Favorite lines from your own writing

"You know, Edward," Wolfang started as he shifted in his spot on the tree branch, "You can't keep doing this. It's not exactly fair to her, y'know. Your daughter. You'll ultimately be hurting her quite a lot."

"And you're one to talk?" Edward Marchose responded, "Mr. "I Gaslight All My Sons and Daughters"...? Mr. I Run Weapons Through My Hotels? Mr. I Made My Eldest Butcher His Pet Rabbit?"

Wolfang shrugged, "Fair play. But you don't see me taking over the bodies of my offspring's dead significant others, and leading em on so they'll do your bidding. I mean, you did plan to discard her until I took action. I read your mind - I know what the dagger was for."

"Oh yes," Marchose shook his head, palming his face as he paced back and forth, "You just go full Targaryen and force disgusting inbreeding marriages."

"Says the man who plotted to make a super demon baby through his daughter. A Super-Demon that would've torn the poor thing apart," Wolfang fired back.

"Quit with the fake empathy for my daughter, Wolfang," Edward crossed his arms, "You're the one that tried to steal her soul that one time."

"I would'a given it back!" Wolfang pouted, "I just needed to see—-"

"Have either of you considered you're both morally bankrupt?" Jon Kincaid left the house behind the yard the two had been verbally sparring in front of. "Stop...trying to establish who's worse. You're both equally awful in different ways and scales."

A Blood Knight clung to life as Will and the Champions surrounded him.
“The Dark Emperor will have you all tortured beyond even your darkest nightmares for your idiotic defiance,” the demon angrily warned.
“Say ‘hi’ to him for us,” Max said with an audacious grin. He quickly whipped out his Glock and shot the Blood Knight in the face. Silence now hung over the forest as the battle ended, becoming quieter as the rain slowly ended.

“Hey D, do you have a minute?” I suddenly heard Ruby ask.
“Sure, what’s on your mind?” I asked in return.
“Well, I don’t think I say this as often as I should, but…” she began. She sounded a bit unsure of what she was saying at first, and then she tightly hugged me. I gasped with surprise at how strong she made it. “I really want to thank you for all that you’ve done for me. When I first became a ghost, I thought I was all alone, but thanks to the sport that you invented all those years ago, and the adventure you brought me on, I found a home. And more than that - a family.”
“You’re very welcome,” I smiled.
“No really, thank you. You’re like the brother I never had,” Ruby said.
“Come on, you’re making me blush,” I humorously shot back.
“At least it’s for a good reason,” Ashur chimed in.

Despite the grotesque environment, a sense of belonging waved over Vinnie.

It's warm.

So warm.

She laid down on the flesh-made floor just to get closer to the warmth she discovered and a better listen to the drumming heart..

"Mama…" She uttered.

A lot of good things had happened to Vinnie and she didn't deny it.

However, none of it filled the gaping hole in her heart.

The one that made her long for her birth mother.

She had longed to be in her embrace again. It's been so long.

This is as close as it gets and thus she fell asleep like a baby being cradled in its mother's arms.

"Very well." Ferdinand said, sounding and looking mildly disappointed. He put his finger up in the air again, as if he was doing some sort of scripted action. "The defendant, Hapi, stands accused of using a giant monster to destroy part of the stables by the plaintiff, Han Sable. Mr. Sable requests 3000 gold in compensation for this destruction."

"When you put it like that it sounds kind of absurd." Ingrid said, rubbing her chin.

"Yeah, how did you get through that with a straight face?" Hapi added monotonously.

"A noble must be able to say anything at any time without breaking their nobley noble demeanor." Ferdinand said proudly.

Nobley noble? Ingrid echoed to herself.

Ingrid leaned over towards Linhardt. "Anything I should know before the cross-examination?" She whispered.

"Well, you can look at evidence by-" Linhardt began but Ingrid cut him off.

"I don't need a tutorial on how to look at things, Linhardt." She whispered irritably.

"Wait, your full name is actually Commander Shepard!" Vega asked, taken aback.

"Yep." Shepard replied simply.

Vega looked around at his companions. "Did you all know about this?"

"From the moment I stepped foot on the Normandy." Kaiden affirmed.

"That's how she signed all her reports." Garrus said.

"It's the first thing she told me." Tali added.

"I learned it when we mind melded." Liars explained.

"I think you're the only person who didn't know." Joker said smugly over the intercom.

