Favorite lines from your own writing

I closed my eyes, but when I opened them she was still there. I closed my eyes again. She was still there.

Think about it.

edited 22nd Oct '09 7:17:22 AM by Made of Meat

Clever...

I wish I had one but I really don't, nothing very coherently put together anyway. But I do like: "just...gotta keep moving. Gotta look through the darkness to see the dawn." "I hope you're right" "If anything, just pretend really hard. That may help."

"So, you're the one responsible for that madman who destroyed my home town. I hope you know. Everything burned that day. Every man, woman and child, roasted alive. That day, my throat burned on the ashes of everyone I knew and loved. Because of you, I know what it is to suffer. And now, because of me, so shall you."

Having trouble deciding, so here's a couple of my most recent ones.

First, from a dialogue between two guards in a fanfic of mine the story is not related to Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead at all, but these two characters might be.

“Oh come on!” Rosen ripped off his standard-issue patrol hat, the argument and the heat of the day both making him sweat buckets in the thing. “You keep up that negative attitude and we’ll never finish our shift on a good note!”

“Sorry Rosen, just saying what everyone is thinking.”

“No wonder you never got promoted, Gilden.”

“Well I’m sorry Rosen, not all of us can get caught screwing the daughter of their commanding officer!”

“For the last time, Gilden, she told me she was 18!”

“And I’m sure that explanation gave our CO lots of comfort when he threatened to string your ass on a flagpole and whistle Dixie around it.”

Another entry is this little number from an unfinished original work of mine, a dialogue between a serial killer and an obituary writer.

“Oh please, any shmuck who isn’t totally braindead could do that for a protein shake and a light whipping per day. There’s a reason that some of us actually recognize you, Felix. You don’t just let the dead rest in peace, you search for the truth behind them. That’s why I think you’re going to want to take this job.”

“You make it sound like I speak ill of the dead.”

Even better when you see that "Speaking Ill of the Dead" is my working title for this piece.

An exchange between a guard and the leader of a group who want to be let into the settlement he's guarding. The guard is human and the group that want in are members of a race that's known for usually being soulless killing machines:

"Why should I trust you?"

"'Cause we just saved your asses and if we wanted to we could've broken in there and be well on our way to slaughtering the lot of you by now."

Sailor Mercury just got done going all batshit insane over Himeko transforming into Usagi.

Mercury sighed. "We're looking for Aiko Nonohara; we think her boyfriend fell on Pluto last week. Hasekura-san, you can come out now, my psychotic rampage is over. Erm, can we go inside?"

Just a little snippet featuring a duo of my characters I'm fond of:

When she woke up, Nico muzzily took stock of her surroundings. Concrete floor and a thin blanket, moist and cool air, second or third hand light. She had no idea where this place was.

However, she recognised Daaren. He lay dozing on a bench nearby, one arm dangling. Seeing him that relaxed calmed her; it meant that they were perfectly safe. Unless he was drugged to the eyeballs.

"Let's have a moment of awkward silence."

"Move along children, your 10 minute passing period is over in five mintes".

Over the last few days I’ve been learning their language quite easily. Common phrases include, “No!” “Don’t kill me!” “What are you doing with that rock?” “Please! Spare the baby!” and “Oh crap, a demon!” Language aside, I know nothing of their culture. I’ll just have to eavesdrop some more.

-A goblin from Another Dimension thinking to himself on what he has learned.

edited 4th Nov '09 5:47:14 AM by Braincogs

“How old are you?”

“33.”

“You look at least 45.”

“... Gee, thanks.”

And for my Na No Wri Mo:

Rose sighed. “You’re always so picky with your clothes. You know, you could wear something that covered your body for once.”

“But what’s the fun in that? No one likes a grumpy old lady like you.”

“I resent that! I am not old!”

edited 5th Nov '09 8:42:53 PM by Jane Doe

I've got two AU Sonic fanfictions (one a prequel of sorts of the other) running and I've digged through the prequel to find a few. Background info: Shadow is an Android Overlord who's taken over the world. Sonic and co. have formed the resistence, bar Tails who feigns neutrality to keep his house and use his lab there to aid Sonic. Shadow goes all Borg and assimulates organtics into his drones.

In the Prequel, The Tails Doll has showed up and has the ablity to create, in short, puppets out of anything (living, mechanical, cyborg, whatever) that it can control. The first chapter proves how much of BA Shadow is, but here's the best part, He's been walking down this prison block the entire chapter, lost in thought:

He finally reached the end of the hall, his captives pleading with him, crying to be let out. To be free.

We didn’t do anything! They cry. They always do. Deep inside, they’re all the same, pleading cowards. There have been times where he let those who didn’t beg go into the next round of captives, but they always break down by Act 3.

