Another meme. XD (all excerpts are fanfic)
MEME: Excerpts from WIPS.
If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, post one sentence/paragraph/whatever from each of your current work(s) in progress. Mention the title if you like, but don't mention anything else.
What Price Love Now?
It’s not so much about possession as it is about worth; Ryuuji is his, and Ryuuji is valuable. The trinkets that adorn him have price tags in hundreds of thousands (dollars, not yen) but all they do is accent Ryuuji’s beauty, draw attention to the fact that the person wearing them is worth far more than anything he’s wearing. Seto likes that because he’s a businessman after all; seeing Ryuuji like that gives him something to measure Ryuuji by. And if he can measure Ryuuji, he can measure how much he loves Ryuuji, and if he can do that, then it’s permissible to love Ryuuji because if it can be measured, it’s real.
~*~
Another Fyne Messe.
“I absolutely refuse to marry you!” The black-haired beauty shouted, stamping her foot on the floor defiantly. Her green eyes flashed with temper and her cheeks were flushed becomingly with anger as she glared at the tall male who was the only other occupant of the large parlour.
Coolly, unflustered by her display of petulance, the blue-eyed male responded, “You have no choice, I’m afraid. Both our father drew up the contract before we were married, and to break a betrothal contract would be to have all of England look at us askance. Unless you wish to be forever an outcast, we must abide by the agreement our parents made - and even if you were willing to endure their ostracism, I am not.” Besides, the male thought to himself, “The estates of her family are quite extensive. Added to mine, they would make me the largest landowner in England, outranking even Lord Yarrow.
“No, you imbecile! We can’t get married - I’m male!” The last word was uttered in a tone of utter hatred, as if the person had had absolutely no intention of letting anyone else know that prior to this conversation.
~*~
A House Divided.
Seventeen years old, and Mokuba’s now started using the same hair products as Otogi, much to Seto’s annoyance. He dislikes the sharp, crisp scent and misses the little-boy aroma of grass that used to linger around Mokuba.
Magazines are left conspicuously lying around, open to pages detailing the many female celebrity beauties that Otogi has been seen escorting to various functions, and Mokuba retaliates by cutting out the pictures, then pasting them on his wall - but only after cutting out the females as well.
On the whole, declarations of war have been more subtle.
~*~
Silken Agony.
The soft, slow slide of skin against skin leaves Bakura breathless, moaning, arching in a way so fluid that it seems like his very bones will rip through his skin if he bends any further. Marik smirks, trails kisses over Bakura's neck and lets his teeth latch onto the starkly-etched collarbone, tugging at the flesh as if it wishes to sever it from the other. It's hard to tell what's happening -they could be making love, they could be having sex, they could be fucking, or they could just be mind-fucking.
With those two, it's always hard to tell.
If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, post one sentence/paragraph/whatever from each of your current work(s) in progress. Mention the title if you like, but don't mention anything else.
What Price Love Now?
It’s not so much about possession as it is about worth; Ryuuji is his, and Ryuuji is valuable. The trinkets that adorn him have price tags in hundreds of thousands (dollars, not yen) but all they do is accent Ryuuji’s beauty, draw attention to the fact that the person wearing them is worth far more than anything he’s wearing. Seto likes that because he’s a businessman after all; seeing Ryuuji like that gives him something to measure Ryuuji by. And if he can measure Ryuuji, he can measure how much he loves Ryuuji, and if he can do that, then it’s permissible to love Ryuuji because if it can be measured, it’s real.
~*~
Another Fyne Messe.
“I absolutely refuse to marry you!” The black-haired beauty shouted, stamping her foot on the floor defiantly. Her green eyes flashed with temper and her cheeks were flushed becomingly with anger as she glared at the tall male who was the only other occupant of the large parlour.
Coolly, unflustered by her display of petulance, the blue-eyed male responded, “You have no choice, I’m afraid. Both our father drew up the contract before we were married, and to break a betrothal contract would be to have all of England look at us askance. Unless you wish to be forever an outcast, we must abide by the agreement our parents made - and even if you were willing to endure their ostracism, I am not.” Besides, the male thought to himself, “The estates of her family are quite extensive. Added to mine, they would make me the largest landowner in England, outranking even Lord Yarrow.
“No, you imbecile! We can’t get married - I’m male!” The last word was uttered in a tone of utter hatred, as if the person had had absolutely no intention of letting anyone else know that prior to this conversation.
~*~
A House Divided.
Seventeen years old, and Mokuba’s now started using the same hair products as Otogi, much to Seto’s annoyance. He dislikes the sharp, crisp scent and misses the little-boy aroma of grass that used to linger around Mokuba.
Magazines are left conspicuously lying around, open to pages detailing the many female celebrity beauties that Otogi has been seen escorting to various functions, and Mokuba retaliates by cutting out the pictures, then pasting them on his wall - but only after cutting out the females as well.
On the whole, declarations of war have been more subtle.
~*~
Silken Agony.
The soft, slow slide of skin against skin leaves Bakura breathless, moaning, arching in a way so fluid that it seems like his very bones will rip through his skin if he bends any further. Marik smirks, trails kisses over Bakura's neck and lets his teeth latch onto the starkly-etched collarbone, tugging at the flesh as if it wishes to sever it from the other. It's hard to tell what's happening -they could be making love, they could be having sex, they could be fucking, or they could just be mind-fucking.
With those two, it's always hard to tell.