![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
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
Sorry, Sybil. If you're going to make him think you know sign, he's going to use slang. With a tentacle. It's hard mode time, baby.
Don't brush off my concern. I've seriously hurt people doing far less than that.
God...what's the point. Lazily, he signs Nevermind, before laying back down in the bottom of his tank.When did Sybil ever care about his concerns? Like, really care, in a way that wasn't just weaving contract agreements?
--So hungry. Where's his caretaker? She should be showing up with food soon...
no subject
"Okay, less teasing." She pauses, before adding. "I apologize."
But more importantly was that last bit. She gives a second that seems like it's for his benefit, but really she's trying to pick her words here. "Would you trust if I said I would stop you from going too far?" She considers it for a moment. "Its easy for me to tease when I'm tough, but I had a good time."
Also that caretaker he's after? She's arriving now with that food, pretty much exactly on schedule. Convenient!
no subject
Boxer heaves out what looks like a sigh, even though it works a little differently than if he was breathing air.
Without hurting either one of us? He throws out some signs that don't translate to anything cohesive, until: I'm okay most of the time, but I don't know what I'll do when I'm on drugs.
man i need to think about that, i'm so glad you catch the little details; sorry i miss them
She gets where he's coming from. He's a big scary sea monster, she's a big scary dragon, they're both big scary beasts who could do a lot of damage. She contemplates his signs for a few moments afterward, amused that he straight up said he was on drugs rather than being more creative and saying he wasn't in a normal state of mind. She'd have to inquire about his language choices later, she wasn't as familiar with sign as she'd like and... honestly? She barely got the chance to use it with anyone, so most of her knowledge was book knowledge anyway. Not perfect.
Now with her robe around her and herself a little more presentable, though certainly not presentable enough for the public eye, she moves closer to the glass and grins.
"We could always wrestle." She says it with such amusement. "To get an idea of our strengths and how we may stop each other."
She's at a disadvantage because she has less limbs, but with her strength maybe they might be closer to an even match than she thinks. Against his hometown advantage in the water though, she's not confident she can stop him. But the only way to know would be to try.
it's ok i love you anyway <3
A fine idea in theory, but I won't be well enough to do something like that for a while.
The implication being that there's probably something else that needs to be done to quell his concerns if she's planning to take advantage of his libido again any time soon.
scre
At his words, she gives a little nod. He was right, after all. He was also right about seeing through her intentions. Even if it was only 1% of her total plans, she still planned on putting that libido of his to the test, it would be lying to deny she had it in mind. Though the percentage was certainly above 1%, honestly.
"You will, sooner than you know, but for now..." She eyes his lunch as it gets lifted up, heading towards its final destination. If she's being honest, she'd like to hear from him. "What can I do, for you, to put you at ease?"
See? Now who said dragons were totally selfish? Gosh.
no subject
His caretaker says that she'll be back to check on him later after her rounds with everyone else. Boxer is subtly watching her and waiting for her to leave so he can pause between fish so he can sign at Sybil.
If I didn't hurt you earlier, I probably won't while I'm like this.
Chances are, anyway. The worst he could do is to rend flesh with his suckers, and as long as she doesn't try to escape or try to fight his holds, there's no risk of that.
if you're still up for this thread!
She considers signing back to him, but she hasn't had the practice to be anything near smooth. She's more articulate with her words, so she prefers them. But maybe with all the time they're going to spend together, he could change that? She wants to work on trust, and proving she wants to help, so she decides to try to sign at him.
You'll be strong again later. I'm tough, and so are you.
It's not the prettiest, but at least she gets her message across. She doesn't fumble any vocabulary, but she could do with some fluidity practice. Time to add some honesty, too, to this whole situation. She wants him more comfortable, and more open. Why would he be open if she wasn't? It's rare she gets to be so honest, though, so it's a foreign feeling.
Having you model here for me wasn't the only reason I was interested in you.
no subject
Still, he doesn't call her out on it. He just keeps feeding fish into his mouth and looking at her, waiting for her to continue to sign. Just how much of it is she going to bear to him?