doku | consentacle fun, etc.

Entry tags:

open post,
smut

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He kept proving to be too smart, which was honestly a good thing. An intellectual challenge was far better than an intellectual bore. She'd thought her little show of humanity would make more of an impact, but apparently not. Oh well. For now he's making demands, and not one of them is unreasonable.

"A cleaning service can be supplied to keep it tidy while you're gone." She offers, she's only really half focused on this answer. In the back of her mind it doesn't even really register because he's not going back there? Eh.

"Of course." She places her wine glass down and intertwines her fingers as she answers. "The water in my home is untreated, and can be easily changed from fresh to salt depending on your needs. And you will have the same access as I do to beachfront locations and, by extension, the ocean." And if her connections paid off, there could even be a plan to visit one of the structures at the bottom of the ocean. Scientists used them primarily, if she remembered right. Unless they were science fiction? She honestly wasn't sure of the validity of that because she hadn't found anyone to inquire with. The past month had pushed her to do plenty of reading regarding aquatic creatures.

"Wonderful." She visibly brightens at the confirmation of the contract. "Then let us dine and celebrate, to a bright and famous future."

"No cleaners." He puts his proverbial foot down instantly. "Privacy thing. That's one of the reasons I want to keep it in the first place."

One wonders if someone who spends so much of her time exposed to the public would understand another who would rather spend their time cooped up and left alone. If he's at her place, he'd never feel like he had proper privacy, even if he did have locks or whatnot--it might be a territorial thing, he's not quite sure.

As their food is brought to them, Boxer closes his eyes with a soft, amused smirk. "I haven't signed anything yet, Ms. Reisz. But for what it's worth, I'd like to see the place with my own eyes."

Well, there goes that option to snoop into his private life. Or gather blackmail material. Or both. Not that she would blackmail him, but it never hurt to keep an ace up her sleeve. Even if she would use it. It didn't matter that it didn't make sense, it was reassuring to her even so.

She eyes the food as it arrives, but only briefly before he responds. "Of course. You are welcome to come at your convenience."

She'd rather he come sooner, predictably, but she makes no indication of that. "And accommodations can be made for anything that is not to your needs." She pauses, suddenly looking rather surprised. She's gone and done probably one of the dumbest thing she's ever done. She got so transfixed by him and her need to collect him that she'd forgotten a crucial detail.

"I believe I have never asked your name." She laughs softly. "Consider that a shining endorsement for your looks."

Yeah, he figures that's what she's going for.

"Remove the chemicals from the pools and run them clean for a month. I'll be able to stay overnight if you do."

What can he say? He pins her for being a little crazy, but this job opportunity sounds like a pretty interesting change in scenery. He chuckles when she mentions his name.

"I'm flattered, but that's because I never gave it to you. You can call me whatever you'd like."

How mysterious.

It's only natural to want to snoop into the life of someone you intend to keep forever isn't it?

"One pool already is, and the rest can be drained and filled again without chemicals in under a week." She counters, intending on having him sooner rather than later. But she knows it sounds like she's rushing it, so she clarifies. "So you have more flexibility for when you move in."

Also wow, she's not crazy at all. It's not her problem that he and others don't understand the peculiarities and specifics of dragon behavior. But then again, he has no idea what she is yet. He'll learn soon enough, and then it will be too late to do anything about it.

But hopefully he won't want to do anything about it.

"That's a dangerous offer." She grins, honestly a little possessively and she doesn't care to hide it. She's tempted to say she'll just call him "Mine" but it might be too soon. Instead, she hums for a few moments before finally answering. "I think I'll just call you boy. I'm sure you'll be creative enough to give me a better name, or convince me to call you something better."

Childish name for a childish response, maybe she'll call him "man" after he proves it... In certain ways. She puts the thought aside before it gets too far.

Oh, so she is capable of presenting some kind of challenge--but "earning" a name when he doesn't care about such pleasantries in the first place? Whatever. At least it's the thought that counts.

"You could have picked from much better contenders if you were looking for a boy," he offers. He know she's trying to yank his chain.

Or tentacle, as they case may be.

"That's up to you to prove, isn't it?" She smiles, pleased that she's at least earned a proper response instead of further sarcasm. "I picked the best of the boys to prove himself a man."

She wasn't wrong, though she wasn't going to say she viewed him as much more than a boy already. She wasn't without imagination, after all, and a man of his figure and with his attributes was... not something to be ignored.

Hopefully they'll both be able to retire to the same place to get to know each other better. In fact... Yeah no, she's going to inquire. "Do you have any plans after we finish here?"

Really? What kind of angle is this? If she wants to hire him that badly, then why does she keep trying to make pot-shots at his confidence? Boxer narrows his eyes at her over his food.

"If it isn't be self-evident enough to start with, maybe the woman is still yet a girl."

Yikes. His glare is only broken when he looks down at his food to eat more of it.

