This is from a word doc to help with developing a PPC agent character's personality:

Splat! A pie crashed into her face.

The last chapter I was working on was refining the prologue, and incidentally enough, the tenth paragraph is the last one, so here you go.

Meanwhile, the storm had cleared away, leaving a pale and lustrous white moon hanging in the sky. Meredith Hollaker was walking home, in no hurry at all and humming to herself. Suddenly, an infernal roar erupted from the turrets of the castle... and at this she smiled even wider.

So... anyone up for guessing what happened before and what will happen after?

-Twistey

The mask had no eye-holes.

That was impossible, though. How could the woman be looking at her without eye-holes in her mask? She blinked; oh, yes, the eye-holes were there. They simply had tiny veils covering them from the inside, colored to match the mask. The young woman relaxed marginally and looked at the glass again. The specks no longer seemed to be quite so evenly diffused among the thick liquid; rather, her swirling of the drink had brought them into the center of the glass. She was suddenly absolutely sure that whatever this drink was, she wanted none of it.

((Not actually a work-in-progress, but this was too good to pass up, at least in my eyes. I loved writing this dream sequence, and it was so, so hard to decide on a part to put in.
If anyone's interested in seeing the full dream, let me know! I'd love to share it, and it's probably safe to call it non-canon.))

"The unknown warrior leapt into the air, flipping over a strike from the middle Ringwraith; in the process, they twisted and slashed at the nearest foe, knocking the thing back. Even in the middle of all of that, Frodo saw them wrap their arm around the neck of the wraith who had attempted to stab them, and was treated to a glimpse of the thing's face - shocked at this feat of coordination and lack of respect for the proper rules of a swordfight, much less physics itself - before the leap's momentum caught up and knocked it off its feet. As the warrior landed on their own, they bodily tossed the Nazgûl into the nearest (and, until recently, the most stable) wall of the ruins."

Violet snickered and started combing his back. “Your fur’s just fine the way it is. Now hold still, I found a knot.” She sprayed it with the conditioner and pulled; the comb slid through with no trouble. “There we go. Thanks for letting me do this.”

And here's something from my FireRed Nuzlocke I need to get back to writing:

“You can’t Jedi mind trick people into helping us every time we don’t get our way!” Natalia scolded Julian once they’d passed the harbor entrance. “Someone’s probably going to call Officer Jenny on us next time, and then she’ll take my trainer card away!”

"Y’know," the boy mused, as if to himself, "I have you figured out now, I think."
The horned one remained silent, even as its fury smoldered, singing the earth beneath its clawed feet.

"You’re strong, yeah. And smarter than they think you are. So you could easily burn me up." He paused, feeling the chill spread outward from his core to his limbs. "But...you won’t. Because that’s not how you operate, is it? No, you want us to unmake ourselves; there’s no point to it otherwise. As far as you’re concerned, there’s no greater pleasure than watching us burn ourselves up from a single spark that you lit." He stopped to check the integrity of the spell-circle. The chalk was beginning to smolder. Normally, this would have alarmed him. But not here. Not now. Because…
"Because there’s always Timeheart."

The horned one cocked its head but said nothing.
"This is why you won’t kill me, Beast. Because if you do, then I still win. I die free of your grasp, unblemished by your fire. I die as myself, rather than what I would be if you won.And that, I think, you wouldn’t stand for. While I am a free being...while my mind is my own...you will not take me. The very fires of Hell will not break my spirit. And I will sing my song to the last, even as I pass on to whatever comes next.
"After all...there are other worlds than these.
"So go on. Kill me. But I will die on my terms, not yours. And I defy you as is my birthright. Not by fighting back...but by refusing to break. And that will hurt you more than any spell of mine ever could."

Trent’s back arched and he coughed again, his whole body twisting with release and pain. Again and again he felt the rush come, break over him like waves or a collapsing dune. His face screwed up in shame at feeling any pain at all.

This is a story about a man who goes to a doctor and subsequently has an amazing psychic vision quest through his own spine.

It's a bit odd.

Let's do it, I think. So I open up the latest chapter of my current project and count down ten paragraphs and what do I get but:

“What’s your name? What are you doing here?”

