Sep. 19th, 2009

elftaint: FRANK. N. FURTER. (Default)
What scene?! Where?!: The Room Of Cool Night Breezes, Seymour x Sephiroth, @ [info]the_love_hotel


LONG ENTRY IS LONG.



We're in the homestretch, and ironically it was only now that I came into The Fullness Of My Powers And Majesty etc. From this point til the end of the thread I felt only easy, natural, scientific control of activity - all the setup work was done, however well or badly, and now it was time to reap a harvest of startling beauty.

"Then come." Like a cat snatching a moth from the air, he grabbed one of those white hands before they had a chance to get away, and began to lead Sephiroth towards the couch. He took it completely for granted that he would follow.
Regardless of how lilac this prose is, it's immediately obvious to me that there's been a shift in control: where I was hesistant, I became certain. Where I was unclear how to proceed, I created certainty. This is also a characteristically Seymour move - you can even see it in the FMV in FFX during the wedding sequence.

Those tremors of ecstasy had not completely left him by the time he found himself being led along blindly after the Guado. The floor was cold beneath his feet, but failed to jar any sense of coherent thought back into his head. Thoughts of escape or protest were distant whispers, barely recognized for what they were in the wake of that mind-shattering release.

What next would he have of him? It wasn't a literal question, for the answer surely must have been obvious, but rather an outlook. If there was indeed no fighting it, perhaps there was pleasure to be found in this...
Seph's tag clearly indicates a willingness to follow my sudden manic lead - that was really important to me, and once again, slickly and tidily done IC.

The ideal is always to get all communication to happen IC. It's just not possible - it's really really not possible - but Seph-mun is showing us how it's at the very least possible on occasion.

They came to the verge of the low couch. Seymour tugged him forward so that his shins would brush the edge of it. "You should sit." Though he would regret that any part of Sephiroth's splendid nakedness should be unavailable to him.

He bit his thumb then in sudden contemplation, his clear eyes sharp but focused on nothing. Then, decisively, he let his fingers roll through the empty air as though circling the base of an invisible sphere. A soft flash followed. The curse of blindness was broken.
This is the second most efficient tag I would post in the entire thread (score: 80 to 4). The description of breaking the curse is physical, clear, interesting, and concise, and there was even time to throw in a little narration and action that showed the kind of rough concern that Seymour had conceived for Sephiroth at this point.

pressed his lips to the very end of his collarbone.
Hahaha I swear I'm not obsessed with that part of the body. I SWEAR IT.

I do have a thing for elaborate explorations of one's anatomy, and I find that people are very sensitive where the skin is stretched over bone without a lot of padding. More than that, I think it's inherently a dom thing to deal in precise and atypical anatomy: that kind of attention - to detail that so often goes unnoticed - confers a kind of power and momentum to its practicioner. It is as dazzling IRL as within an RP context.

"...what would you have of me?" It was the first he'd spoken since that blindness had been incurred, and now it was low and languid, almost a purr.

"Don't ask questions." Seymour answered, though there was nothing cold or commanding about it. It is better to anticipate than to know.
A beautiful exchange, but of course it triggered the operation of the Smut McGuffin. DERP.

When he felt Sephiroth's fingers on him, he sank his teeth into the flesh at the base of his throat and groaned. It was then that he noticed the massive scar and stilled.

Then, he felt him pause, and his touch indicated what had caused such a reaction. That patch of skin, which felt newly restored, pale and silky beneath his touch, lay just over...

Ah.

He would have asked if the other wished to see the reason, but he found his tongue silenced. Seymour's previous statement had prevented it. Instead, he merely gave the other a faint, knowing smile.
So since I knew basically nothing about the canon and Seph-mun knew it, she asked me OOC if, you know, I meant to Find A Wing. And I was like "uh yes I guess I mean... if that's alright with you."

Let me clarify. What I MEANT to say was "fucking get the wing out, I wanna play with it." But you can't talk like that to civilized humans.It's impolite.

