[...There's a dude chowing down on another dude in, like...
...the middle of an open street. Not a dinky little residential avenue, either. This is, like, a big ol' city street. I mean - the citizens are giving him wide berth, because of course they are, but still. Looks like... someone left his hunger unchecked for too long...?
Want to call him out for his indiscretion? Maybe just... see what the deal is?
...'Cause if so, absolutely delighted to have someone he can voice his complaints to at hand now, he's gonna grumble and look up -- well, no, actually, not look up, just... lift his head up from the poor sap's torn-open stomach, mouth full of intestines and face full of purple-and-white bear.]
I cannot believe I forgot how revolting - eugh - EATING is.
Now, don't get me wrong --
[A glint in his eyes and a grin...?
...Mouth still full of intestines?]
-- the excruciating, indescribable, unbearable pain that racked every bone in my body during the first night of the fog absolutely chilled me. A vampire... who is also a werewolf or a werebear?
So disruptive! And a walking obliteration of all those baseless cliches dictating that vampires and wereanimals can't coexist!
[...Aaaaand that glint turns into a roll, behind a couple of itty-bitty definitely-not-made-for-a-bear nerd glasses.
...Also, there sure are still intestines hanging from his teeth.]
...Although I may have a complaint to file with the so-called Fog God over how weak her jokes are. A spectacled bear? She may as well have turned me into a jumping spider with four eyes. It's not even ironic. It's not even a pun! It's just a lazy, lazy joke.
[...Aaaand finally, he looks at you dead-on.
His face is the picture of "flatly unimpressed".
...And also, he still has those intestines dangling from his teeth.]
But I've gone without eating for over four hundred years. A very good track record, if you ask me, and I can't believe that I have to start again now.
It's such an unrefined practice -- all the chewing, swallowing, saliva, digestion...
And who's going to want to take part in elaborate, meaningful discourse on human and monster arts and culture alike with a monster they've seen with intestines dangling from their teeth like some sort of barbarian??
[...]
Besides, I think part of the criteria for defining oneself as a "starving artist" is, well. Starving.
B. Wildcard.
[Have an idea for another prompt, or would you like to request one? Feel free to lay it on me or hit me up, either here or at schmendricks!]
Liam de Lioncourt | Monster Prom
[...There's a dude chowing down on another dude in, like...
...the middle of an open street. Not a dinky little residential avenue, either. This is, like, a big ol' city street. I mean - the citizens are giving him wide berth, because of course they are, but still. Looks like... someone left his hunger unchecked for too long...?
Want to call him out for his indiscretion? Maybe just... see what the deal is?
...'Cause if so, absolutely delighted to have someone he can voice his complaints to at hand now, he's gonna grumble and look up -- well, no, actually, not look up, just... lift his head up from the poor sap's torn-open stomach, mouth full of intestines and face full of purple-and-white bear.]
I cannot believe I forgot how revolting - eugh - EATING is.
Now, don't get me wrong --
[A glint in his eyes and a grin...?
...Mouth still full of intestines?]
-- the excruciating, indescribable, unbearable pain that racked every bone in my body during the first night of the fog absolutely chilled me. A vampire... who is also a werewolf or a werebear?
So disruptive! And a walking obliteration of all those baseless cliches dictating that vampires and wereanimals can't coexist!
[...Aaaaand that glint turns into a roll, behind a couple of itty-bitty definitely-not-made-for-a-bear nerd glasses.
...Also, there sure are still intestines hanging from his teeth.]
...Although I may have a complaint to file with the so-called Fog God over how weak her jokes are. A spectacled bear? She may as well have turned me into a jumping spider with four eyes. It's not even ironic. It's not even a pun! It's just a lazy, lazy joke.
[...Aaaand finally, he looks at you dead-on.
His face is the picture of "flatly unimpressed".
...And also, he still has those intestines dangling from his teeth.]
But I've gone without eating for over four hundred years. A very good track record, if you ask me, and I can't believe that I have to start again now.
It's such an unrefined practice -- all the chewing, swallowing, saliva, digestion...
And who's going to want to take part in elaborate, meaningful discourse on human and monster arts and culture alike with a monster they've seen with intestines dangling from their teeth like some sort of barbarian??
[...]
Besides, I think part of the criteria for defining oneself as a "starving artist" is, well. Starving.
B. Wildcard.
[Have an idea for another prompt, or would you like to request one? Feel free to lay it on me or hit me up, either here or at