"So Simon Laurent is basically organizing and planning Jason's mobs for him."

"Simon...Cyric...whatever, he does a lot of things for Jason."

"...like?"

"Okay you have to understand this is purely rumor."

"Rumor of what?"

"You know?"

"Know what?"

"...The rooster. The rooster slowly entered the hole."

"What rooster?"

"You really don't—-fucking dammit. You're denser than lead. He's a hypocrite."

"Wha—-? Why? What rooster? What rooster even!? Why's he a hippocrates?"

The Garreg Mach Library was usually a quiet place. After all, it was a library, a room that's defining trait, other than containing books, was being quiet. If it weren't quiet, it would be doing a very bad job at being a library.

"Father in Heaven, We ask Your blessing on the game we are about to play. Give each one of us the courage to play the game in a manner, which by our words and our actions, is pleasing to You. Let us enter into the competition in a spirit of sportsmanship And with respect for members of the opposing team..."

Jason of course led the team in prayer. Most attentively pressed their hands together, repeating his words, honoring their meaning... Most. Indeed, one simply pressed his hands together and faded into the noise, saying just enough gibberish to fit in.

By the end of the prayer, as the team hurried along to the locker room to await the start of the game, Simon felt an arm around his shoulder and noted Jason's smile.

"Ya know, I always feel better having you around, Simon."

Honestly, Jason? The kindest thing I can say about you is that you're a pretty face. "I'm...still just glad the basketball team took me in. You didn't have to, what with me being a former—-"

Jason shook his head, "That's behind you. Let the freaks stay in their basements..." He then thought about something, "It's...also not cool what they call you."

"What?" Simon chuckled, "Cyric? So how'd you figure—-oh. Probably extracted that your usual way. Well, a name's a name, and I help with play strategy on the team...so maybe I can just...appropriate it a bit. Simon or Cyric, either's fine." What's not so fine? The speeches. They make me sick.

"I'm glad you're not letting it weigh you down," Jason smiled as the two of them walked into the locker room. "They have to just be bitter. You don't seem like the lying type, friend."

"I mean, I can't say I've lied even once today. You're just a shining example to me." Cyric said with a smile - almost a smirk before he realized that might be a bit much. A shining example of how I get into parties. That's about all you're good for.

“Uh, actually, there was one thing.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck like a Mass Effect character going through the motions.

You can't kill me you just can't! I could be a treasure to the Guild of the Triumvirate if you'd just give me a chance; without me you'll flounder and die here like lambs to the slaughter! Do you hear me? No, no, noooooo! I don't want to die! I did everything they told me to, why is this happening to me? I want to go to Paradise! I want to be strong and beautiful; I don't want to be hungry anymore! You can't just—-"

His announcement was greeted by a sound vaguely reminiscent of a herd of wildebeest as a dozen hungry firefighters crowded around him, relieving him of the greasy paper bags in his hands and showering him with praise for saving them the arduous task of walking two whole blocks to get their own fast food. Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating the depth of their gratitude in his head. Their comments mostly amounted to "you're the best, Zuccho," but he never felt all that comfortable accepting compliments he felt he hadn't truly earned.

"Anything in that bag for me?" Fatima Hassan asked.

Peter reached into the bag and pulled out a wrapped sandwich. "You were right. The Chicken MacFinger Sandwich...god I want to slap whoever came up with that name...is halal."

"You rock so hard," Fatima said with a smile, taking the sandwich from him.

"If you say so."

Fatima's face fell. "You know, I really wish you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Put yourself down like that when people say nice things about you."

"I mean, all I did was save them the trouble of walking to MacFingers themselves. I didn't even pay for their food. It's not like I saved their lives."

"Okay, first of all, most of us were in the Steelman's building last week, and if you hadn't recognized that that warped pillar was load bearing, we would've been in that room when it collapsed, so yeah, you have, in fact, saved most of our lives. But second, you didn't have to pick up everyone's lunch, but you did. We're grateful for that, and we're trying to express that, so just...let us, okay?"

Peter sighed, unable to meet Fatima's eyes. "I'll try."

Fatima unwrapped her sandwich. "If it makes you feel any better, Khalil got rid of everything in the house that tastes good so he wouldn't be tempted to cheat on his diet, so I have an extra reason to be grateful for this." She bit into the sandwich with a look of utter bliss on her face that was, in Peter's opinion, vastly disproportionate to the quality of the food.

