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Oct. 30th, 2006 11:49 pmApparently it's Quote from Your Own Fic Day or something. Far be it from me to pass up an excuse for self-promotion, small though my own posted output may be. (It really just reminds me what a lot of unfinished stuff is on my hard drive, actually--I thought of a couple lines I was rather fond of before I came up with any that were from finished stories. . .)
"I was not spooked. I told you before, Pierce, I don't want a man around who's going to jeopardize my unit."
"Frank, he wouldn't have jeopardized your unit if you were the last man on earth."
(Perfectly Normal, M*A*S*H)
And one from an old fandom that never dies, just wanders the night in ghostly torment:
The rain let up, came back, let up again. The river, swelled with reinforcements, rushed along with renewed force behind him. He took a look over to the other shore, the scattered lights of the city center, the unmistakable great golden M bathing the old stones in the conquering light of capitalism. He swept his eyes back over the roads leading up to this side of the bridge, across the closed storefronts and scattered pubs. From here he couldn't see anything of the hotel, though the smoke rose high above the buildings and there was a dark smell floating down to the river.
He felt like the rain was getting well into his bones now. Let it come down as long as it wanted to. They didn't fucking call this cold in Siberia.
(How to Survive a High-Rise Hotel Fire, X-Files)
P.S. I am so very very happy that the Sitcomathon deadline was extended. Oh man. So happy. You have no idea. Sometimes, when life is doing things, a few extra days make a whoooooole chunk o' difference. Srsly. My Sitcomathon output will probably still suck but at least it'll be suckage for which I can take full responsibility.
"I was not spooked. I told you before, Pierce, I don't want a man around who's going to jeopardize my unit."
"Frank, he wouldn't have jeopardized your unit if you were the last man on earth."
(Perfectly Normal, M*A*S*H)
And one from an old fandom that never dies, just wanders the night in ghostly torment:
The rain let up, came back, let up again. The river, swelled with reinforcements, rushed along with renewed force behind him. He took a look over to the other shore, the scattered lights of the city center, the unmistakable great golden M bathing the old stones in the conquering light of capitalism. He swept his eyes back over the roads leading up to this side of the bridge, across the closed storefronts and scattered pubs. From here he couldn't see anything of the hotel, though the smoke rose high above the buildings and there was a dark smell floating down to the river.
He felt like the rain was getting well into his bones now. Let it come down as long as it wanted to. They didn't fucking call this cold in Siberia.
(How to Survive a High-Rise Hotel Fire, X-Files)
P.S. I am so very very happy that the Sitcomathon deadline was extended. Oh man. So happy. You have no idea. Sometimes, when life is doing things, a few extra days make a whoooooole chunk o' difference. Srsly. My Sitcomathon output will probably still suck but at least it'll be suckage for which I can take full responsibility.