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Quotes From Your Own Work!

Rebel Dynasty said:
My inner masochist is game. :wink: Though won't the fact that the pieces are taken out of context make it difficult? Or is your main focus technical stuff, like punctuation?
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The out-of-context bit is a problem yes, although taking @ReaperHunter's post as an example, that one was about a fairly early part of the story.

But yeah I do try to focus on the technicalities here. Often times that's just as important as the story itself I think.
 
DDutchguy said:
The out-of-context bit is a problem yes, although taking @ReaperHunter's post as an example, that one was about a fairly early part of the story.

But yeah I do try to focus on the technicalities here. Often times that's just as important as the story itself I think.
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True sometimes fanfics can be bad since i seen so many from these even on known fanfiction portal FF.net too. Im not strict as reviewer there since i also myself write those but as an casual writer for fun and mostly doing AUs of known games/animes.
 
DDutchguy said:
While I don't have any self-written things to share myself, I am willing to provide some constructive criticism to some of the pieces here. Be warned though, I can be quite nitpicky haha
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Perhaps a new critique thread is in order, then?

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More Alex and M (I'm wondering how long it'll take before people figure out M....):

The skin on the back of his neck crawled; hairs rising to create an unnerving prickling sensation and letting him know he was no longer alone.

“Hello, M,” he murmured dully, addressing the shadowed gloom of the hall behind him as his enthusiasm turned to ash.

Alex’s muscles tensed defensively, feeling something like arms wrap around his waist from behind. The attention was unwanted, but unavoidable.

“I miss you when you go sometimes, Aly,” M replied, his words surprisingly genuine. They did nothing to make Alex feel better.

You always do.
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And some weirdness with Victoria:

The dream was a familiar one, though she rarely remembered it upon waking. A cold, fog-blanketed landscape where she could see little but shimmering white. She could feel droplets of mist on her skin, freezing but somehow pleasant. The ground beneath her bare feet was soft and damp—like a spring meadow; she could even see the palest splotches of colour on the ground as though flowers were attempting to make their existence known. But there was nothing else. Just a quiet, cold haze.

She wandered, body numb and thoughts empty. What was this place? Theresa had long ago called her to a similarly eerie monochrome landscape for private conversations, but it was nothing like this. That world had mimicked the real thing in shape, though it lacked colour. This was simply…blank. But it was not empty. She could feel things, presences, just out of sight and just beyond reach. But they were there.

“Hello?” she queried. Her voice had an oddly echo-y quality to it, as though she were calling into a well. It made her…unwell. Who could say what was listening?

The invisible forces seemed to buzz in response, filling the blank realm with an odd sense of movement. She could hear voices; hundreds, no, thousands of whispering voices all speaking in en masse. It was terrifying. What were they saying? Were they talking to her? Did they want something from her? She didn’t know. It made her want to flee.

Then she saw it, yet another familiar thing: a blue figure in the fog. Humanoid but thin and distant. And yet…strangely comforting.

“—Black?” The word manifested in her thoughts as though someone had shouted it from the other end of a long, crowed hall.

“I can’t understand you,” she replied. “Black what?”

A surge in the whispers unbalanced her, disorienting her, and when she was able to catch was: “…of Black?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Are—” The whispers rose up, cutting through the deep voice as though it had never spoken a word. “—of Black?”

She didn’t know what it wanted from her. The same question. Every single time she asked. And she never heard the entire thing. Patience exhausted, she ran for the figure.
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DDutchguy said:
I thoug the Read and Review thread was for posting your review as well.
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Hm, good point. Though I'm not too sure if it was something like you just posted what you wanted reviewed there, and then someone who wants to help messages you on your profile/conversations/other sites you've posted it on. But you could be right.

- EDIT: I just took a look at that thread, and here's what it says;

Meg said:
Also, please do not use this thread for reviews or concrit giving. Please keep that to the respected story's thread/site/PMs or VMs.
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LordOfDarkness said:
Hm, good point. Though I'm not too sure if it was something like you just posted what you wanted reviewed there, and then someone who wants to help messages you on your profile/conversations/other sites you've posted it on. But you could be right.

- EDIT: I just took a look at that thread, and here's what it says;
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Ah thanks for quoting that. I suppose I could make a critique thread in a bit.
 