This is probably the least interesting paragraph in the chapter, unfortunately, and isn't particularly entertaining out of context. So instead I popped open the last project I was working on before this. Ten paragraphs in and:

“What brings you to the Valley?” Estel asked.

At least in this one you can tell what fandom it's fanfic for. That's better, I suppose. So I opened the project I'd been working on before that and finally:

A ripple of surprise swept through the crowd and vanished as quickly as it had arrived. The rabbits glanced at each other and at Svedig and at Edmund, but after only another moment and another two breaths had passed, Roha stepped forward, beckoning the others to follow her. As they approached, Edmund turned away and walked several paces into the wood, where they could converse privately. Once there, he went down on one knee, and the rabbits gathered before him, looking up at him expectantly.

Words! That aren't dialogue! It's a miracle!

This was an interesting exercise, though. I looked at the tenth paragraph on all of my WIPs and usually it's dialogue. This last example was taken from a fanfic where I was pushing for a style different from what I normally do. That probably says something about me as a writer, though I'm not sure what, exactly.

The most interesting tenth paragraph I found was from a more essay-style work:

However, magic is not exclusively reserved for those people. In The Hobbit it’s explicitly stated that the Dwarves know magical spells, according to their needs: “Then they brought up their ponies, and carried away the pots of gold, and buried them very secretly not far from the track by the river, putting a great many spells over them, just in case they ever had the chance to come back and recover them.” Later it’s also implied that both the Dwarves of Erebor and the Men of Dale could enchant objects and often used this ability to enchant toys and musical instruments. The description of Hobbits offered at the beginning of the book also suggests that they have some inherent magical ability: “There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off.”

...is that, for a short story with no chapters, 10 paragraphs in is still pretty much setting the scene:

"
Elentur weaved his way through the crowd on the bridge, his friend keeping close behind him. Elentur had not asked him to come – couldn’t have – but Bob had offered, and Elentur would not refuse.
"

...and 10 paragraphs from the end makes no sense out of context:

"
That shut her up for a moment. Then, ‘How dare you?’
"

So here's a couple from in the middle:

"
‘Well, Thia, it turned out that I had more important business here, with my family,’ Elentur said. ‘Allow me to introduce myself more formally: I am Elentur, of House Melaurë; Archmage and Dragon-friend.’
Thia was momentarily taken aback. ‘So you’re the one Mum said came back from the dead,’ she said.
"

"A Potterverse Suethor handed Dumbledore and Pomfrey the idiot ball, and Lupin ran loose on the grounds. Agent Fuji [Apple] was in human disguise and is now an eewolf."

"At that precise moment, there was a brilliant flash of light over the horizon, the entire world seeming to tremble. The Kraken's coincidental timing made him swell with selfish pride at being "validated", seemingly knowing that this was in fact what the warning he'd claimed to have received had been about. The sky turning to fire was due to a mountain-sized rock from the depths of space, guided by not but the whims of fate, slamming into the planet just off the coast of what would one day become the land bridge between the Nearctic and Neotropical realms. The blast front of the asteroid impact was now traveling across the world at hundreds of miles an hour, stirring up the oceans into tidal waves capable of leveling entire nations and obliterating everything in its path. Thanks to the vibration-sensing cells in his snout, the Caiman realized what was happening well before the Kraken did, and having inadvertently absorbed much of the light that had bathed him when the asteroid hit, he seized one of his opponent's remaining tentacles in one of his taloned hands before driving the claws of the other into the spot between his eyes and unleashing a solar flare from his palms at point-blank range. The resulting mortal agony caused the Kraken to rocket up towards the surface out of instinct, carrying his envenomed captive with him... straight into the path of an oncoming tsunami. The result was nothing short of awe-inspiring, the two monsters locked in mortal combat even as the wall of water carried them with increasing speed towards the nearest island... whereupon they were smashed into the unforgiving soil and rock like salami shot from a mortar. The Caiman's jaws had been freed during their struggle and were now locked on one of the Kraken's remaining arms, their relentless crushing grip and the inertia of the monsters' separation being enough to rip the tentacle away from its owner, who sailed through the air before hitting the side of the island mountain and actually cracking his shell to pieces upon impact. Disgusting white ink and dark blue blood sprayed in all directions before the Kraken slumped down listlessly, his one remaining tentacle twitching feebly but nonetheless with a glazed-over look of smug satisfaction in his colorful eyeballs. The "prophecy" he had told the Caiman of really had come true after all and with it, so had the reptile's "ignominious downfall." To this the Caiman's yellow-green eyes widened in disbelieving contempt before he hissed that he'd warned the Kraken that there'd be squid guts everywhere if he messed with his mate, but he didn't listen. The Kraken responded with a wave of his tentacle corresponding to the rudest gestures among modern civilization before using it to drag himself back into the sea, declaring that the Sea Turtle was living on borrowed time and that once he finally came for her, the Caiman would no longer be around to save her."

