Ewa-a-nie-chce-spac

If Rose "LittleSisterType" Tico knew that her HoloNet blind date works for the First Order, she'd hesitate before agreeing to meet him. She told him that just after they sat down by their table. "To be honest, I wouldn't date you, if I knew that you're from the Reststance, as well", replied Dopheld "CalmnessSeeker" Mitaka. "It's not like I have something agains that personally... I just think that my superordinates wouldn't like it". Rose knew that people working for murderous regimes treat their work in the same way as regular living beings treat their ordinary jobs. However, knowledge is one thing, and experience is another. "Aren't you

Trupie wiersze i stołówkowe spiski Fandom: Gwiezdne Wojny Pairingi Rey x Kylo, być może i Finn x Rose Sytuacja była w jakimś tam stopniu standardowa. Ot, koleżanka (czytaj: Rey) była zakochana, ale nie chciała tego przed nikim przyznać. Delikatne sugestie Rose, że obiekt jej zainteresowania (czytaj: Ben Solo) ewidentnie odwzajemnia jej uczucia, zbywała lekkim uśmiechem, po czym zmieniała temat. Obiekt ów natomiast, pytany o to samo, zawsze rzucał Tico dość nieprzyjemne spojrzenie... w pierwszej chwili. Potem szybko się reflektował, próbo

She didn't want hi... it. She didn't want his hand stripped of the dark sleeve, humilitatingly outstretched in its bareness - to her and for her. And for him. With this bareness – still bumptious and impetuos with the pleading groan, but just a bit - he showed the will to leave all meaningless shards behind: „You won’t run away with me; I’ll run away with you... as long as not to your/my/our Others – just let me move a bit closer. I want only you”. „Then you’ll be all alone. Death to me in you and to you in me”. She cut him off and left.

The thought (yet still unspoken) words were breaking the silence embedding the chamber, stepping into Kylo Ren’s head and successfully barring it from the gently approaching nap. The boy — you’ll always remain a boy closed in a man’s body  — The boy man tried to convince himself — to deceive himself — that he may overcome it — perhaps — and that he'll be able to rest at least a bit after the last sleepless night. In the end he was able to do so before. Not always - even not very often - but still. He may do it now as well. Repeating the semi-prayer patterns he came up with some time

He could sense something strange in the air. This strangeness - or ever weirdness - had a very unfamiliar smell. A definitely unpleasant scent (if someone more eloquent would translate his thoughts into the words). “You’re just a kid, who knows only life, but doesn’t know anything about everything else, yup?”, asked the clerk lady gloomily, noticing Shaun’s fearful glance. “You wouldn’t understand me, if I told you that everyone has some skeletons in their closet… am I right? You probably can’t understand the concept of skeletons - neither in the literal, nor in the metaphorical way”

They saw her by an accident: she was a sorrowful woman, constricting herself down to the ground, with the swarm of all these years, which she’s subsisted somehow – the tiddly creature, nestling into the soil, shaken with her fear (as a field mouse, when it’s finally fled to its burrow from the clutches of an eagle-owl), was holding the tombstone against her chest: she had to be the another victim of surviving, while the other(s) should have lasted. They came to her out of their propriety, threw the blanket on her back, squeezed some slices of bread to her hand, and then gave her a bowl of hot soup (without a spoon). R

Wkute w kamień Uciskającą siebie w żalu kobietę, pochyloną do ziemi przez wielość lat przetrwanych, dojrzeli przypadkiem: przycupnięta i maluchna, trzęsiona przez strach (niczym mysz leśna, gdy już do nory umknie przed szponami puchacza), kamień grobowy do piersi przyciskała - zapewne kolejna ofiara tego, iż to jej udało się przeżyć (choć ktoś inny winien). Z przyzwoitości podeszli, koc jej na plecy narzucili i kilka kromek chleba wcisnęli, po czym podsunęli miskę gorącej zupy (łyżki nie podali). -Ta

English: Something popples - it's the waters of many seas of various "maybe", numerous as water drops transitory as these little fellows, when the historical Sun blisters, durable as them, when the historical star gets cold. The paradox of "maybe" can't progress further, to the places unreached by the thread of popularity: Mickiewicz, Mrożek - they are - without any doubt - the sources of parakubrickal shining; even Rodziewiczówna with Orzeszkowa are ruled by silver sparkles, almost like at Literary Firmament King's place. And maybe "maybe" is a feeble alibi? In the end books weren't constituted to do something more. The seal o