FaerieKnight79 on spacebattles commented as part of a discussion the following:
But one's writing style is not a formatting issue. It's based on how you structure your sentences, word choices, and how you describe things. Starting every story you write with "It was a dark and stormy night" or variations of that would be a writing style. Never using five words when fifteen would suffice to describe something is a writing style. Starting every paragraph off with 'Bouncy bouncy bouncy' would be a (admittedly weird and nonsensical) writing style.
How could I let that go?
It was a dark and stormy night.
"Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy!" squealed Missy.
"Must you?" Carlos sighed. He watched the muggers as they arced through the air, landing on the ground then immediately flipping up again, shrieking, into the black and rain-filled sky. The youngest Ward was clapping her hands in glee as whatever the hell she'd managed to do to space around the empty lot basically produced a series of zones where gravity seemed to be working in reverse. She was skilfully using other small space warps to redirect the four men she'd captured into these zones, repeatedly flinging them upwards over and over. Two of them had already lost their dinners, quite spectacularly.
"Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy!"
"Vista..."
"Wheee!"
"Oh, for fuck's..." He put a hand over his face, pulling it downwards, before throwing his hands in the air. The sight of Saurial, who had, as usual, randomly turned up, watched for a moment with a wide grin, then thrown herself into one of the upgoer spots, was probably something he should have expected. She tucked into a roll, her tail somehow managing to direct her spin, pinged off a building, and passed one of the muggers on the way down again. The man stared in horror as she waved gaily.
When Dennis ran past him and jumped into the fray, laughing his head off, he shook his own, turned around, and headed back to the PRT building. "This is like a badly written parody of what life should be like," he grumbled on the way, deciding he simply couldn't wait until he was old enough to leave the Wards. Perhaps Armsmaster would be willing to bend the rules a little? It was only two months until his eighteenth birthday after all.
"Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy!" The cries faded into the distance as he walked.
"Wheee!"
"Bullshiiiit! And wheee!"
Sighing, he turned his face up to the stormy and dark night, complaining, "Why me? What did I do to you?"
There was no answer. There was never an answer.