This is part of a work of worldbuilding lore from one of my original writing projects, which is very focused on fantasy creatures, speculative fiction, and future evolution under the influence of magic. Since it isn't actual finished scenes with dialogue and such, I went with a more summary-ish approach with much more exposition; I'm sure the stuff that'll be seen in the actual chapters will be much more novel-like.

And yes, the "mountain-sized rock from the depths of space" is exactly what you think it is. ;)

"'Correct. The drainage of energy into Thirty Hs occurs at regular intervals. Since no spies or action agents have returned from the story, we have no evidence pointing to the cause.'"

That's a DMSE&R researcher speaking, since the mission takes place before the DAS was formed. Probably. I've completely wonked the timeline up by being such a slow writer.

—doctorlit, reminding everyone that a fistful of Hs is very different from a fistful of hS

Oh, yes, that'll work:

"Arr!" Daphne piped up, and giggled. "Arr! It be fire lizards, though."

Yep, the Illian kids are out for another spin. ^_^ Daphne's like six now, it's ridiculous.

hS

Currently, my only WIP is updating the Plort wiki, so here is the last edit that actually added a paragraph rather than just changed a few words:

Since Cassie lost her Barony due to being absent too long, Sir Ekyl and his men-at-arms have not been seen outside of his fief; he is probably just minding his own business, hoping to be left alone by both Barons Eshakhar and Huinesoron.

And – not counting lines in new infoboxes – the tenth-to-last paragraph:

Although there is a landing, the fort is not easily accessed by boat, since the upper Kattekri-tri is difficult to navigate. Most knights trained at Los Taelis prefer the journey on the Vaybek Road to sail against the Marizu from Mei'n Payj.

HG

These are all from my original story.


Here's the first paragraph:

Rosie sighed as she stared at the beginnings of her English homework. Miss Lewis had set her class a thousand-word essay on “Why Magic Does Not Exist” to test their spelling, grammar, punctuation and skills at structuring and writing persuasive articles.



This one's just because it's weird:


“No, we’re sitting in the headquarters of the top-secret battle against purple cheese.”


And finally, from the most recent chapter:

Clara nodded. “Scarlet… that was brilliant. I want to go and give that girl a bunch of flowers… except if her father’s anything to go by, she’s not exactly… nice…”

The chaplain has been frozen in glassbrick. Long and transparent and clear as air. The medbay (actually just an unused storeroom in the hold) lights are icy bright and gleam off it in lines. Though the chaplain furled within is a smaller woman, the block itself is huge. A great hefty rectangle, glaring down at him. The trolley they had used to bring it had damaged a wheel in the procedure. There are thin cracks scrawled along its top corner. They shudder and grow, ever slightly, with every swing of the pick Yoyo brings onto it.

This is from an original fic thingo. This paragraph, unfortunately, does not quite capture just how weird I wanted the thing to be. Oh well!
I have in fact not touched PPC fiction since I released my last story. Probably should, ay?

I'm always trying to write some epic fantasy thing or another, and they usually just fizzle out, so I doubt the thing this is from will go anywhere, but it's the tenth paragraph from the last thing I've written! Have at it!

She rounded on him, hissing quietly, “Well maybe that’s true, but don’t you suppose that – and I’m taking a wild guess here – don't you suppose that enough money to set us up for years is worth getting a little water down your pants for?”

