S.J. Kincaid Quotes

He felt like anything was possible around her, like his life meant more, like he meant more.

People spoke so reverently of affection. For me, it seemed a torment. I couldn't believe people enjoyed these feelings. How could someone relish this excruciating need to secure a claim on another human?

He had to live out the entirety of his life as Dalton Prestwick. It was really a worse fate than anything Tom could inflict on him.

The doctor nodded. "Nemesis is bonded to you now. She'll live and breathe for you all the days of your life."
"I like her, too," Donia declared, smiling at me. "I think we'll become friends."
The doctor laughed softly. "Friends, yes. I promise you, Nemesis will be the best friend you'll ever have. She'll love you until your dying day."
And at last, I had a name for this feeling, this strange but wonderful new sensation within me - this was what the Impyrean Matriarch had promised me.
This was love.

Who's chasing you?
Genghises. Large, angry Genghises.

I looked at the stone, fragmented and cratered by my rage and jealousy. So this was a visual representation of a Diabolic's affection, then: an ugly, broken, blood-spattered stone.

I've missed you too. Have you been well?"
"No," I said.
She smiled sadly. "Nor have I."
But that was going to change now. For both of us.

Oh, and I died horribly at your hands. Gruesome murder is always a foundation for a beautiful friendship!

Nigel Harrison Nigel Harrison'ed me?

Have you ever observed a tiger? A true breed like the ones in the Chrysanthemum? Not those kittenish sorts like those in our cloisters. They're all muscle and sinew, with jaws powerful enough to break the strongest man, yet if you see them stalk prey, if you see them hunt- the sheer strength gives them more grace than the most refined of delicate creatures. That's Nemesis.

He was almost at his door when Vik's earsplitting shriek resounded down the corridor. Tom was glad for the excuse to sprint back toward him. "Vik?"
He reached Vik's doorway as Vik was backing out of it. "Tom," he breathed, "it's an abomination."
Confused, Tom stepped past him into the bunk. Then he gawked, too.
Instead of a standard trainee bunk of two small beds with drawers underneath them and totally bare walls, Vik's bunk was virtually covered with images of their friend Wyatt Enslow. There were posters all over the wall with Wyatt's solemn, oval face on them. She wore her customary scowl, her dark eyes tracking their every move through the bunk. There was a giant marble statue of a sad-looking Vik with a boot on top of its head. The Vik statue clutched two very, very tiny hands together in a gesture of supplication, its eyes trained upward on the unseen stomper, an inscription at its base, WHY, OH WHY, DID I CROSS WYATT ENSLOW?
Tom began to laugh.
"She didn't do it to the bunk," Vik insisted. "She must've done something to our processors."
That much was obvious. If Wyatt was good at anything, it was pulling off tricks with the neural processors, which could pretty much be manipulated to show them anything. This was some sort of illusion she was making them see, and Tom heartily approved.
He stepped closer to the walls to admire some of the photos pinned there, freeze-frames of some of Vik's more embarrassing moments at the Spire: that t

Tom became distracted by the sight of his own boobs. He reached down to grab them. Wyatt cleared her throat.

"What?" Tom said defensively. "They're mine."

"You aren't seriously planning to just sit there groping yourself in front of me, are you? That's kind of rude."

Tom dropped his hands, a bit sheepish. "What, come on. You've got some new equipment, too. You're not curious?"

Wyatt's armor clanked as she shifted awkwardly in her seat. "It's not like I haven't played sims as men before."

"Right." Tom grinned. "So you've already done the groping thing."

"That's not what I said!

Having a heart that burned with emotion meant having a flame that could be doused in an instant by forces you could not fight, perils you could not see. To care was to be helpless in the worst possible way.

I had only two goals going forward: to fool people into thinking I was Sidonia, and of course, to try not to die.

We are all of us bust stardust shaped into conscious being.

I do. I love you, Tyrus.

Medusa's lips split with that challenging smile, and for a second he recognized her somehow, he knew her on some primal level, the same way he'd recognized he behind the face of Brunhilde, the helmet of Achilles, or in hat ship maneuvering in space ,and then she flickered away. The simulation darkened around him. Tom pulled out his neural wire, Medusa's dangerous smile lingering in his brain.

You're a spelling bee champ, aren't you, White Fang? How do you spell, 'If I don't learn to speak to my betters with more respect, I'm going to get my face smashed in'?"

Tom laughed, unable to resist. "That one's easy. It's K-A-R-L.

He likes her."

"Yuri, no!" Vik said.

Yuri turned redder, confirming it.

"Yuri, come on, man," Tom cried.

Yuri gave a helpless shrug. "Divisions cannot divide human hearts."

"Oh God," Vik cried, clapping hands over his ears. "He's even spouting cheesy lines now. Make him stop, Tom!"

"I can't!" Tom told him. "My ears... They're bleeding. Bleeding!"

