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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
He pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. If he really has to spell it out for her, she might not be...
Ah, might as well ask.
"How old are you?"
no subject
"Eighteen years old. I turned eighteen in December."
The very first day of December of last year, to be exact.
"Why do you ask?"
no subject
Slowly, he pushes himself up into a "sitting" position, and he idly brushes off the sand that's dried against his well-cut front.
"Well, miss, you should try thinking outside the box. Take what you've heard a little less literally...and consider my demeanor. You haven't caught me at a "good time"--I'm always like this."
Laid-back and calm, anyway. The laziness is just a passing thing.
no subject
"I had been considering your demeanor from the beginning. You do not seem like a murderer. Rather the "hunting" here refers to something entirely different and has nothing to do with anyone being eaten in the literal sense."
It's not like she was completely inexperienced and she pauses for a quiet, worried moment,
"You are not selling yourself?"
Hey, he told her to think outside of the box.
no subject
Oh, she's cute.
"Could if I wanted, given how many come back for seconds. Or thirds. Or tenths. But nah, I..."
He pauses, trying to decide how he wants to put it.
"I like spending time with these people. If I didn't, I'd chase 'em off."
no subject
"I am very glad to hear that."
And then because it finally occurs to her, "Were you waiting for someone then? Or may I stay?"
no subject
no subject
"I do not mind at all."
In fact, she's standing and taking his hands to pull him over to the water with a faintly alarmed look on her face over the thought that she'd possibly been keeping him out of the water to talk to her and hadn't noticed that he was starting to dry out.
"You need not ask my permission. Are you all right? It does not hurt?"
no subject
It's a long, awkward journey back to the water, and it takes a while just to get to a depth where he can take off underwater, doing a small u-turn and returning to where he can sit on the sandy shore with his lower half submerged.
"That's better," he says, running a hand through his seawater-soaked hair to slick it back.
no subject
"Thank goodness."
And because water was running down his cheek she reaches up to wipe it off.
no subject
"You're a sweetheart...even if your curiosity is going to get you killed some day. What's your name?"
no subject
She'd always been taught that curiosity was a good thing though. Well, at least he was laughing and seemed at ease.
"My name is Veronica. And yours?"
no subject
"Tell me a bit about yourself."
no subject
She smiles with a little tilt of her head as she wiggles her toes in the cool water, "That is quite a mouthful."
But all teasing aside, she leans her chin against her knees, "What would you like to know? About what I am studying? Hobbies?"
no subject
no subject
His shoulder is ever so slightly cool still from the water and it's comfortable against her own bare shoulder, "I only recently returned to New Cloudbank so I confess that I am still not familiar with the places and the people. It has been fun though to explore and the sunsets here are beautiful. I am studying photography, and knitting. Oh, and cooking as well. Cooking is quite a lot of fun and I do think I am improving. What about you?"
She smiles, not calling him Whatever-I-want-it-to-be, "Have you lived here for long?"