He turned abruptly around, silencing the hallway in an instant.

His robotic, cold gaze swept over the floor’s hallway of exactly two hundred force field-covered cells, with two hundred more down a hall that intersected this one. Inside each one four people were crammed, each one of them with their hands pushing against the force field, fear in their eyes begging to be spared.

It had been a good week, he noted.

With a wave of his hands, every single cell’s floor rose to the ceiling, the horrified screams sounding out as they always have when the process starts.

Shadow turned, and went through the door. All the while smiling slightly.

New troops were being recruited.

The Doll's process of transforming its victems into its puppets. A Cy-Arm is just a cyborg of those aliens from Shadow's game.

The Doll seemed amused at what played out behind it, and decided to turn around to watch them once more.

Shadow stared the thing down while Omega shot daggers with the Cy-Arm’s eyes. Figuratively, of course, Shadow was still working on the literal form.

The doll held up its left hand, more like a mitten, to its eyelevel, as if asking their attention be drawn towards it. At the same time, he floated back closer to Shadow, who stood his ground but willed it away.

It stopped at the fallen Cy-Arm, but so both Shadow and Omega could see both it and the Doll.

The unwinding of fabric pulled tight made Shadow glance at its hand, then double-take.

The very inch-thick thread that was holding the Doll together was unwinding at the tip of its mitten on its own, dissolving into that black mist as it hung off more than two inches. It continued down to the wrist, the mitten holding its shape despite the lack of support.

Both Androids watched in as much horror and surprise as Androids could be as the mitten peeled back—a pure black presence was there, fraying off in a mist that acted like microscopic black bees, swarming in and out of the deep black, knocking others out that wanted to be back in the hive.

Black static-snow it was like, shapeless, formless, structureless, white-less… It was now obvious that it was the stuffing of the Tails Doll.

But this was no show-and-tell, or at least it was not over.

The Tails Doll floated down so it was barely above the ground lowered its arm down upon the Shandroid.

Both the Androids were giving their undivided attention to its black, logic-defying hand, and it knew it.

Omega caught its eyes and jewel flash red while Shadow saw the black swarm sharpen into a point.

The two saw the spear of darkness stab the dead Cy-Arm, pouring itself into the corpse, onto the corpse. The Doll didn’t deflate from lack of its stuffing; it kept pouring it out for a little less than a half minute.

Meanwhile, the dead Cy-Arm was covered with a seemingly hard shell of black. The organic parts stretched, deflated, then stretched again. Suddenly, they burst and streams of black matter split the organic parts in half, the skin flapping as much of the stream poured back into the Doll, now finished with its dishing out.

The jewel flashed a bright red as the steams returned to it. Its hide did not change in size, nor did it stretch. It gathered up the loose streams as it flowed out of the skins of the Cy-Arm, now slowly tricking to nothing. All in all, it took thirty seconds, give or take, for this part of the process to complete.

With a quick calculation taking in the speed of deployment/absorption as well as the time, Shadow, as well as Omega, calculated that there was now more black stuffing in the doll now than there was to begin with.

As the streams deployed, the metal parts were being pressed into a new shape by the shell, which dissolved into the metal upon finishing, somehow giving it an even more blackish hue than the black it was originally. There was now no trace of a hole in the back of the Cy-Arm.

As the shell was absorbed and the streams returning to the doll ended, a thick cloud of the black mist hung about the Cy-Arm. But that didn’t last long. The smog thickened even more and next to the joint between the organic and metallic, formed the inch-thick thread and quickly began sewing the now fabric-like skin to the blocky metal. More snakes formed from the cloud and stitched together the pieces of the hide together, running up halves of the parts.

Soon the only unsewn part of the Cy-Arm were the fingertips and there was quite a bit of the cloud left.

That didn’t last long, like some demented Build-A-Bear stuffer, the cloud was vacuumed into the empty space of the internal depths of the Cy-Arm. As the last speck went in, the seams dove into the palm of the hand.

The Cy-Arm clumsily stood up, parts of its body lagging behind the effort and others hung limp.

And there's this snippet later on in the story, after Tails had fled from the Doll and grudgingly rescued by Shadow's elite fighter squadron and had been summoned to the War Room with the squadron's leader, codenamed Onyx.

“Onyx,” He said without looking over his shoulder, “You had made the correct decision in retreating. I had underestimated the Doll.”

Tails rolled his eyes, Throw a Poke Ball already, Shadow. Seriously. The name isn’t that fear-inspiring.

I might have a few more for later.

edited 4th Nov '09 4:25:36 PM by QuinKylar

edited 4th Nov '09 4:50:20 PM by DoomTay

"I dreamt [sic] that I was invincible, and that all people, regardless of race, creed, or nationality, banded together in a futile effort to stop me. And then they all died. Wouldn't than be a wonderful world?"