A segment from the ball scene in Chapter Fifteen of The Mythos Trials:


“Of course,” Forneus said, extending a hand to her. “What good is a ball without a little music? Care for a dance?”

Gwen could feel herself blushing from her roots down to her chest, the corners of her mouth curling into a shy smile of their own volition. She was just accepting his hand when another came to rest on top of hers, a familiar golden tan.

“May I cut in?”

It was hard to say who was more shocked; Gwen, or Forneus. Phenex quirked an eyebrow at her, his eyes dancing with mischief as he took her hand in his.

“Um, okay. Sure,” she stammered, her face growing hotter. She shot Forneus a surprised look, earning a chuckle from him as Phenex led her away to the centre of the room, where others had already begun swaying to the music.

“Relax Gwen, I’m not going to bite you,” Phenex chuckled, his breath warm against her cheek.

“I…I’m not really good at dancing.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but neither was it the whole truth. Feeling her pulse jumping at the base of her throat, she tried to steady her breaths, afraid he would notice.

Yes, because the blush isn’t a dead giveaway, or anything.

“It’s okay, just follow my lead.” Phenex placed both hands on her waist, his touch so gentle she could barely feel it through the taffeta of her gown.

Tentatively, Gwen reached up, encircling her arms around his neck, doing her utmost to keep her touch as light as his. “I’m actually kind of surprised,” she admitted, finding she was unable to look at him when they were this close.

“What, did you think Forneus was the only one who’d learned ballroom dancing over the centuries?” Phenex asked, his tone light and teasing.

Gwen suppressed a giggle. “No, it’s not that. I just thought,” she cast around for a reason, her face burning again. “I just didn’t think you’d want to.”

“Well, since I’m here, I may as well play the part, right?” He dropped his voice to a whisper, warm breath tickling her ear. “Besides, it would be a waste to get you all dolled up like this, just to not show you off to this crowd.”

“And show them what, exactly?” Gwen laughed, allowing him to lead her in a slow circle. “How I’m about as graceful as an elephant in a china shop?”

“I think the expression you were looking for was ‘bull in a china shop’,” Phenex replied, grinning. “And don’t sell yourself short. You’re doing better than you—ow!”

As if on cue, Gwen stepped on his foot. “Sorry,” she said, smothering a giggle. “I told you I’m not very good at this.”

Phenex released a huff of laughter, his breath causing a few loose tendrils of hair to tease her neck. “Lucky for you, I heal fast. Just try not to break anything, okay?” he said, pulling her closer so that she was forced to rest her head against his collarbone. “Broken toes are some of the worst for healing.”

Gwen paid less attention to the words themselves than the rumble through his chest when he said them, warmth filling her cheeks in a near-constant blush. This close, she could smell the subtle aroma of whatever cleaning agent the servants had used on his tux, intermingling with the tangy warmth of cinnamon. Was this Phenex’s natural scent?

The thought alone made her face burn more, and in that moment, she was glad she was so close to Phenex that he couldn’t see the effect he was having on her. Silence fell between them, with only the chatter of the guests and the sweet, symphonic notes of the orchestra drifting over them. Gwen concentrated on the music, listening to the rise and swell of the violins, the jaunty way they sang and then dipped into slow, melancholy notes that filled her chest with a bittersweet ache.

“It sounds so sad,” she murmured. “I wonder what it’s about.”

By this time she was so lost in the music, she’d begun to relax in Phenex’s embrace, the movements that had seemed impossible to follow before becoming second-nature as he guided them through a slow, continuous twirl.

“It’s been a long time since I heard it,” he said, nearly startling Gwen from her reverie. “But I think it was inspired by one of Apollo’s many failed romances. You know, before the High Council was formed and he realized love between gods and mortals would forever end in heartache.”

“That’s awful.”

She felt Phenex shrug, slightly disrupting the warmth of his hands against the small of her back. “Unfortunately, that’s just the way it is. Gods can live forever, so long as no one equal in power tries to take them out. Humans, on the other hand…” He trailed off, a slight strain in his voice.

Gwen barely noticed. The hopelessness of her own feelings settled over her, the beginnings of tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. If love between gods and mortals had ended so tragically, then what hope did she have with…

But no. She had resolved to never pursue anything between them; least of all because she had known from the onset that things between them could never work, and most of all because she still hurt for Astral. At that moment, Gwen would have given anything not to feel at all.