The next couple of tags were very short dialogue tags. I'm always embarrassed about doing short tags even if they're appropriate but Seph-mun didn't upbraid me for it so we were in the clear. Then, at last:

Sephiroth nodded, shifting back out of the other's grasp if for but a moment. He would not want to be so close when it unfurled...

And unfurl it did. His hair stirred as something dark pushed it aside, stretching upwards. The muscles of his shoulders visibly flexed as a form as dark as ink drew forth. With a final stretch it was fanned wide, nothing more or less than a singular black wing extending from his right shoulder. The flourishing movement dislodged a few of those feathers, floating quietly down to rest on the couch beside him.

That accomplished, it folded to rest against his back, that faint smirk not quite leaving his lips.
This was so adroitly described that I kind of O_O'd IRL. A genuine WAT moment! It's a little weird to have only one wing, but more than weird, it is kinky, I am sorry to say. Seymour has a "WAT" to "KINK" turnaround time of about three posts.

He briefly debated the good taste of the question that came immediately to mind, and yet...

"Is it - sensitive?"

He ran his hand lightly over the furled arc of shining black feathers as if to test for himself.
OK, two posts.

He traced the arc of the top all the way to the tip, and then dipped his fingers into the dark feathery secret place where the wing emerged from his shoulder, searching for where one became the other. His other hand he let rest on Sephiroth's chest, one fingertip resting in the pulse of his throat.
This is precisely the point where I started to really relax and let my freak flag fly. I dunno if it's visible in the prose but my understanding of the energy of the scene went from being unbalanced and unsure to being completely involved. I think my biggest "tell" that I'm really into a scene is that I start getting very three-dimensional with things, and 'dipped his fingers etc.' is a very live-and-in-person response to a beautiful black wing.

Smut in general is written strongly when it's direct, physical, and specific.

It was a feeling that he was accustomed to, at least, if not one enjoyed. The examinations of Shinra's top scientists had been a part of his everyday existence for so long, though admittedly, none of them had dared touch him in so...intimate a manner. Those had been cursory, no longer than necessary, and utterly cold.

This was different enough to be borne. To be...acceptable
Good character color in Sephiroth's reply. It also showed, I thought, a receptivity to Seymour's IC reaction that was subtle and sweet.

His searching fingers soaked up the tremendous heat of the enclosure of feathers. They were unimaginably soft, with sweetly downy underpinnings that made him feel curiously dizzy. He laughed suddenly - a guileless laugh, like a boy.

"Touch me with it." He stood up, presenting himself, legitimately and uncomplicatedly grinning.
Though once I've gotten control of a scene, sometimes the problem is that I, hm. Get baroque.

Stepping forward, he curled that wing around the both of them, feathers brushing as low as his calves and pressed flush against him from there on up. They tickled against the back of his thighs, almost curling all the way around again to hug his side, as Sephiroth's hands slid to curl around the Guado's broad shoulders.
Seph rises to the fetishistic/affectionate nature of the occasion magnificently.

There is a very tender exchange that follows this which it would displease me to pick apart: a show of vulnerability that meets with warm acceptance, and, at last, corcordance between the lovers. Too warm and lovely to take a microscope to!

Folding one knee over the couch, he had thought to lower him onto his back - then suddenly realized. The wing. "Ah - then, the other way." Instead he pivoted and sat back himself with his lover in his lap.
I realized in the middle of writing the tag that this wasn't going to be the MxM Missionary that I had originally anticipated. The IC reaction nearly follows my OOC train of thought. It was necessary to pick a position that allowed face to face contact as this was to be very definitely lovemaking and not screwing.

Although, reviewing my other TLH threads, I don't think Seymour has ever not done face to face. Oh wait, once, rather infamously, but that's a lost tale. I'm putting it on my to-do list anyway!

That accomplished, it was too easy then to rock his hips forward, a spark of friction resulting as they met, rubbing against one another.
Once settled, Sephiroth is immediately rather forward. It was excellent. I think I've mentioned before how much I dislike being obliged to lead someone through contact, so this was great if only for that reason. It was great also because pffft rubbing boners together is the best.