"I'm going to go home, drink a few beers, and watch a recording of the game," he answers. So, yes, he does, but...well, at least he's honest.

If she wasn't so stubborn, she would cast him out for being so difficult. But as things were, his difficulty only steeled her resolve. Besides, she could make something out of that response of his. She answers it with a laugh and pays his glare no mind at all.

"Now you're playing along!" There's clear amusement in her tone. "At last. You're a difficult one to get a read on, and maybe I'll never get it all, but this is what I want. Bit by bit, getting you figured out and learning who you are."

At his response, though, there's a clear emotion on her face that could be... Annoyance? But really it's a mixture of things as her thoughts race through how she should answer him. "Something you've been looking forward to, I assume?"

Ugh, he could vomit. He doesn't want her to figure him out, he just wants her to give him a job and all this on top of wanting him to live with her? Hell no.

But she doesn't want to know him either, if the response to 'I want to go home and chill out' is to get frustrated.

"I don't relax after a long day's work by going all the way to the center of the city and eating expensive food."

Vomiting not allowed, also wow she might be overbearing, controlling, manipulative, invasive, and talkative but once you get to know her she's lovely! She's everything that a socialite needed to be, and more. She knew all of this wasn't going to be easy, but that didn't mean the process was any less difficult.

Her expression softens at his response and she can't help but laugh.

"Unfortunately you made the choice, I can offer you no help there. But!" She idly swirls the wine in her glass in amusement. "What will you do about the job you currently hold? I hope it will be put on hold, then you will have much more time to relax. I promise I will avoid working you to the bone."

She would work him in other ways-- damn it she was trying to get her thoughts off of that.

"You'll have to wait until my current contracts expire."

Christ, she's needy. Don't most people wait a while before showing that part of themselves?

"There are plenty of water jobs that need to be done, and I need to give my employers plenty of heads-up so they can find a suitable replacement."

These are some of the livelihoods of New Cloudbank, after all. Fisheries and the tourist trade rely on him.

Edited (less...sexist...) 2016-02-10 20:12 (UTC)

She's a dragon, she wants what she wants and is never really patient about it. But she isn't letting it show, and she isn't going to make any moves until she's certain she has him for sure. It's just another lure and temptation to make him stay. The more reasons he has to stay, the better. At his words, though, she nods. She's aware of how much the city needs such services.

"I will put word out as well, I have connections that can provide services to ease the transition." She states it matter of factly, knowing it won't take much from her to make them put a little spring in their step. Money spoke volumes.

"How long do you believe it may take?"

"Let's see...the latest of the three I have with local fish mongers ends in four months, but the one I have with the City of New Cloudbank ends at the end of the year..."

He trails off with his thought, pouting and furrowing his brow as he looks down at his food, like he'd just realized the severity of the situation.

She sighs softly, continuing to just state things as they are without much emotion. "So it will take time, unless other forces put things into motion for it to happen sooner."

Shaking her head a little, she proposes a possibility. "Perhaps we start with a visit every week or other week until then, and begin your contract at that time."

This would hopefully be a good approach to dealing with the mystery man and his many dilemmas. And maybe he would come to like her better than be currently did.

There's a long pause as he silently, morosely eats his food, as if he hasn't listened to a thing she just said.

"I'm sorry," he eventually says, "but I can't give up my contracts with the City. Fishmongers will do fine on their own, but what I do for the City...those jobs are the reason why I get up in the morning. Not just because they pay me well, but because it's fun."

Surely if she's sympathetic to that, instead of just clinging onto her obsession with having him exclusively to that, there might be some chance that there's some part of her that's likeable.

Well.

That, and it's true.

Well at least he shared something of his, finally. That action in and of itself is enough of a cause for her to think on the entire situation before she answers him. There has to be some kind of solution that could work for both of them, some kind of fix that leaves them both feeling satisfied. Really, the answer is fairly obvious.

"Then continue to do those jobs." She answers finally, simply. "Will you be able to do so while living with me? And if so, how frequently will those duties need to be fulfilled?"

Inquiries, inquiries. But she looks genuinely curious, she's not just grilling him for information. She wants to know.

It's a start.

"I swim the circuit around New Cloudbank's furthest waters at sunrise and sunset. I'm out there in Bayside waters during peak tourism--mostly Friday through Sunday and holidays."

He shrugs.

"You're going to have a hard time beating my commute. I just have to crawl out of my back door."

She ponders for several long moments. That was a lot of time that he would spend away, but that also meant time for her to get away. That was something she hadn't entirely factored in, continuing her tasks while she had him living in with her. She finally responds only after taking another sip of her wine.

"That would be an agreeable schedule, if it would still work for you." She crosses one arm over her front to settle her fingers on her opposite arm. She can't very well cross both while she's holding the wine, after all.

"And transportation could be provided to make the trek easier. It's not as short, but it certainly isn't too much longer." There was just a street and a long hill, mostly.

"Perhaps I should come visit you while you're in the waters."

"Yeah, that'd be nice..."