Centuries, and he still had difficulty getting the measure of his own feelings. Much less analyzing and choosing how to act. But feelings could come later. Right now, he need only be an instructor.

Yes, it's Thoth doing stuff. Fun?

"One attempted murder not enough for you? How many more vendettas do you have?"

DO YOU WANT THE POOR TO HAVE MOLDY PLUMBING?!

From an original story which is definitely my most recent bit of fiction writing:

Jake rolled his eyes. “We had to go to my cousin’s, alright? It wasn’t anything like this. There was, like, a meal and a lot of sudden bits of singing, and people kept congratulating her or teasing them about how they were finally ‘sealing the deal.’” He put the final three words in air quotes. “It was kind of fun, I guess.”

And from a PPC interlude in betaing stages which will hopefully be out soon:

"It's handy, and you know it," the Reader said, and bit into her first piece of toast.

~Z

Plato’s Cave describes a group of individuals who’s entire world is nothing but an alit cave wall and the shadows that play on it. What they don’t know (until one does) that behind them is a group of people playing some sick practical joke, probably across several generations. The sly dogs! So some… guy? Really his motives weren’t really talked about in our play, and I’m just lazy enough to not read the actual passage. Anywho, this guy releases The One That Does and he goes on a magical journey of discovering things like Light, Outside, and the Sun. Then he goes back to the cave (Question: Why?). So The One That Does tells his friends about this magical new world and all the knowledge he knows, but his friends consider knowledge as “Can You Name This [Shadow] Fast enough?” but because The One That Does has, sadly, discovered Adaptation (eye), he can’t do it (one wonders why The One That Does doesn’t collude with the Shadow Jokers so he can say that he can predict what appears, but that’s neither here nor there). So, because The One That Does a.) Cannot win the game and b.) Keeps talking about the outside, his friends kill him. Jerk move friends, jerk move.

((From a bit of Philosophy homework))

The child listens closely, and takes her words to heart. Just before his parents return, he hides the rock and keeps it safe. This, he won’t brag to his friends about; it is his secret. He knows that the symbols on it are wave-script, so he decides that when next the wave-folk come he’ll have to ask them what they mean, but that’s it. He will be keeping it a secret otherwise, between him and the lady who tells amazing stories.

Peregrin, meanwhile, was chasing down the pen he had dropped when the console had startled him. “You could pack the book,” he suggested. “You may have time to read on the mission.”

(( Who knows when this'll actually get done. Yay real life. ))

As the party moved forward, Kur'nak could tell that many were shaken by the scene. He didn't realize that he was shaken until he felt a small hand gripping his own. He looked down to see that Luxury, tears in her eyes and a look of determination on her face, had taken his hand. For his reassurance or her own he didn't know. He squeezed gently, in a way that he hoped said "I've got you. We're in this together."

This is from "Catastrophe Theory: Return to Sender". It's a side story that focuses on Kur'nak during the Invasion. It isn't the last thing I was writing, but it is the most recent that doesn't contain massive spoilers that I don't want getting out at the moment.

-Phobos

Ankur Ket arrived from the inner reaches of his garden without fanfare, but no Astartes could help but draw attention to himself with his sheer presence. He stepped into position in the focal point of the bench, and every eye turned inexorably to him.

40k fanfic! Well, 30k, really. This was going to be for the "secret" prompt, but then I got sick, and I haven't written anything for about two weeks, so yeah. I'll finish it at some point.

And, just cuz, the tenth paragraph from the mission I'm working on:

“What nonsense!”

{; P

~Neshomeh

Ix yelped and fell off the sofa, landing with a whump. She tripped over her skirts as she stood, then hiked them up as she hurried to silence the console. Her face contorted. “We were supposed to get time off, not a mission!”

...And, because I'm feeling particularly sadistic, this one's from the entry I'll be posting for next month's Badfic Games. (They come in just nine days, I have to be ready!)

"You smell delicious," Lord Faolan purred, one hand cupping the back of Charlus' head as he sniffed his neck. The Omega smelled like fragrance and honeysuckle and moondew and desire. "Oh, my little wolf, you've been eager for me, haven't you?"

...

...

...

Yeah, I'm gonna regret this. :P