There was a note of panic in his voice, however subtle. "I've got to get inside you. Here."

His free hand slipped between their bodies and the open space between his own thighs, and his fingers curled up to stroke insistently there.


Even as willing as he might have been, the fit would still be tight. He'd never allowed anyone to have what the other sought. The sudden press of fingers earned a low hiss as his own fingers dug into Seymour's hips, his forehead leaning in to rest against the other's shoulder.
I thought that was a great (and very hot) reaction from Seph: a silent, sensual, slumping acceptance that nevertheless comes short of being full-on consent. The act of a man with mixed feelings and an erection! Hence: perfect.

Oil. The thought punched through his haze of lust. It was in his robe and there wasn't a chance of grabbing it without breaking contact. No - he could just reach it with his toe, though it must have looked mad and absurd beyond any reconciliation when he began to drag it over with his foot. The little vial rolled out of his sleeve and he picked it up between his toes with the feeling like he'd just won a war.
Lube! You have to have it for the buttsecks. I realized that our partners had gotten to the couch and they were both naked, so there was nowhere clever to hide lube on their persons. WORSE: I absolutely did not want to put Seymour in a place where he had to get up and break contact with Seph. This gently ridiculous business with catching his robe with his toe was my resolution and compromise.

I have an awful habit of interpolating lovely drippy thin oils for the heavier and more enduring lubes that are p much a requirement in IRL assfucking. It's not that I don't know better, and I should probably preface all these anal scenes with "DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME" but honestly, it is Seymour Guado and Sephiroth having sex in an interdimensional love hotel, I think "oil that's too thin" is maybe an acceptable bending of reality in context. See? I say that because I'm embarrassed. I hate thick lube and I can't hide it.

he got his hand around both cock again
Everyone makes typos and it isn't a big deal in an otherwise great scene, but sometimes typos have excruciatingly bad timing.

After that, there is, as the French say, un peu de la fingering du ass, then:

To his credit, he made no sound at the intrusion of those fingers, still rocking shallowly against the slick heat of the other's body, willing enough to distract himself. Sensation worked better than gentle words, though those earned Seymour tiny nips and kisses against the curve of his throat, along with those quiet, unsteady hitches in breath.
Seph is plainly both willing and uncomfortable. An excellent realistic detail.

"Up," He ordered, however gentle the tone in which it was done, and tugged at Sephiroth's hips. He had nearly exhausted his patience, and no matter how tenderly Sephiroth kissed him it was absolutely mandatory that he get in. He slid forward a little on the couch, regretfully releasing Sephiroth's cock and holding his own out.

"Come down slowly, Sephiroth."
Omg haha look at the timestamps. Seph wouldn't reply to this tag for 12 hours, and I worried that it might be because I was too pushy. It was also incongruous given the material before. A case of OOC leaking into IC: it was fucking late and I was rather tired. I should have called it a night three or four tags earlier but I was a little obsessed with keeping up with this thread. When Seph did at last respond:

Rising up to place almost all of his weight upon his knees, he gazed downward at the blue-haired Spiran, his own parted lips letting go of a soft groan. Slow, he had said.

His grasp shifted, clutching the other's shoulders as that wing fluttered, balance sought as he obeyed and slowly lowered himself downward. The muscles in his abdomen had grown taunt and hard as steel, back arching catlike as he felt that initial press against him.

No stopping to think. He had commanded him...

And so, head lowered to allow that curtain of silver to hide whatever discomforted expression that might betray him, he continued to press down, until tense muscles gave way. It was heat and pressure unimaginable prior, and he felt his chest tighten with every slick inch that managed to slide in.

Not a sound. No protest or hesitation. Seymour's shoulders, however, might well be bruised and bear the mark of his nails for days afterward.
It was excellent. This scene did skirt the edge of non-con in a lot of ways, but that kind of dangerous, uncomfortable, coercive tension is so hot IC as long as it is organized in good faith OOC.

