Here are the quotes I've posted to fanfic_quotes, by fandom. Because I am bored, and feel like it. Also, maybe it'll get some of you to join. ;-)
Teaching as a profession seemed to be a haven for cynics and drama queens. Professor Snape, after all, embodied both.
"You know, Terry ... not everything worth knowing is, like, found in a book."
"Yes, I know." Before Terry could help himself, he had opened his mouth again. When it came out, his voice was very dry indeed. "I hear sex only really works with at least one other person."
--Asymmetric Perspective, by Alvira
Granny's first glance of Voldemort confirmed her worst suspicions.
"Red eyes, pale complexion and wossname. Megalomania. You've never pulled your nose out of a book, have you, my lad?"
"Doesn't look like he ever even made it out of the house," Nanny said, giving him a critical look. "On the other hand, he probably has plenty of experience pulling his tonker."
Voldemort drew his wand and said, "I could kill you where you stand, old woman!"
"Oh. Well then," Granny said. "Dearie me and possibly lawks."
"Do you know who I am?"
"Some chap named Tom Marvolo Riddle."
"I am Lord Voldemort!"
"Pish. Takes more than an anagram to make royalty, my boy."
Nanny nodded. "Have to have a birthmark and a sword, at least."
--Harry Potter and the Improbable Use of Chaos Theory, by debchan
"Actually, I think I'm generalising too much. What forms a significant part of many adolescent female fantasies?"
"Something horrific, no doubt," said Phineas.
"Marriage," said Dilys. "Or at least some kind of lasting relationship with a significant other, often accompanied by children."
"So I was right," said Phineas.
--The Italian Job, by Abby
So when news reached him that the son of James Potter, who'd met a tragic death at the hands of Voldemort -- whom Remus hated not because he'd had power but because he'd unwisely misapplied it -- was going to attend Hogwarts, Remus called in a few favours.
He had the Dursleys whacked.
Tactfully, of course, and well after Harry left the house. Then he called in some loans. He'd amassed a considerable fortune in debts, and most of his investments paid off well. He could afford to let the welshers go with merely painful reminders of their failure to measure up.
--The Uncle, by copperbadge
And when Jesus had been cast out into the wilderness, the Tempter came unto him and spake, saying: "That didn't go so well, did it."
"Thanks, Crowley," said Jesus sourly, staring into the distance.
"Well, at least you went and got baptized. He must've been pretty happy about that."
"Yeah, he gave me a dove," said Jesus. "Thirty years of missed birthdays, and he gives me a dove."
--Compassion (What They'll Write), by lily22
The three ducklings were huddled around the board, intent. "Patient shows all the symptoms of a severe case," Cameron said, leaning back a little. "The question is, why is the illness so far progressed?"
"Prolonged exposure? Ten years is a long time." Chase scribbled that down.
Foreman shook his head. "Dr. Cuddy has known him equally long, and she doesn't show a single symptom."
"Not everyone's immune system is the same," Cameron said. "Keep it up there, Chase. Could be similiar backgrounds. Both hardworking doctors, heads of their department. Professionally, something is bound to show up."
"Yes, but we're talking personally, not professionally, or we might as well put ourselves down as terminal," Chase mused slowly. "Similar morality?"
"Oh, c'mon. House doesn't have a moral code. He's got a moral Spark Notes set," Foreman scoffed.
--Diagnosis: Wilson, by L.M. Griffin
Gibbs decides to forgo the hitman and kill Colonel Matt O'Malley himself. With his bare hands. And a butter knife. Which, as a Marine and not a pansy-ass wimp of a Flyboy, he can totally do.
Yeah, he thinks violently. And I can sleep with a smile on my face in the same night, too. Pussy. He stabs his pen into the page with a bit more force than absolutely necessary, and tells himself that the reason it tears is because NCIS, in an effort to cut costs, has started using inferior quality paper without telling anyone.
"Yes," Kate flusters, all smiles and bouncy happy syllables. "I'd love to, I mean..." She smiles shyly, cheeks pink. "I'd love to."
The first time he saw Caitlin Todd, she told him that her balls were just as big as his. She wasn't shy, she wasn't sly, she wasn't... like this. He was entangled in her and his attraction to her because she told him flat out that, if the situation arose, she could take him on without a problem, and then laugh while he bled.
She's a strong woman, and that always gets him a) in trouble and b) entranced.
Apparently, his inner monologue snarls, angry and rubbed the wrong way at this new presence in the universe he has built around four desks and two labs, Colonel Matt O'Malley, United States Air Force, likes his women to be weaker than him. Pussy, he thinks again.
Colonel Matt Pussy O'Malley, United States Air Force. Has a nice ring to it, and Gibbs imagines it'll look lovely on the tombstone.
--Crashing and Burning, by b_cavis
Toby clenched his fists, his patience already worn out from being in this costume for far too long. "I am not a clown! My name is Toby Ziegler and I am Director of Communications for the White House! I don't make balloon animals and I generally don't talk to children!"
"Do you have one of those small cars that twenty clowns can fit in?" the boy asked, unfazed.
Toby shook his head, speaking through gritted teeth. "No, I have a medium-size car, called a BMW, that five clowns, called politicians, can fit in."
"Can you juggle?"
"NO! No, I cannot juggle! Listen to me carefully, you glue-eating mongrel: I am NOT a real clown! I am pretending, it's Halloween! You're dressed like Superman, but you're not *really* Superman, right?"
"Yes, I am," the boy replied.
--At the Pleasure of the President, by Steph
Will raised his free hand. "Uh... who's 'he?'"
"Jack Reese," Josh answered, not taking his eyes off of Toby. "Believe me, I'm having this conversation with her in about fifteen minutes."
"Okay," Will said, more to himself than to the others, who weren't listening to him anyway. "But I don't know who Jack Reese is."
His curiosity was evidently not a concern to his companions, who skipped directly to another point in the conversation without bothering to provide directions to the unintiated.
"You're going to yell at Donna right now," Toby surmised with a pained sigh.
"I am, indeed. For I am Josh, Doer of Stuff. Possessor of 760 Verbal."
"God, Toby, why haven't you stolen this man for your writing staff?" asked Danny.
--Solecism, by Ryo Sen and Marguerite
Wow. She hadn't known Bobby's face could turn that color. He looked like she had just asked him to sacrifice Derek Jeter to her Pagan Love Goddess, while hopping on one foot and singing "I'm A Slave For You" in exchange for her tonguing his balls-- totally and 100% shocked and willing. It was quite similar to the look her very first boyfriend had given her when she'd told him that if he stopped looking down her blouse, he might get to unhook her bra later on.
Huh. The things one remembers.
--The Art of Being a Kept Woman, by b_cavis
There were a lot of rumors about Principal Willows. Greg's first two detentions of senior year had involved a few teachers catching him acting out the most popular gossip -- that Ms. Catherine Willows, of the strawberry-blonde hair, used to be an exotic dancer. Greg's exotic dancer impression was admittedly better than his Grissom impression. He'd even gotten a few dollar bills tucked into the waistband of his Levis before an extremely bewildered Coach Covallo made him stop.
It didn't help that Greg's first defense was that he hadn't been acting out the rumor, but, in fact, practicing for an upcoming career move, as his dearest dream was to move to Vegas and become a drag queen on the Strip. Covallo had given him another detention and told him that no one was desperate enough to pay for that.
Interestingly enough, Greg's third detention was for a Covallo imitation.
--Teacher's Pet, by Wintertime