That night, she dreams of mist and stone. There are torches and rusty iron braziers, and the soft sunset glow of flames in a golden circlet on a pale brow, on a cloak of cobwebs – gossamer – and eyes darker than the night sky. She knows the legends, she knows who he is. That is why she is not afraid; because the blood of his people flows in her veins. OCs, Barrow wights.

And his smile... Not sad or full of scorn, not that of a madman either, and not just another polite mask. A normal smile. Merry. Dazzling. Terrifying. She has never seen him before. She knows him. She has never seen him, but he was beside her bed last night. Or was it last week? (Player meets the Merry Gentleman.)

The loneliness is persistent, clinging to him like a coral to a rock on the ocean bed. When he is on his own, it grows louder like a musical chord. The emptiness thickens, the absence so strong it coalesces into a presence.

Ci dobrzy zdejmują małe kotki z drzew, a ci źli... Parę słów o tym, jak dobrym i cudownym człowiekiem był Valkorion - albo może raczej o tym, jak specyficznie Senya postrzega świat. Senya/Valkorion, pre-pre-pre romans. Scenka idiotyczna jak cała fabuła Fallen Empire :)

It is raining on Dromund Kaas. Again. She does not remember a time it was not raining here. Not so long ago she would have found the steady patter of raindrops annoying, but now it is bliss, as it drowns out the memories and the echoes of voices in her head. (Imperial Agent, Keeper)

Darmas wiedział, że prędzej czy później musiały zacząć się problemy. Ciągły stres, nienormowane godziny pracy, do tego, hm, specyfika zawodu, naprawdę, zakrawało na cud, że do tej pory tak dobrze sobie radził. (Czyli: kryzys w pracy może dopaść każdego. SPOILERY do historii Przemytniczki.)

Cedric wybiera się do trolla z Flotsam z dostawą wódki, po czym następuje filozoficzna dyskusja o porządku świata. I wiewiórkach. Humor i opary alkoholu - i absurdu.

Najlepszym podsumowaniem będzie coś, co w tym fanfiku mówi Shani: "Ostatecznie momenty jak z tandetnej ballady też są w życiu potrzebne.". I to chyba właśnie o tym. [Shani/Zygfryd, fluff po wiedźmińsku, miód z lukrem, balladowość i nawet tu i ówdzie kawałek ballady. Z cyklu "Ballada na igłę i miecz".]

Shani, Zygfryd, juwenalia w Oxenfurcie, mądrości ludowe, fluff, miód, lukier, stężenie absurdu wysokie jak stężenie alkoholu w krasnoludzkim spirytusie. Kanon z logiką mogły się zapodziać w Oxenfurcie gdzieś na świętowaniu, więc jeśli ich nie ma to już wiecie, gdzie szukać. [z cyklu "Ballada na igłę i miecz"]

Tyle lat, a dalej głupia, pomyślała Shani. Nic mu nie była winna, przecież nie byli po słowie. W ogóle nic między nimi nie było. Bo co? Spojrzenia? Ballada? Dla dzieciaków to dobre, dla sztubaków, nie dla dorosłych. I dla rycerzy może, bo zakute łby mieli. [Shani, Zygfryd, fluff chyba, jak na wiedźmińskie standardy to nawet na pewno. Z cyklu "Ballada na igłę i miecz".]

All in vain, the voices sing in a chorus, all in vain, there is nothing but empty stone halls and gold, but is gold not what you wanted, Thorin son of Thráin son of Thrór, heir of Durin, heir of Erebor, heir of the Throne Under the Mountain, heir of the empty halls and ashes and ghosts of the past.

Wszystko na próżno, śpiewają chórem głosy, wszystko na próżno, nie ma tu nic poza pustymi kamiennymi salami i złotem, ale czyż nie złota pragnąłeś, Thorinie synu Thráina, dziedzicu Thróra, dziedzicu Durina, dziedzicu Ereboru, dziedzicu Tronu pod Górą, dziedzicu pustych sal, popiołów i duchów przeszłości.