I liked Seph hiding in his hair; is he hiding from Seymour, or is he hiding from himself? Either way, it was a sign of too much awareness of too little power, which makes my inner dom~seme oh so very happy.

Distantly he realized that this was going to be painful for Sephiroth; in spite of the tenderness that had passed between them, he only knew black pride for the distress he would cause. In his perversity he thought it was a bond and a vow: only I will hurt you like this, and only I will bring you out of pain to pleasure.
A very hard top kind of feeling, that feeling of being willing to hurt, and committing to the responsibility of justifying the hurt. It's a confident and wicked feeling and it represents a dare that the top had better be able to make good on.

I had to be careful to note that it was a one-sided feeling - when I originally wrote this line, I wrote it as though there was an actual contract being formed between these two men. That was presumptuous! I had to reword.

"Look at m-me," He muttered, his breath catching as intense pleasure washed over him. "Don't hide."

Those lips, however, tugged upwards by the faintest degree. "How can I hide...when I'm right..." A flex of those toned thighs as they grasped Seymour's hips, and that tightness round the other only increased.

"...here?"
Hahaha Seymour got boner-pwned. Nice work Seph!

As they begin to move together,
There was pain, screaming protest in his veins as he felt Seymour sink all the deeper, but pain was temporary. He could deal with that easily enough. It would fade. It already had started to, dulled in the wake of that sparking friction.
Seph-mun bears the burden of deciding whether and how Sephiroth will take pleasure from this. I offered no guidance in that regard, no "I fuck you in the ass and you love it" or "I hit your prostate every time without fail (and you love it.)" I dislike forcing a reaction like that, so I usually don't mention the prostate thing at all until it's indicated by my partner.

Another case where I really depend on having a strong partner who's not afraid of deciding and feeling what his or her character is experiencing.

Seph's gorgeous reaction and growing warmth sends Seymour into a fevered fugue:

It was going to be the death of him that he had only two hands and one mouth. It wasn't enough just to touch like this, not with this aching promise of nearness so nearly evading him. His vast hunger curdled his thoughts and he dreamed dark unholy things as he thrust up into Sephiroth's shivering body. To tear open the skin and merge as one, to fold into each others' bodies, a one-winged mutatis mutandis all-encompassing.

This must never be revealed.
Look he's a bad guy, he's allowed to have dark thoughts about intimacy. I also wanted to touch on the way that both characters had mutated in the course of their in-game lives - one of the few experiences they would have in common. I'm sure that's a killer thing to discuss over coffee in the morning.

Then, when it seemed they could be joined no closer, that soft onyx-black wing folded around Seymour's back, pulling himself in and pressed all the closer to that man now giving him this incredible new feeling.
OH SHI~

In the normal course of things, first the uke comes, then the seme. The uke comes because of stuff the seme does to him, the seme comes because of the uke's orgasmic response. That's Yaoi chapter and verse. But Seph-mun picked up on Seymour's obsessive thoughts of intimacy and brought the wing in for a very personal reprise, and I had to throw the Yaoi Bible straight out the window.

The feathers that closed around him were too exquisitely soft, too warm, too close, too full of his mysterious scent. That was the end of it for Seymour.

His moan was strangled in Sephiroth's mouth as he jerked up with desperate strength, shoving himself as far in as he could possibly get. The clenching wet feeling of being inside soaked his consciousness and he came like a man drowning in his lover, sightless, breathless, and hopeless.
Victory: Sephiroth

It was perhaps more the sight of Seymour's surrender to his own climax, more than the feeling of sudden warmth and unending fullness as he drove inside of him one last time, that drove him right over the edge with him. Knowing, despite his submission, that he had wrought this desperate desire from the other...
And the inversion of The Normal Course Of Things is completed. A very elegant denouement.

Warm sparkly afterplay followed - one of the most touching things about all TLH threads is that this is almost always included, I don't think I'd ever seen a thread where characters came and went, as it were - and at its end:

It was impossible to seriously concentrate on anything but the sensation of skin on his skin, warm breath on his shoulder, the strength of his lover's arms and hands - perhaps he was a swordsman - and his long clean untangled hair.