As if sensing her distress, Phenex gave her a sudden, speedy twirl, nearly lifting her feet off the ground. Gwen let out a little squeak of surprise.

Phenex laughed. “Cheer up, will you? Apollo’s happy enough now, if you hadn’t noticed,” he declared, the wryness in his tone enough to tell Gwen he was grinning. “And he has all the company he could ever want, philanderer that he is.”

Gwen tried to smile, but it felt false, the corners of her mouth too tight to really mean it.

“Don’t make me tickle you.”

The threat had the desired effect. Gwen stiffened slightly, pushing away from him just enough to look up at him. “You wouldn’t dare…” She smiled in spite of herself, genuinely this time.

“That’s more like it,” Phenex said, chuckling. Holding her close once more, they resumed their dance.

Gwen lost all sense of time, the music continuing on in a melodious cadence that wrapped around her and filled her up inside with warmth, the dizzying motion of the dance, slow as it was, filling her with a sudden rush of euphoria. All of her senses seemed to be in overload; sounds were louder and more beautiful. Colours were more vibrant, the scent of cinnamon and the savoury aroma from the buffet filling the air. The feel of Phenex’s arms around her, so warm and comforting…

All too soon, their dance reached its end, the reality of why they were really here hitting her like a douse of cold water. Phenex gently disengaged from her, his expression suddenly alert.
 
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“I need to get some fresh air.” Dylock left the kitchen as Chorem, Noja, and Yoja watched. As the door clacked shut, Yoja shot up from the couch, holding the blade of her index finger between the pages of her closed book. She stood in the threshold between the den and kitchen and seared her gaze into the side of her brother’s head. A full minute had passed before Chorem spoke up, keeping his eyes on the form, the pen tip resting gingerly on the surface of the paper.

“Whaaaat?”

“Are you not going to go after him?” Yoja asked.

“‘After him’? He went just outside.”

Noja, in the den, peeked over his book and out the bay window across from Din’s old chair.

“No he’s not, son.”

“Dammiiiiiit…” Chorem stood up, the pen in his hand disappearing in a glimmer of light.

“Where could he have gone?” Yoja asked as Chorem pushed past her.

Chorem took Dylock’s sword from its resting place at the door. “I’ve a feeling, but I’ll find out easily enough.”

Out on the front step, Chorem held the sheathed sword with its tip to the concrete. He closed his eyes for a moment as the tip began to glow faintly. Chorem traced a circle into the air with the tip of the sheath, and then thrust down at the circle’s center, tapping the sword on the ground. A ripple of aether spread out from the point of impact and disappeared as it left the vicinity.

“What is that supposed to accomplish?” Yoja crossed her arms.

“Sh-sh-shoosh,” Chorem said, resting the sheathed weapon over his shoulder.

A few moments passed before a similar pulse returned to the mage, emanating from his right. The northwestern blocks, less industrialized, homes more spread out, giving way to a road out of Altroim, which lined the cemetery.

“Of course.”

“You’ve found him? Then let’s go.”

“Eh? You…” Chorem glanced back at his sister. She held her breath, and hoped he wouldn’t continue any sort of line of questioning. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Yoja slowly released her breath through her nose while Chorem walked down the steps and into the street. She leaned back into the house and tossed her book onto the couch, and then took long strides to catch up to her brother.
 
A new scene I'll be adding to Whispers of Nowhere's next draft, somewhere in the first chapter:


Reeves swore viciously, deking between rocky spires as he did. They were close on his tail. He could hear them, their heavy footfalls, their growling breaths, the snarled words punctuated by grating laughter; the sound of metal on metal. There wasn’t time to spare their words a second thought, no time to translate them from the Gehennan dialect he’d long since abandoned.

All he could do was run, black dress shoes skidding across the thick coating of ice lining the deeper trenches, one polished toe snagging on the edge of a protruding rock before he managed to right himself again. On and on he went, arms pumping at his sides, the brim of his fedora pulled low over his eyes, trench-coat flapping behind him like a pair of dark brown wings. If he had been human, he might have felt a sharp pain in his side by now, his lungs might have been burning with their desire for air. But as he was not, neither came to pass, the only sensations warring within him that of fear, anger, and an inescapable exhaustion.

