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About Deviant Artist TheOtherSarshiFemale/Romania Groups :iconaudiofans: AudioFans
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Deviant for 7 Years
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Four Haikus
Over mother's books
In the corners of her shelves
Dust has long settled.
On a weathered couch
Just as seven years ago
He sits, watching films.
An old childhood friend
The life and soul of parties
Has passed away. Flu.
In the front garden
Tall grass, some fading roses,
A lack of huskies.
:icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 0 2
to my Grammar Nazi
Sir, since you are a teacher proper
I would invite you home for supper
To teach a street rat such as I
How to speak better on the fly
But since my boyfriend does object
To such a splendid intellect
I'm afraid I must decline
To give a thought to words like thine.
:icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 5 4
The Old Man and the Stench
This summer an acquaintance told me that an old man was looking for someone to help him write a book.
"He's an old university professor, and a bit quirky," he told me. "He'll only be around for a few months, because he needs to return to the university and he'll sell his apartment here, but until then he wants to get the book done."
So I decided to check out the job offer.
I met the old man at a bar. He wore a cowboy hat and a suit which made him look like someone who'd stumbled into town straight from the set of the Dallas series. I sat down with him and we started talking. Now, as I was speaking, my eyes wandered to his suit, where I happened to notice a green stain which seemed to be a grass stain. I averted my eyes to pretend it wasn't there, because who knew how the old man had gotten it - maybe he'd stumbled and fallen into the grass and now he was embarrassed about it.
Now, while averting my eyes, I saw other parts of his suit. A red stain, a yellow stain... Different colors, di
:icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 5 14
The episodic literature experience
I'm no longer dreaming of getting published: I'm hungry for it, like a ravenous wolf who once got a taste of its prey and now cannot help but stalk. I have plans, I have ideas, I (finally!) have courage. The only thing I seem to lack is time (last year I was almost exclusively out of work. This year I took everything that came my way; it was, perhaps, unwise).
My first novel is out, published in a free-to-read format on In April it will come out as an ebook, audiobook and paperback. Right now it's in a strange sort of place: it was published chapter by chapter every week for a year, with three breaks of a week each. 48 chapters. Around 140.000 words. You can go check it out: it's fantasy, dark(ish), and it's about an angel and a woman lost in Hell - the literal place where demons and devils roam. You might like it or not, it's in a bit of a niche. 
Anyway, episodic literature is am
:icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 6 4
A Moment of Emotions by TheOtherSarshi A Moment of Emotions :icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 1 0
The Fighter and the Blond
The building was eerily quiet, as if all its inhabitants had taken vows of silence. It suited Sara just fine. She felt like a shadow herself, a ghost haunting an elegant Kyoto penthouse. And why not? Surely heads of criminal organizations had beautiful homes that they eventually killed people in. She could be one of the murdered, eventually, if she played her cards wrong. Unless, of course, they were more clever than to kill her in elegant places where her death would draw a lot of attention. Sara was still a bit shaky on the details of such organizations. All of her information came from fiction, which was unreliable as a whole.
The thought of dying didn't make her afraid, or even very anxious. In a way, it didn't matter to her whether she lived or died, except in this case dying meant losing the game. She didn't fancy losing.
"Can I get you anything, mistress?"
The man had been sitting humbly on a pillow for the better part of two hours. Sara was too apathetic at the moment to stir m
:icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 7 5
The Rumor
There's a rumor of wasps
nesting in people's bodies.
You sit in the garden with a friend
and a wasp flies in your ear
pierces your ear drum
digs galleries within you
builds chambers between your vital organs.
It lays eggs and they hatch, buzzing.
You put your fingers in your ears
but it's too late
they sting you from inside
you walk: a living, buzzing, hurting thing
alive with wasps inside you.
You stumble through dark alleys
keeping them inside
biting your tongue with pain
until you feel you're nearly dead.
Then you tear yourself open
letting them fly out
and they're freed into the world
making other victims.
But for now, you're free of buzzes
until, again, you're with a friend
having tea in a garden.
:icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 17 15
Sigmund Freud, in your dreams by TheOtherSarshi Sigmund Freud, in your dreams :icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 2 3
Amnesia does things to me
Amnesia is a scary game
Amnesia is a fright
I love to play, so it’s a shame
It kills my sleep at night.
Insomniac, I walk around
A glass of drink to find
When in the dark I hear a sound–
Steve might be right behind!
I dart around, a crazy girl
In an old, friendly house
I find a box, in it I curl
More quiet than a mouse.
When dawn is nigh, I crawl outside
And glance around in fear
The laptop then I open wide–
The time to play is here.
:icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 0 0
Trees In Winter by TheOtherSarshi Trees In Winter :icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 4 0 Peacock Me This by TheOtherSarshi Peacock Me This :icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 0 0 Man with flowers by TheOtherSarshi Man with flowers :icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 0 0 Smooth Cat by TheOtherSarshi Smooth Cat :icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 19 0 Herastrau in Colors by TheOtherSarshi Herastrau in Colors :icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 0 0
Of Grandparents and the Afterlife
The question came out of nowhere: had my grandmother ever stood in the same spot I did, looking down at the same city, at the same church, at the same old buildings? (although perhaps they hadn't been quite so old in her youth).
Maybe it was because I was trying so hard to see the beauty of Brașov and was failing to. I thought of it as 'Kronstadt', as 'Brassó', as 'Corona', trying to see it as if it were new and foreign, trying to see that Transylvanian Saxon architecture that people were so enchanted with. Or maybe the beauty of the hill covered in trees right behind me, now white with snow and winter.
No use.
The city lay before me as it always did and I hated my strange brand of synesthesia, which sometimes makes me see cities or books in colors and Brașov was always a dull, burdening grey, a smoke that covered good feelings and made me think not of prosperous people and beauty, but of communism and misery. I'd passed the old fortifications, the huge walls and sturd
:icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 8 16
Your poem
If I were to write you a poem,
but I won't, because that would be corny
(I'm a down to earth sort of girl and
you're the equivalent sort of guy)
I'd lose the stuff about stars in your eyes,
your hair being like raven's locks or whatever
(why'd you cut it? I'll compare it to a loss.
Your hair is like a loss, because it's mostly gone. There.)
Forget that whole conundrum with forevers and eternities
(why doesn't my spell checker underline 'eternities'?
do we somehow suppose there's more than one?
but then why isn't 'forevers' ok?)
I wouldn't say I'm enchanted with you
nor that I love you from here until somewhere (somewhen?)
(my spell checker is acting up again,
write me some code that will add 'somewhen' to all my checkers, forever)
I'd write you a poem about how I like your work ethic
(I'm a workaholic, dear, it's among the first things I see)
and I'd put down in words that you're NOT
as unreadable as you think
(and then act all secretive and knowing, 'cause no,
I can't read you
:icontheothersarshi:TheOtherSarshi 9 6