At last he inhaled deeply and spoke, and though his tone was steady it was only because of his overwhelmed senses. "Stay tonight - no, will you stay tonight? Please."


He couldn't fathom the wrath in store for him when the spell the hotel had cast was broken, and Sephiroth returned to his senses, or he would have never requested such a thing.

Still, for now, his prize was won. Sephiroth's head moved in a slow nod, those eyes bright as pyreflies lifting to rest on the Guado. Though it had been revoked as a request, it...didn't seem too disagreeable a proposition. For now.
At the end of this I was like: and then they wake up in the morning and they're in loooooooooooooooooove. Right? Right?

I had to mentally slap myself and be all "omg you pussy, you have the most awful case of bitch dependency." It wasn't because I'm a pimp who needs to get hustlin' or anything, more because it would be awkward and greasy to assume, much more to act on the assumption, that Seph-mun had been as involved and gratified by the thread and the character interaction as I was. I suppose I could have just asked but where's the angst fun in that?

I think these two characters would always have a very prickly and difficult relationship. Even if they came to care for each other very deeply, there is just way too much intensity, grief, loss, compulsion, madness, misc darkness for there to be anything easy, casual, or wuvvy in their interactions with each other. But it's better that way. Sweet and uncomplicated relationships are no fun at all to RP, as pleasant as they are IRL. And this scene, with all its struggle and uncertainty, was really exceedingly fun to RP.
elftaint: FRANK. N. FURTER. (Default)
I mean it happens on occasion that I get full of myself and am fairly sure that there is not a single dick on all of LJ that is bigger than mine, nor a dom so invincibly dommy. It happens. The next time it happens, my partners should just seize me by the nose and direct me towards this thread.

I got face-owned so bad here. I lost my hold on the momentum from pretty much post one and managed, by the end, to improve my position to only a little behind. I found this particularly tickly and hilarious sandwiched as it was between the fantastic Seymour x Sephiroth thread treated of in my last post mortem and the epic Seymour x Aizen that will get treated next. Both the Sephiroth and the Aizen scenes ought to have stuck me directly in "I am literally the shit, am I not?" territory, but then some little blond boy came along and utterly tweaked Seymour's nose.

Seme/Uke: haha wat. We won't be needing those terms here. There is a guy who thinks he is on top purely by force of habit (Seymour) and a guy who is actually calling all the shots (Kasumi.)

The setup: this was during the "Fall In Love With The First Person You See" event at The Love Hotel. I played pretty true to this event; I just don't do goggling hearts-in-eyes saddo anime twoo wub. Nope! I've gotta make everything difficult. What better way to start than with an ambiguous power play?

The light that spilled from the ornate filigree lamp was dim, of a dark gold hue, and cut all over with the shadows of patterned grating. The long silken hangings at all sides of the bed were covered in intricate patterns laid in metallic thread that glittered in a manner both luxurious and menacing in the low light. A heavy incense - aloeswood, and something that suggested peonies and bitter mints, the smoke so oily that it fell rather than rising - insinuated itself from a compartment in the lamp.

There was an indistinct slithery sound from outside of the enclosed bed. Then a huge hand burrowed into the bed hangings, and a man's head poked in. His long hair was damp and gathered at the back of his neck with a wide black ribbon, and he wore what looked like a thin bathrobe contrived of patterned and knotted silk. His smile was inconsequential, feather-light; his eyes slunk along the shapely resident of his bed with rather more heat and weight.

"Forgive me; it was more expedient this way, my love."
As a nearly unrelated aside, all of the replies I got to this thread had the exact same premise: Seymour had kidnapped character X, character X had no knowledge of of Seymour or his/her situation. When I wrote the tag I imagined there would probably be some wiseass who would show up yawning and rolling around in bed with sex eyes and singing "good morning, darling, last night was wonderful. Your ass is amazing. Walking alright today, I hope?"

I was really looking forward to that wiseass!