I have multiple gems from whatever you would consider a standalone work when Original Fiction is used as a fanfic genre.

[depressed-sounding] "Yeah, I'm weird that way"

"Hey, listen. You're not weird that way. You're you that way.

"Yeah, whatever, Captain Obvious"

"Colonel Magnum! I'm not a captain..."

And yet another one. Imagine a guy running back and forth across the screen, one arm sticking out at a 135 degree angle, yelling "Action go! Action go!" I think that's from some other show, don't know where.

edited 4th Nov '09 4:59:37 PM by DoomTay

A snippet of a conversation between two main characters:

"Nothing is what you think it is. This city, the government, your life; they're all lies."

"Huh. Well, from where I'm standing, it looks pretty clear-cut. This is me, this is my kitchen and you are the psycho who is about to get booted out the front door."

edited 4th Nov '09 6:06:05 PM by K*SPAM

Here's a few of mine:

“Can I have some support, here?”

“We’ll move on to support after we finish with mockery."

Not funny, but from my take on the superhero genre, also doubling as a rant on my heavily-Joseph Campbell-based views on heroism and society:

“In the distant past, we had Heracles and Beowulf. Then, in the 1930s, people started acquiring real powers. The dawn of the superhero. We suddenly had true heroes, in both the normal and the mythic sense of the term. We had a lot of them, too, up until most of them were killed twenty years ago. We still have some running around, but they aren’t very good at their jobs, and the public doesn’t trust them. Romulus is now a cranky late night talk show host. Lady Abraxas is so steeped in mysticism that she is almost completely incoherent to the layman. Colonel Freedom works for the government, which means that anything he says is interpreted as propaganda. Anansi is wanted for homicide. So, due to the lack of true heroes, the public has turned to celebrities. Actors and musicians. They try to treat these people like heroes, but what does that get us? A society that looks up to addicts, liars, and hacks- people who wouldn’t even be like that in the first place if it weren’t for the constant pressure from the society around them-, and then has the gall to vilify those same people for not living up to society’s so-called ‘standards’."

From my Na No Wri Mo project:

After taking a ridiculously long time to reach the office, despite being only about twenty feet away from it when the intercom conversation ended, the office door opened, and Carlos Leibowitz entered. He was a tall man of African descent, with long blonde hair that was immaculately combed back. “You must be Mr Jones and Mr Portsmith,” he said, referring to Ferd and James, respectively, in a thick Japanese accent.

Another Na No Wri Mo one, wherein the characters make demands of the writer:

“You can’t go and kill off any of the three of us. We all have to be alive by the end of this story. And no implied death scene at the end, either.”

Ferdinand, seeing an opportunity, quickly added, “And I get to sleep with a gorgeous blonde supermodel by the end.” The others looked at him. “What? I see an opportunity, and I’m taking it.”

From my Na No Wri Mo:

(After being ordered to come with an Unseelie,)

Ca: Thanks, but no. I'm staying here. There's fritos and beer.

edited 5th Nov '09 6:17:37 PM by Hydrall

Regarding a character's Embarrassing Middle Name:

"I don't understand, it's not like it's any worse then your first name."

"Maybe, but being called Simon when you live underground and are friends with a sword happy hot head with blue-ish hair is just asking for trouble."

A little of egocentrism but...Having said that...

I LOVE hidden jokes and you know, get my crap pass the radar, sort of like these ones:

Guy: "Where did you learned to build a bomb?"

Girl: "Internet: Check howtoblowstuff.com"

Guy: "...I guess I'd have to turn on the safe search..."

or

Guy: "So...Your grandpa bought an croatian wife?"

Girl: "Yeah, poor starving girls! You have no idea how low can they go for a wienner..."

Guy: "Wow...I need one of those girls!"

edited 7th Nov '09 11:19:34 AM by Anthony_H

A man would never do such things. You, you're not a man. You don't deserve to call yourself a man.

Two male gunmen/assassins are about to face a life and death ordeal. They're in a safe haven at the moment, smoking.

1st Guy: "Five more minutes. Think about it, man. In a matter of minutes, we'll be known as the craziest fucks that ever lived..."

2nd Guy: "ugh, screw it!"

(He puts out his cigarette, grabs the first guy and kisses him. The first guy in reply grabs the seconds' revolver and pistol whips him off with it. He points it at him).

1st Guy: "I'll thank you for not having done that in public."

2nd Guy: "Likewise."

1st Guy: "Hmph..." (He looks behind him. His hat is pinned to a wall by the second guy's throwing knife.)

Well, it's from an Azumanga Daioh fanfic, but anyway...

O-okay... this... this is new. I mean, Yukari is, well, irrational, sure! A jerk, definitely! But... killing someone? That's... that's new.