"Rain can be storm and flood. And can be the blood of growing wheat and the source of life." "You are saying I am to choose?" "You had already chosen. And it should not have gone the way it did. But perhaps now it's time to be just Wardens." "I can't forget, even if I wanted to. I need to remember." But he also remembers her voice, telling him to breathe. [DAI spoilers!]

'The little teyrna sits on her throne. One slip in judgement, how will she go on. She will have to answer for the lives she takes. She will have to answer for the lives she saves. She will have to answer for the hearts she breaks.' A foolish rhyme they used to sing back home as children, one she did not understand back then. She understands now, all too well. (!DAI SPOILERS!)

She tries to picture putting emotions as complex as love into a lifespan as short as those of the Edain, and fails. How it is possible, to make do with only a blink of an eye, a fleeting moment? Does it make men feel differently, she wonders, does it make emotions more intense? Does it make loss more staggering, like a bleeding wound to the heart? [elven protagonist, Golodir]

Nie ma pod ręką nic innego do czytania, więc wreszcie sięga po swój modlitewnik. Kiedy otwiera modlitewnik, coś wypada na jej szatę spomiędzy kartek. Wynne patrzy, wybucha śmiechem, zaśmiewa się do łez, a potem nadal się śmieje. Ach, Greagoir, myśli, wcale tak bardzo się nie zmieniłeś. Ale jest już za późno.

Oboje milkną. Nathaniel wpatruje się w jej dłonie, wreszcie nie wytrzymuje i pyta. - Co ci się stało w rękę? - Oparzyłam się – odpowiada Cousland zagadkowo. Tak, myśli, oparzyłam się, ale teraz noszę ten ogień w sobie. [Kontynuacja "Kantyczki o ogniu".]

Having nothing else to read at hand, she reaches for her prayer book. When she opens it, something falls from between the pages onto her robe. Wynne stares, then laughs, laughs to tears and then laughs some more. Ah, Greagoir, she thinks, you have not changed that much at all. Still, it is too late now.

A two-part 'The Tales of Ered Luin' epilogue.

"This will be no legend, and no tales of heroics. But there will be battles, though maybe not ones you would expect, and there will be an exiled prince and an exiled princess, and many other elements a proper tale should have." And then, reaching into her pocket and touching her fingers to a mithril bead hidden there, she began her tale. [Warning: major spoilers in the reviews!]

Czasami król Elendil nadal siaduje nad jeziorem sam. Ale częściej przechadza się wzdłuż brzegu razem z Błękitną Panią. Opowiada jej o swoim mieście, pięknym Annúminas, i o swoim ludzie, Dúnedainach. Zwierza się ze swoich wątpliwości i obaw. A Błętkina Pani cierpliwie słucha, i udziela mu rad, gdy potrafi, i okazuje uprzejmość, gdy nie jest w stanie mu doradzić.

– To też uważasz za iluzję? - Nie – odpowiada. – Tu jest najlepszy dowód. – Wyciąga rękę, żeby przygładzić jej naelektryzowane włosy. - Prawie jak magia, prawda? – pyta Georgiana. Ku swemu zdumieniu Dante czuje, że się uśmiecha. - Tak. Prawie jak magia. [ARCANUM; Dantego i Żyjącej dysputy o naturze magii i technologii.]

He forgot what everyone knows: that water does not have a heart. But she has memories, and every wave that moves the lake echoes within her. [Gwindeth's musings on Annúminas, Calenglad and king Elendil.]

Sens istnienia Geralta, dygresje barda prześladowanego przez natchnienie oraz nieskończenie cierpliwy wampir, który wyjaśnia pierwsze, a znosi drugie.

"I remember times accepting help from an Orlesian would have been called treason," Varel speaks suddenly, trying to pull her out of her bittersweet reverie. At his words she glances up and he offers a brief, slightly tired smile. She smiles back. "Then what would saving an Orlesian's life have been called?"