Kasumi came the closest, in any event.

Yawning widely as he awakened, Kasumi squinted at his immediate surroundings with a critical, if appreciative, eye.

"Makes a nice change from the same old crap," he murmured under his breath, rubbing his eyes and sitting up in the luxurious bed, taking note of the fact he was naked. Scratching his head, he debated leaving in the hopes of escaping whatever predicament he'd been thrown into but pulled his hand back from the draperies when he heard a noise, instead surprised to see a complete stranger insinuate himself through the glittering veils.

Arching a brow at the damp-haired man's tone, Kasumi smiled up at him wryly.

"Do I at least get to know your name?"
Smug little prick! I should have known then that I was going to run into trouble. Kasumi was confident and unconcerned without being explanatory. I was tickled and despite having absolutely no knowledge of the character, I jumped in.

"There are already so few mysteries between us, and you wish to spoil those that remain?" He tsked and eased onto the bed in a sprawl of splendid unconcern.
TL;DR no you are not the shit;it is I who am the shit.

Kasumi was torn between laughing and edging away, settling for bringing up a knee under the blankets to rest an elbow on, chinning a subsequent hand.

"Uh huh. So few, you say?"

First, he had to figure out whether he was dealing with a delusional maniac or being mocked before he offended the guy by attempting to leave; he was a little less built than his new bed-mate, but nothing so slender that he doubted being able to put up a damn good fight if things took a nasty turn. Fervently, he hoped they wouldn't.

"Sorry, love, but it seems my memory's not what it used to be. Do you know my name?"
Pfft make yourself at home, why don't you. I was OOC enchanted and irritated at this flip lad who had turned up in my Bed Of Being In Control. I do enjoy being annoyed very much. :)

Kasumi's narration indicates that the field is open either for naked (ha HA) trickery or pure madness. I also liked the detail of Kasumi's physical smaller-ness - size differences are one of my little predilections - and yet his promise of being full of fight. I was at this point reading the situation as "feisty uke who secretly wants to be brought to heel." What I failed to read was what was actually being said: "you can have fun with me. The only thing you can have with me is fun. Try anything else and I'll beat your ass/leave."

I enjoy the brinksmanship of getting as close to "no" as possible, and I enjoy manipulating and coercing people into saying "yes" to things that they ordinarily wouldn't. Like flower-arranging, it's an art of bending their wills into more beautiful shapes. Coming from this kind of mindset, it was actually very difficult for me to understand where Kasumi was coming from a lot of the time. I kept trying to impose a D/s mentality onto a totally not even a little bit D/s scene.

You can see me struggling with this!

Seymour's eyes fluttered shut at the imprecation "love." Though he quickly regained his aplomb, and rolled his fingers idly on his free hand.

Certainly he was not about to relieve anyone's ignorance.

"A name is purposeless, an accident of birth, a whim of one's progenitors. I already know what to call you, love."

He reached out in a plainly familiar manner to smooth a stray lock of Kasumi's soft golden hair back in place.
TL;DR oh I promise I'll be gentle when I break you, child.

Which met with :

He watched Seymour as he brushed aside rumpled waves of hair, clearing his throat.

"Kind of helps at the bank when you need a loan, though."

Peering around the shrouded bed, his attention lingered on the lamp and cascading plumes of bittersweet smoke, a violet gaze gradually shifting back to the enigmatic (and slightly disconcerting) person sprawled at his feet, close enough to touch.

Kasumi did, returning the favour as he gently flicked aside cerulean coiffure, freeing up dark eyes.

"If you don't tell me, I'll guess."
TL;DR what the fuck are you talking about, oyaji.

I am laughing at it even when writing this. But at the time, between my confusion, my lack of grasp of Kasumi's canon, and my reluctance to turn on the Hard Beatdown Top on a scene in which that approach seemed subtly incorrect - I was foundering, and having a harder and harder time replying.

