slipping out of his grip as he stares at his new companion. Not quite catching fish with his mouth.
"A-ah, no...?" He colors, realizing that he's staring and turns and looks at the wheel, "I thought I had my barrings locked when I went to go get that rope but... Well, I guess it got knocked loose."
lmao the formatting got away from me
The kraken invites himself to lounge casually across the front of the boat, making it lurch without actually tipping over or taking on more water.
"What possessed you to come out here by yourself when you don't know how to make a secure rigging? Not trying to be mean, here. I'm here to keep these waters safe."
's okay~
Alphonse gestures at the boat, "Second, how am I supposed to learn anything if I don't get a hands on experience? I'm tired of being cooped up indoors with only books to read." If it sounds like he's comfortable in this topic they're arguing about, it's because he is. Alphonse has had this fight with Ed so many times by now. But there isn't really fire in it because he does understand the strange...man creature's point.
"Besides, no one at the docks would come out with me."
no subject
He reclines back again.
"You're not gonna pull the wool over the eyes of an entire community of seasoned seafaring veterans. They're not going to help a rookie for free when their time is money, but..."
The monster twists his tentacles amongst each other, as if crossing his legs.
"This is the kind of thing the city pays me for, so I'm here now."
no subject
"It's not like I expected them to help me for free, either." He was going to pay them, but none of them had let him get that far in his proposal first. Then again, he shouldn't have started it with payment in the form of repairs and what not without explaining he was an alchemist.
His eyes do drift down to the tentacle movements, simply because it's not something he's used to seeing. But then they go back up to the other's eyes.
Alphonse is trying not to feel disheartened, but it's hard when all he can imagine the other doing is just taking him to shore. He doubts he could pay the other to be a teacher, there's no way he could afford what a whole town could pay. "Could I offer you some tea then before we head to shore then?"
no subject
His tentacles are never completely still, always in small amounts of movement. It doesn't help that they aren't subject to friction for the most part, only able to grip things when he chooses to.
"The shore...?" he asks, slowly, as if surprised that's where the other wants to go. He offers a shrug.
"Tea is fine, if you don't have anything...stronger." A sly grin. "That's usually what I get in the form of tips."
no subject
It's obvious from Alphonse's demeanor that it's not where he wants to go. At least not yet. He still wants to see the ocean for what he can in a day's time.
"Stronger? I...don't know if there's anything stronger than tea on board. I can check, mister...?"
no subject
"Whatever you'd like."
A tentacle elegantly reaches for the mast and coils around it, gently pulling it into another angle. The boat swiftly changes direction and points itself parallel to the city's coast.
"While you're at it, see if you can find a snorkeling gear. And a bathing suit...unless you don't mind skinny dipping."
no subject
Alphonse wobbles a little from the shift in the boat's direction, having started to head to the hatch leading below. "Sn-snorkeling gear?" He pauses and turns to face the other again, "Why would I need either of those?"
no subject
He gestures vaguely. "...Recreate."
Is that the word?
After all, no one in this city knows these waters like he does, and he's garnering a guess that Alphonse hasn't seen much of it. Not any of the hidden gems they leave out of the travel brochures for sure.