"Sometimes king Elendil still sits by the lake alone. But more often he walks along the shore with the Blue Lady. He tells her of his city, the beautiful Annúminas, and of his people, the Dúnedain. He tells her of his doubts and troubles, and fears. And the Blue Lady listens patiently, and offers advice when she can, and kindness when she cannot give advice."

"He has no choice but to tell his lady everything, and has even no more right to call her his lady but still he does, because that is what she has always been and will always be."

Despair like lava, suffocating and sticky, when Gorim held her that one last time, and bright as fire and eyes like flames and hair like golden lava, he whispered instead of a farewell.

Musings of things lost and gained, of homecomings and departures. Character studies: Thorin, Bilbo.

"Waterloo Sharpe'a", wg filmu, ponieważ filmy nie mają oddzielnej kategorii. Sharpe, Harper, Harris, Hagman i Sally, i ich rozmyślania o wojnie.

Fleet Admiral Sofia Archer has plans for one promising young officer, but to set them in motion, she needs to ask her colleague for help. / Binary-Star-verse. OC, Jon Grissom, Steven Hackett (mentioned only).

Sharpe's Waterloo, filmverse, since there's no separate category for it. Five people's musings about war, fighting and leaving. Sharpe, Harper, Harris, Hagman and Sally.

"You think this is another illusion?" "No," he answers. "And here's proof." He reaches out to smooth down her hair. A spark passes between her hair and his fingers. "Almost like magic, isn't it?" To his astonishment, Dante feels he is smiling. "Yes. Almost like magic." / ARCANUM. Magic-technology conflict and other things in disputes between the Living One and Dante.

'Iris has always been in love with power, and witnessing the real might of Trent's talent enrages her, but it is also enticing, in its own way. Trent is a man she will never be able to control or manipulate. Trent is the kind of man she cannot help but admire.' Beginnings of Trent and Iris' marriage.

"Remember one thing," says Duncan softly. "No Grey Warden is ever alone." "Yes. Yes," she repeats slowly, understanding that maybe he is right. Grey Wardens. Brothers in arms. (...) For the first time, she wonders what does Duncan mean to her, but the only answer she can come up with is: he is there. The only remotely familiar face in a crowd of strangers.

"But that's what we are: a soldier and her commanding officer. We had a war to win, there was no time for friendship." "There might be now." / Winning was the easy part, all right; what comes after that is much harder. There is a galaxy to rebuild, but first Shepard has to pick up the pieces and pull herself together again. Post-ME3.

You still live. And sometimes, only sometimes, when sleep does not want to come and when you can hear the silence even despite the music, you wonder why. They did not know how to dream. You do. /Glimpses of captain Nemo's life./

What happened in king Haggard's life to make him so bitter and miserable? Who was he before he was known by the name of king Haggard?

'You have no heart', Adare told him once, 'Only reason and conscience'. Yet if he has no heart, then why his chest feels heavy with an invisible burden every time he is thinking of their errors? /KotOR2. Master Vrook's musings.

The 2nd part of 'Flashes'; can be read separately, though. Jocasta/Dooku, this time from Jocasta's point of view.

Death has been through many human experiences, like having a family. But still, something is missing. A vignette, starring Death and another, not-so-antrophomorphic personification.

Master Fay, the most powerful Jedi ever, seen through the eyes of Yoda, Dooku, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Anakin Skywalker and one more Jedi, and how meeting her influenced their lives.

Sometimes in the evening, when she is alone in the Archives, Jocasta lights a candle... Vignette. Implied Jocasta/Dooku.

How was it really with erasing the data about Kamino from the Jedi Archives? Dooku/Jocasta Nu. Memories, mainly.

When Tahl is captured by Balog, she has a lot of time to think... And she thinks about Qui-Gon. Tahl POV.

Fanfic to Jules Verne's novels. About captain Nemo's colours, black and gold.

Calypso telling the story of her love for Davy Jones, plus some remarks from Davy's and Barbossa's points of view.