"I don't think I'll let you have me ruin your image by painting you wrong. How about you tell me if the door's locked and I'll decide if I want to kiss you, whether it is or isn't, based on first impressions?" He smiled mildly. "You'll know if this whole seduction scene is paying off."
To make things worse, Kasumi was growing more forward all the time, and to make things double-worse, I was beginning to be more entertained by his cheek than by the prospect of breaking him. My motivation was all fucked up!

"Let us say, for the sake of argument, that the door is in the state that is most likely to incline you to kiss me."
Was Seymour's reply. I mean, if nothing else works, maybe.... smut?

"That's cheating," he softly snorted, leaning against him with a widening grin as his slid his hand up a throat, thumb skimming a temple to tilt that handsome face. "And a good answer."
Sure, says Kasumi. Let's smut. And by "let's" I mean "I'll just go ahead and treat you like the beautiful lady you are, Seymour."

Then Kasumi-mun and I got in a kissy-icon war, which I promptly lost, even as some very luscious kissing started to develop.

"Nice to meet you," he breathed hotly, never breaking the slick glide of lips and tongue.
OMG so much delightful panting boy sunshine in so few words. Wonderful. Note the timestamps - Kasumi has no trouble tossing out a tag within 20-30 minutes, whereas I took longer and longer and longer while my internal MUST GET A LEG OVER BOY engine started grinding to a halt.

His free hand covered the wrist that lay at the opening of his robe, and he dragged it down to the knot of his sash. Here.
"I'm the boss."

Shallows breaths puffed free as Kasumi slumped more comfortably against Seymour's side, licking his way down the knolls of a collar-bone while parting the folds of the bathrobe ... just enough.
"Not really, no."

I Should Clarify

In general when people try this shit with me it is my specific and deliberate delight to break them of their mistaken notions. I genuinely don't enjoy Not Being In Control, I suck at receiving action rather than leading it or at least giving as good as I get, and I think it's incredibly pushy and rude when people try to get my character to back down and Be A Good Boy.

It was something specifically about the happy, eager, direct, and very sexy Kasumi in prose that disarmed Seymour's defenses. He was constantly in a position where he had to recognize that saying "no" meant saying no to something he wanted anyway (delicious sexy times with agile young blond). It never even occurred to him to really put his foot down, even if this wasn't going to happen on his terms. I think it was this bizarre tension that pushed me to install some backstory on the smut: recontextualized, Seymour's reaction to Kasumi was less one of "whoa sex" and more of "whoa a fragment of a lost world." Which was a more acceptable basis on which to let go of his, as Kasumi-mun put it in a PM, RAR MUST SEME nature.

When Seymour was eighteen, his exile was broken, and he was brought to the capital to be ordained and admitted as a priest. He was overwhelmed for two weeks after he arrived in the city; then, he fell in with a group of rather free artist types. They were light, buoyant, careless, dramatic in their moods, and excessive in their tastes. Within a month he had been presented at temple and could no longer make excuses; as it would have been too difficult otherwise, he left without saying goodbye, and he never saw any of them again.

Kasumi might have been one of them. The realization made him feel dizzy and trifled-with. Whether it was terror or liberation to be touched so, he could not say.
This backstory slices out just four weeks from otherwise canon events and inserts a troupe of scintillating art students thereupon. It's reasonably plausible and makes short work of Seymour's mixed feelings.

It was a random and serendipitous decision. At the time I wrote that, I had no idea that Kasumi was himself an art student. The resonance between this backstory and Kasumi's backstory wound up being very productive, and it would continue to lend a bittersweet leitmotif to the CR throughout.

In the next part, we'll see what happens when I basically just break down and scream I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER to Kasumi-mun! Also, blowjobs done right.
elftaint: FRANK. N. FURTER. (Default)
With the exception of my current thread with [livejournal.com profile] son_of_calamity, I'm taking a short hiatus from RP. I'll still be updating meta-smut and stalking all my beloved friends <3 very hard, so don't you guys go on hiatus too.

- Elf

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elftaint: FRANK. N. FURTER. (Default)
Elf, the horrible degenerate

September 2010

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