The same exhaustion that had bedeviled him since he’d first set foot in Nowhere fifty years ago; the day that, after going toe-to-toe with him for seven years, the firebird had shown his true colours. His true might. A might Reeves had learned the hard way he wasn’t equal to, not without the new moon at his back and a slew of magical backing from his mistress.

No time for that now, he scolded himself, sliding down a steep incline and diving through a narrow crevice, the tail of his coat snagging temporarily before he pulled it free. As soon as you get out of here, you can make ‘im pay. For now, concentrate on this battle.

“We know you’re in there, Shade,” hissed a voice, drawing out the ‘S’ sound. “There is no escape. Surrender now, and we might leave you just enough strength to live.”

Mocking laughter followed this statement, belying the promise. Reeves gritted his teeth, pressing firmly against the rock wall at his back. Only a trickle of grey light permeated the crevice, creating a thin beam that marred the wall above his gloved left hand. Even without being directly in the light’s path, Reeves knew better than to think they couldn’t see him. Demon kind were blessed with night vision by nature, coming from a world of darkness and suffering. Without it, none would survive for long; not in Gehenna, nor in any of the other demonic realms parallel to it.

Reeves swore he would never go back to that hellhole, and yet, he’d wound up in a prison just like it. Dark, cold, harsh—where everyone and everything either devoured the weak, or targeted the strong in a desperate attempt to garner what remnants of power they still possessed upon incarceration.

Frankly, it was a miracle he’d managed to hold on to the meager amount he had for this long. Fifty years notwithstanding, he’d had more than his fair share of tussles with his fellow prisoners, and Skeld’ek—the Naga continuing to hurl threats at him with her sibilant voice—had been at the head of the pack every time.

A flash of an orange, reptilian eye stared at him through the crack, driving all other thoughts from his mind. Using the wall as his guide, Reeves slid further back, moving inch by inch until the eye disappeared from view, even if the voices of Skeld’ek and her entourage didn’t.

He had just begun to wonder how he would get out of dealing with Skeld’ek and her lackeys this time, when there was a strange, screeching sound from high above, drifting to him from the narrow crack between the upper boulders and the ones he’d squeezed into. The sound rose in pitch, and beneath it, he could hear the curious and frightened murmurs of the demons opposite him. Skeld’ek’s voice was the most muted of all, only the occasional hissed word reaching Reeves’ ears amid the clamour.

As the noise grew, the ground began to tremble, the rumble of stone grinding against stone forcing Reeves to grit his teeth and clap his hands over his ears.

What in Gehenna’s name is that? he wondered, releasing one ear to steady himself against the rock wall behind him. The sound continued on, ululating into a string of rumbling cracks, fading and rising again like thunder. The ground pitched more violently than ever, and it was with sheer force of will that Reeves managed to keep his feet under him.

And just as suddenly, it stopped. The sound, the ground’s shaking, the frightened murmurs and cries—everything fell still, leaving only a sense of desolation in its wake. Cautiously—for who knew what Skeld’ek planned to do once he emerged—he edged toward the crevice, placing one hand along the opening. When nothing happened, he curled his fingers around the edge, and with a grunt of effort, pulled himself free.

What greeted him was blinding light, brilliant gold strobing throughout the clouded sky like rhythmic flashes of lightning. Skeld’ek and her legion of cronies were only an arm’s breadth away, but their attention wasn’t on him. When Reeves looked around the bleak grey environment, it was to see that most every other prisoner of Nowhere had their faces turned in the same direction.

A dark, swirling vortex had opened just beyond a series of broken spires, violet light crackling along the edges while grey and black pulsed at its centre; like the steady pounding of a heart.

No sooner had it occurred to him to wonder what had caused it when there was a sudden outcry among the demons, screeches and roars renting the air while gusts of wind kicked up dust as those capable of flight took to the sky.

Nowhere’s portal, he realized, breath catching in its throat. It’s been opened. It’s finally been opened!

Reeves didn’t waste another second. Releasing a warning growl at some of the lesser demons when they made to pass him, Reeves took off, energy rushing into him through his very pores and trickling through his veins, giving him the strength to do something he hadn’t been able to do in far too long.

Black tendrils rose from his shoulders, writhing like so many serpents and wrapping him in their coils. With a flick of his wrists, the shadows enveloped him, and he melted into a gauzy pool of shadow, becoming one with the ground. That done, it took him no time at all to streak past all those running on foot, as quick and silent as a ghost and darting from one shadow to the next with the keenness of a small predatory mammal.