I don't know if anybody still follows me, really, but one thing I really hate about online people is that they sometimes disappear without a trace and I don't even know if they're still alive.

I'm still alive.

A few years ago, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to make a decent living with my skill set. I mean, sure, I can write - but how many writers live off their books, you know?

I got lucky, eventually, and I landed a few English to Romanian translation gigs for various self-help, personal development books. It was a bit funny, since I'm a fairly cynical person who doesn't believe in that sort of thing, but I did my best and it went well.

I then landed a few Romanian to English translation gigs for fiction, which was a step up.

And in 2014, I got recruited as a freelance translator for one of *the* biggest video gaming companies out there. I've been working for them ever since and it's amazing, it's got that blend of creativity and madness and fun and teamwork that I can't help but love. 

Incidentally, it's a demanding job, which sucks most of my time and creativity away. I'm also currently living with The Guy, who takes up more of my time with more awesomeness. I'm happy, but I no longer write as much as I used to. It's a bit hard to bugger off into a quiet corner and do my writing thing when there's someone around and I'm not anywhere near a quiet corner.

When we were in school, we were told that geniuses write their works in "solitude and pain" - I'm not sure I agree with the "pain" bit, but I'm starting to get the "solitude" bit.

I love my new life, but sometimes I resent it a little for not leaving much room for other things I love.



Proud owner of 4 DDs and 7 DLDs :D

Off dA:

:bulletgreen:I proofread texts for Project Gutenberg on Distributed Proofreaders. It's fun. Consider this pimping.
:bulletgreen:I translate from Romanian to English and the other way around, if anybody's interested in my services. (I've been hired as a translator before)


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Felanore Featured By Owner Jun 17, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
AND MAN DID SAYETH BACK UNTO HIM "It's a party, dude. You brought a gift, right?"
AND THE LORD WAS LIKETH "Oh, sh*t. That's today? Jesus..."
AND SO THE LORD DID SAYETH UNTO HIM, YEA, EVEN UNTO HIS OWN SON "I didn't mean YOU, Jesus. I was just... it's not important."
The Lost Book of Tyr 22:13-20

And that's why I hope you have a happy birthday. =D
TheOtherSarshi Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2016
Thank youuu! :D
Felanore Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Always, m'dear. Even when it's not your birthday. ;D
Melrose437 Featured By Owner Jul 21, 2015
Wow, I just got here from Fanfiction and then Archives of Our Own since I missed your story Humble Shopkeeper  and I wanted to check out if you were still active. I guess real life got in the way like it does most of the time and that's why not much has been updated.

Oh well I hope you are well and that you might come back and entertain us with some fanfictions if you have the time :)
TheOtherSarshi Featured By Owner Aug 2, 2015
Hi! Oh God, it's been forever since I uploaded a new chapter *anywhere*.

Real life really did get to me. All's good with me, except for the fact that I'm one overly busy translator who's behind on her original stories, too. If I don't post here every few months, you may assume an editor strangled me from sheer frustration.

Thanks for the concern! :hug: I never planned on being one of those disappearing authors one keeps encountering on and Ao3, but I guess I ended up being one anyway :(
Felanore Featured By Owner Jun 17, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
And another birthday already? Jeez. Don't you know getting older is so last year, dahling?

Well, it is, and I won't have it for you. Nonono. I insist.

Here's a formula to stop time. It's only side-effect is absolutely-irreversible and otherwise permanent death but, you know what they say dahling, beauty may fade but good looks are forevah.

... What do you mean it's the other way around? Oh, dear. This is probably bad.
TheOtherSarshi Featured By Owner Jun 17, 2015
:)) Now, *that* was one of the funnest things I've read this birthday. Thanks! 
Felanore Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
;D I'm so very glad I could help. Thank you for being amazing, as always.
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