Favorite lines from your own writing

Heron always took the last week of August off to collect wattle flowers and sea spray from Queenscliff beach and more importantly, to have a one week stand and drink lots of fancy cider - there was a brewery up the road a bit, one of his favourite places in the world.

You never know true brutality under you stab someone with a flag pole!

"You know, if you find yourself in a win or die situation, that usually means someone screwed up."

"Oh God, what did you do to him, why does he have a head of a fox?!"
"First of all, madame, it's a lynx, not fox. Second, god had nothing to do with it!"
"Warring atheist, I see. But what's wrong with your head, you poor thing? Why is it a head of a lynx instead of a normal, human one? Also, WHERE THE HELL AM I WHAT KIND OF INSANE PLACE IS THIS?!"

"Took six of the amphetamine pills at the same time once. I was a lance and stupid, because that's pretty close to overdose and I got sick. Incredible rush. Didn't sleep for about thirty hours."

"It didn't hold a candle to that first Zaku kill, though."

It's basically a Mirror Mirror version of a ren faire, only with more actual disease. Well, not by much ever since the Steampunk supremacists got their hands of anthrax.

"The worst part of Kykzavi cuisine has to be the smell."

"How bad is it?"

"...That's the thing. It all smells absolutely delicious. It's really hard to describe, but sort of imagine the best possible hybrid of German and Indian food, Bengali if I have to be specific, and add in some extra notes of... I don't know how they do it, I'm not a cook. All I know is, I get a whiff, and every time, I want to go and see what smells so great. And... bam, bowl of marinated crickets. Roasted pig brain. Rice-and-mealworm fry."

She just looks...it's like those gymnast twins, last year, tied for the gold, watching a perfect performance, but holy shit she's killing people. This is her element, she's a tiger in the shape of a person. Terrifying. But crazy graceful, and you know if you touch the tiger it'll just be the smoothest, most sensual thing in the time before the tiger takes your arm off. You'd have just a few seconds to appreciate it felt like liquid sex running between your fingers when you ran them through tiger's fur...right before you died. You even think it might be worth it.

Brandon: This power...is so great. Feels...good. This power borned from me and borned for the souls of others. This is the Holy Spirit of all the good in the world...Good Feels Good. I deserve this power...Is my duty. A duty who i choose and would follow. Because is good.

"Who are you?"

"I...cannot remember. But I WILL MAKE SURE YOU WILL NEVER FORGET!"

WARD started as in-house security, but Sigmund's ambitions and Alice's general desire to have the ability to kill people across the world without having to get out from under her warm, cozy covers in Clark Tower meant they soon expanded into the premier private law enforcement organization.

A lance of green flame leaped from the pinnacle of the Black Tower, rising higher, higher, like a finger of doom until it eclipsed the moon. At it's apex, it burst, forming a blazing skull, silently screaming it's proclamation to all who looked upon it, from the Frozen North to the Badlands; from Vanhoover to Manehattan: Our liberation, denied for three hundred years and so simple to grant, will be taken now with fire and sword and claw.

Even to these men and women, who fought for planets and waged war on scales unimaginable, a full-scale nuclear exchange was a terrifying and nihilistic prospect. It was the antithesis, the negation, of their skills and dedication to their craft of conventional war. They didn't see it as an 'escalation' the way an uneducated civilian might discuss the matter. A strategic nuclear exchange meant their entire profession had failed.

They'd accidentally double-targeted one of the Zakus, so only five of them died to the volley. The last one had a knee joint damaged by a missile hit, and fell over as well. They thought they'd killed it, until it raised its gun. "Rich! The left-most-"

Four 120mm shells crossed in flight with six 150mm shells. Knight One-Four's blowout panels on the back of the turret vented an ammo explosion as the driver leaped out of the tank and tried to set a record for the fifty-meter sprint. Flames emerged from the commander's hatch at the same time as the commander. The unfortunate man rolled on the ground still burning for a few moments, before Knight One-Three's gunner couldn't stand it anymore and ended their agony with a brief burst from One-Three's coaxial machine gun.

Ritchie was incensed. "That son of a-"

"He would never have made it. His lungs and throat were probably scorched, third degree burns over most of his body, shock, shrapnel trauma from the penetration. The fact he survived as long as he did was a cruel miracle. Lucas would have died in a minute or less anyways. Even if he didn't, the rest of his life would have been spent crippled and in total agony." Jeannette said softly. "That was mercy, Rich." She flipped to the radio. "Gerard. Ain't saying it was wrong, but don't let me catch your gunner doing that again."

Cecilia recoiled sharply; the movement had been pure instinct. "I will never be like you," she spat through clenched teeth.

Kenneth did not appear offended. If anything he seemed amused, and the broad shoulder beneath his stained overcoat twitched in a movement that could have been a shrug or even silent laughter. "You will," he insisted. "It's going to happen," he continued, cutting through Cecilia's half-voiced protest.

"It's always that way," Kenneth went on. "It isn't morality, or fear or even sanity that keeps you from just offing whoever takes your fancy. It's the people around you. You can't just kill that rich gent over there for his purse, because what if he were Bill, or Elaine, or Bert, or any of those other friends you keep? But give it time, Cecilia. They'll wither and die, while you go on, fresh as a daisy. It'll happen again and again, until you see the gap between us and them. We're not equals; we're superior. Sometimes it takes a few decades to learn that, and sometimes it takes centuries. But believe me, kid, you'll learn that lesson one way or another."

The day was still, but icy cold and smelt like rain and mud and pine trees.

It was a fair walk from the train station to Rosalind's house, so Charlie stood for a moment beneath the shelter, putting off walking in the cold; he tied his shoes, adjusted his coat, pulled his hood over his head 'til it almost covered his eyes, and made his way up the hill to the sound of shifting gravel between his feet. The air was thick as he breathed it in, and he cursed his sister for never bother to get a driver's license, even after so many years in the country.

"Y'see, Amu's got himself a whatitzer. ... Okay, it's like, ya take a howitzer. A howitzer, the crew only has control over how the weapon fires. What happens next, they can calculate and stuff to make it what they want, but it's technically under control of the laws of physics. Amu's whatizer, now, he first decides what happens, then the frayed remnants of causality scramble to figure out how it happens for him. Doesn't work where time and space are still held together, thank Zombie Jesus, but if you've got a whatizer, you've already won.

"We interrupt this broadcast of the pledge of allegiance to bring you...Parallaxus."

The dark voice of Lord Eclipse announced, at first seeming utterly serious and then betraying worry in the pronunciation of his liege's name that something would go wrong.

It didn't just go wrong.

It went immediately wrong.

"I have decided to abridge and alter your pledge! And from now on, as long as Lord Eclipse reigns in your lands, you will state this pledge."

The gigantic seemingly intimidating dragon audibly cleared his throat and ahem'd once or twice. "I pledge allegiance to the most gigantic of gigantic dragons, Parallaxus, and during the Command of Lord Eclipse to which Parallaxus rules completely utterly and every day of every month of every year, one big dragon proclaiming his rule, uh...um...himself...undivisible and chaos and license for all. There's your new pledge citizenry! Go to my retail store - I'm slashing all my prices EVERY Friday, not just the African American Friday!"

And thus Parallaxus ended his announcement.

Lord Eclipse, off to the side, wished there was a desk to introduce his head to - the usual policy was to let him handle all the public speaking functionalities...so why oh why did he go through with letting Parallaxus do that?

Down in the school, everyone was too busy laughing to really pay much heed or dread to the proclamation. Thus, inadvertently, Parallaxus restored some semblance of morale.