He reached the portal half a second before Skeld’ek, rising from the ground and returning to his physical form in a rush of grey mist. Once the last thread of his fedora had fallen into place, he delivered a satisfying punch to the underside of Skeld’ek’s maw, causing her to topple over backward and flatten several of the lesser demons under her coils.

Reeves allowed himself a low chuckle, and with a final look at the hellish prison that had been his home for far too long, he stepped through the portal, willing the massive output of energy that had created it to guide him to its source.

I will be with you soon enough, Ladyship, he vowed, and then there won’t be a soul, damned or otherwise, to stand in our way.
 
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Year 2145 this been mine first time when we again found an new actually Earth like planet in new part of the quadrant, only suprise again was that it has people already on surface and its 100 positive they are humans but slightly different tech as most of it would be alike our XXI century stuff and these Crystals, they maked our leader somehow intrested on sending more people masked as civilians to do small spy work. We also learned that there is actually tech superpower what called itself Nifelheim Empire but their tech is still inferior compared to shared work of races that are in our Aliance and in Cerberus weaponry. We are just waiting to strike in opportune moment as we are more symphatising with kingdom the Empire just want to strike but well be prepared for invasion from sky and from more powerful people than you we gwarantee you will not try to again attack anyone- the log of Cerberus Commander Alexia Jensen, 23rd Cerberus fleet vessel SS. Darkstar
 
This is a small segment from Episode 5 of my Youtube Audio Drama, "Cyborg Fighting Super Riders."
(The following is a draft and may change for the completed/posted episode)


...Filled with rage and contempt, Minister Winecooler glares at the squabbling Deathroids.

"Launch the missile! We're blowing this pop stand." Winecooler shouts. "Lady Hotflash grab the Mistress-"

Sparks erupt from the right hand man of Master Death. Winecooler slams into the floor.

"You should have never turned your back on me, perv!"
Koko, ragged and fuming staggers forward, her arm extended and smoking. The blue haired goddess looks at a gawking Danny.
"Call your robot now!" Koko then glares at Beth and Victor. "That goes for you two as well."
"But...But their is a missile in here!" Danny replies. "The ruckus could detonate-"

"Do it!" Koko roars. A demonic echo present in her voice.
"Yes Ma'am!" Terrified, Danny raises his right arm toward his helmet and calls into his transformation device. "We need Super Robot power now!"
 
“Oh, really?” Galen said, and pushed Sebastien aside in a rush of adrenaline. “How long after you walked out of that dining hall did you decide that I was dead?”
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Out of the whole scene, this is probably the ONLY line I'm not scrapping. It's to the point, kinda sums up the situation. No sugar-coats.
I should get back to Derenvere. Maybe if/when I get stuck with my rewrite of IHEAY.
 
Here is a small Excerpt from episode 6 of Cyborg Fighting Super Riders. My original work.(Rough draft)

"You found her didn't you Danny? " Victor leers at Danny.

"No." Replies Danny.

"Then why were you talking to your car's undercarriage?" Victor smirks.

" My car likes it when I whisper sweet nothings to her." Danny turns his red face away. "Especially to its undercarriage."

"My dad used to do the same thing." Beth finally joins the discussion. "It turns out he was talking to the dog the whole time."

"Sure." Scoffs Victor. The superhero unlocks his car. "Well I'm going home. I'm exhausted, plus I have to check on the business tomorrow. Peace car whisper. Beth you coming?"

"Ya." She walks over toward the car's passenger side door. "I gotta print those wedding pictures I took and get them to their rightful owners. Goodnight Danny, and remember to use a condom k!"

"Eh?!" Danny turns red. "It's not like that-"

"So you did find Koko!" Grins Victor.

"Looks like you messed up Danny boy!" Beth laughs. "See ya later."

Beth closes the door and Victor revs his BMW. They drive away and Danny wonders over toward his dodge charger. Bending over to look under it Danny gasps. Koko is playing with a mouse.

"Isn't he cute?" Squeels Koko. "Say hello to Mr. Whisky!"

" Hello Mr. Whisky." Sighs Danny. "Come on Koko, lets go."

"K!" Koko places the tiny mouse on the ground and smiles at it. "Bye, bye Mr. Whisky."
 
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