"It's a brain hemorrhage! He's murdered us!" Vik said.

"Murderer!" Tom cried, fake collapsing onto the ground.

Yuri shook his head. "This is not very mature.

"Yuri," title="S.J. Kincaid Quotes: He likes her."

"Yuri," width="913px" height="515px" loading="lazy"/>

That smile of hers could seriously crash planes.

But then, I've always believed love is the most volatile substance in the universe. It erupts, it incinerates, and then it simply flames out. . . .

Some might call us a monstrous pair, and they would be right. Tyrus and I were both scorpions in our way, dangerous creatures crossing the most treacherous of rivers together. Together we might sting - but we also would float.

She needs a proper supervillain name. Man Hands isn't doing it for me."

"You're right. How about 'Evil Wench from the Darkest Reaches of Mordor'?

Son, you are now a man,' then he gave me a scented candle and told me how babies are made.

That missleproof glass might as well have been electrified fence and barbed wire. No one could fashion a prison so perfect, so complete, as the one the masters of humanity had created for themselves.

Tyrus stepped down from his dais, and he was blinding like the sun itself with his halo of hair done in the Helionic ceremonial fashion, his effervescent gold ceremonial coat. But in that face that could look utterly ruthless, there was a softness, a need, and he said, 'Nemesis, did you hear her speak?'
I looked up at him, so wary, choking on uncertainty. 'How could I miss it?'
'I did this for you. This was all for you. The universe may deliver itself into my possession, and I'll still feel as though I've lost everything without you by my side. I am madly in love with you, and I hope to all the stars you still feel something for me.

We thought you fell down a hole and died somewhere."
"Close. I was with Blackburn.

If there was a horse and the horse looked like you, I would find that horse attractive.

Not just in America. When I left my primary school, my father said, 'Son, you are now a man,' then he gave me a scented candle and told me how babies are made." Vik fought to keep his lips from twitching.

He began to understand suddenly what friends were for: they reminded you that things weren't so bad after all. Reminded you never to stop laughing at yourself.

Come on, Beamer! I beheaded you for your own good.

Is there a way to to contact someone's computer with yours?"
"Yes. It's called email," Wyatt replied.

Wyatt avoided the petty gunfights and headed to a saloon and rigged up a bunch of Molotov cocktails. Her firebombs against members of Tom and Vik's posse had destroyed the scenario's promise of so many wonderful gun duels. She'd killed most of their group, too, and shown everyone that she wasn't getting promoted only because of her programming skills. Her dislike of fighting had paradoxically turned her into a lethal killing machine.

Is that the only way?" Tom asked her. "Vik and I tried net-sending with a thought interface during Programming once, but I couldn't concentrate on just one thing at a time."

Vik nodded. "His programming questions were always like, 'Vik, how do steak boobs function?

A Diabolic is ruthless. A Diabolic is powerful. A Diabolic has a single task: Kill in order to protect the person you've been created for.

Are you guys seriously messing around with real weapons?" she exclaimed. "It's like you want Darwin Awards!"

Tom flushed, and set his gun back on its hook. "It's not like we were going to start a dynastic war or something."

"Yeah," Vik said guiltily, returning his own weapon.

Yes, I'm a hypocrite. It doesn't change anything.

Your head could fit in the muzzle of this thing," Vik said, awestruck. "Seriously. Come on and let's see."

"I'm not sticking my head in a cannon thing. Stick your own head in."

"I have highly temperamental hair. It'll get nestlike. You don't care when your hair gets nestlike, Tom. You can't possibly.

You are brave and honorable and strong, and you are the only one who can see me as I am.

There's a dead guy on our floor," Tom pointed out.

"Yeah, that's Beamer, our neighbor." Vik stepped over Tom's bed, and kicked open a drawer beneath the mattress. He swept down and yanked out a bundle of fabric. "Here's your uniform."

"There's a dead Beamer on our floor," Tom said again.

What's being crazy like?" Wyatt blurted.

"That depends, Enslow. What's being tactless and completely inappropriate like?

Sorry, Tim," Yuri said, regret in his voice. "Normally I would not push you around, but I must because you have become such a pansy.

Ow, that hurts! It hurts like being in Connecticut!

If he was her murderer, I had a lifetime to figure it out. I could avenge her tomorrow if I learned he'd done it. I could avenge her in ten years if I learned in ten years, and I'd have ten beautiful years before that. I would always mourn Sidonia, but I had survived this loss once and I could survive it again.

Genghises. Large, angry Genghises.

Tom just stood there, sword in hand, a huge grin on his lips. He stared at Medusa and Medusa stared at him, and in this moment that made his dreams come true, Tom could only think of one thing to say.

"How's it going?

And he'd definitely never expected to ever have to tell someone, "All right, no killing and eating me, okay? I'm ready to go.