So she is capable of negotiating. Not bad. He's still convinced she's way too high-strung, but it's a sign that she's easy to work with.

"Maybe you should. Much easier to find when the tourists are out. They say that the monsters come out when there's blood in the water...or something along those lines."

And they would find each other, but only in passing, as he worked his shifts. When it came close to time to sign his new contract with Sybil, however, things suddenly went south.

No one expected New Cloudbank to attract any enemies, given their strong trade routes and entertainment, but there are those who have greedier motivations, seeking to take the island jewel for themselves. This was the moment that Boxer was born for.

Not so much the one he was meant to die for.

By himself, he'd managed to fight off the first scouting armada, taking down the seven-ship fleet with strength and wit alone, but it was not without his own casualties. He would've died for sure if the local fishermen hadn't gathered at the ruckus to assess what had happened, and they were not about to go home without their monster-buddy, even if he was hanging on by a thread.

If his wits had been about him at the time, he would have asked for his marine veterinarian, but all he could really think about was telling Sybil that they'd have to delay his contract, demanding that someone contact her. Priorities. For what it's worth, though, one of the senior fish mongers provides Sybil with the contact information for the professional.

It works out for the best in the end, however, because one of Sybil's pools just happens to be just right for a medicine tank.

He's not one for conversation these days, strung out from pain medication and uninclined to clear out the water from his lungs, relying on the syphon on his side because it hurt a whole lot less. Plus, his buoyancy is mostly shot, as he's missing three and a half of his tentacles and his left arm.

Don't worry, though. They're growing back.

At least he can watch TV.

If only "nice" is what the circumstances had remained, but changes in the situation resulted in proper adjustments. Moves and counter-moves, really, that was what it boiled down to.

In the days, and weeks, to follow she keeps her distances from him. Observing and taking note of his behaviors and mannerisms. She's hardly needed at home while adjustments and preparations are made, she trusts those she's paid with the tasks she's given them. She only employed those she trusted, and this held true for every individual in her life.

Which is how she got hold of so much information so quickly following the attack. Her informants were the very citizens of the city, and they were all too eager to talk given the danger of the situation. They knew she had connections, and she knew exactly what to do.

First, of course, was ensuring that Boxer was well taken care of. An easy task, given her preparations to accommodate him already. The marine veterinarian is easy enough to work with, and has enough associations with people Sybil knows that she has no issue with granting him a card to access her home anytime he needs to check Boxer.

Second was a long, long bath. There was a reason she kept a pool of molten metal in the lowest basement, and this was it.

Third, and most importantly, would come over the course of the next week. Reports and claims in the papers, word on the street, and hushed whispers about anyone associated with the greedy would-be pirates disappearing. Illegally purchased ships being ripped to pieces by a flying metal beast wielding a giant metal spear. In honesty, the stories probably sounded like superstition and exaggeration to any bystander, but enough citizens knew. The metal beast only appeared when something drastic was happening in Cloudbank, and no one was really sure if it was a friend or a foe.

They were right to not assume, at least.

She keeps a few of the newspapers for later, and spends a good chunk of her time assisting with tending to Boxer. She has a few seats, books, blankets, and a laptop moved into the room so she can minimize her departures. She won't let him slip off of the thread of life he'd clung to, and as a benefit she can change the channel for him if he gets conscious enough for it.

He would pull through, he had to.

When she comes in to visit him one day, some while into his recovery--a day or two after being declared "no longer in the woods", and he appears to be sleeping, with only his back visible from the entrance.

After a while, a flurry of bubbles rises from him as he lets out an inaudible sigh of frustration.

Considering his general silence in the tank up until the point the bubbles happen, it's only natural that the sound catches Sybil's attention. She glances slightly from her seat and then slowly rises.

At the edge of the tank, she places a hand against the glass and taps just once with a metal-tipped fingernail. She knows how to make a small sound in the water, she doesn't want to hurt him with the sound after all he's been through.

But she knows talking isn't the ideal way to get his attention right now.

There's a short delay before he responds, turning over to look at Sybil through the class. His intact arm has the length of a tentacle wrapped around it, his hand clutching the base where it appears between the rest of his tentacles. It's not like the others--it's a solid gold, like the details on his body, and doesn't have any suckers on it.

After a few moments, he realizes the context of the situation, and urgently hides his arm behind him. Ugh, damn it, this was...something something, privacy...wow, these pain meds are god-tier.

Sybil eyes him for a few moments, regarding the state she's found him in and the reaction he had and...

Well.

She's not going to embarrass him any further, but she can't suppress a grin over her features. More things she'd learned about him, and that color was a satisfying coincidence. No sense in cornering him in the state he's in, though. She'll let him come to her.

With a deliberate spin on the tip of one toe, she steps away and sits... more like lays out on the seat she has set up. Enough to offer plausible deniability. On one hand it could be an invitation, on the other hand she could just be lazily watching TV.

Who knew?

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