So the Utah Tyrant, the Madman of Moab, ultimately he gets away due to President Zakariah ordering the air force to prioritize bombing a now empty citadel to dust instead of chasing Hargreave's airships. In what will become pattern for this Presidency, he declared the symbolic value to be more important.

Thus allowing the dictator to reach an exit point, set up shop in the Cayman Islands, and plunder a bunch of now very, very unhappy donors' bank accounts to give himself an even better standing.

About the only person surprised by how badly it went was indeed President Zakariah. As far as he told himself, every bit of negative information was fake news and just people being negative about him.

No surprise he exited the only term of his political career with a 13% approval rating. It's just surprising he can go to the store without being pelted with produce.

A more competent man could've defused the situation in Utah. Possibly even convinced Hargreave not to rebel. But instead, it was a clash of egos - and it turns out, Zakariah was even more brainless than the egomaniac dictator who tried to turn fucking Utah into his personal fief.

She shook her head, but wore a fond smile as she did. Then, she took a leap off of the chair, managing to dodge the broken shards of bowl, and rejoined the table with just the cereal box.
"How are you going to eat it without a bowl?" Willow asked, laughing slightly. This morning was turning out to be a little more interesting than she'd anticipated.
Joy raised an eyebrow at her. As if her question was a challenge, she opened up the cereal, and poured some of the corn flakes into her palm. Then, after throwing them into her mouth, she followed it up with a drink from the milk glass.

Tiberia placed her leather armour, sword and blouse in the middle of the room and leaned back against the wall with her arms outstretched.

"Please don't kill me, you'll see I can be much more fun alive."

Vanheilm carefully walked between the woman and her weapon.

"I don't believe you, a moment ago you tried to kill me and now you're offering me your body?" "We live in a world where if a strong man sees a beautiful girl, there is no force that can stop him from taking what he wants or punish him for it. Occasionally, one will try to take advantage. And every woman has to choose how she's gonna handle it. I choose," a seductive smile appeared on her face, "come on."

Vanheilm smiled too. Yes, he would kill her. Then. That will be even better and sweeter. He walked up to her with a friendly expression, let her breasts press against his chest, and wrapped his powerful arms around her. Her hands caressed his back as he pushed his tongue into her open mouth. He felt, her leg wrapped around his hips and her breath smelled on his face. And then, behind his back, a tiny hand reached into a tall boot, metal screeched, and a sharp point ran down his throat. He loosened his grip in surprise, and Tiberia nimbly slipped away, wiping the blood that spilled from his mouth onto her lips.

"I choose to slit those bastards' throats," she barked at the dying man, who collapsed to the floor, the last twitches coursing through his body. Then she picked up her sword and ran back. She had no time to dwell on this hideous caricature of a man. Two real men probably needed all the help she could give them.

You have to be kidding. This isn't happening! Not to me!"

The Qorisayane are, for cultural and historical reasons, a very polite people. They are also very good at choosing and emphasizing those very polite words in ways that manage to be quite impolite.

"Very well. My full name is..."

Arlo opened their mouth, and a string of syllables issued forth. The first two did, in fact, sound like "Ar" and "Lo." The third sounded like someone managing to hum and whistle at the same time. The fourth was a drawn-out, high-pitched squeak that sat just inside the range of human hearing. The fifth sounded like "Glogsh." The sixth sounded like a wet fart being passed through a wax paper kazoo. The seventh took the form of a fleshy tentacle emerging from Arlo's mouth, turning a brilliant shade of purple, and retracting. They continued to vocalize like this for ten seconds, with maybe half the sounds they made being reproducible with a human voice.

"And that," Arlo finally said, "is why the humans call me Arlo."

Maybe it was a highly-technical magic science journal, maybe it was a steamy romance novel, maybe it was an action adventure story. I couldn't think of any kind of book that wouldn't be either a perfect fit or a perfect subversion of the Stern And Intimidating Professor trope.

... maybe it wasn't really a trope if literally anything could plausibly follow from it, but whatever!

"How did you figure this out before us? You close your eyes at kissing scenes in movies."

"I'm Acearo, I have a sixth sense for these things."

The air is thick and scratchy, and emits a sound of constant grinding right on the edge of my hearing, like every atom of gas is sharpening a tiny pencil, or someone very far away is feeding an infinite supply of celery into a garbage disposal.