#russian writing
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insane-control-room Ā· 3 months ago
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сŠµŠŗрŠµŃ‚
Š—Š“ŠµŃŃŒ Š¼Š½Š¾Š³Š¾ сŠµŠŗрŠµŃ‚Š¾Š².
Rated: G Warnings: Death/Corpse Mention AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57956587 Length: 100 (very short) Language: Russian
ink demonth - secret
Note: this is my first time writing in Russian- I'm aware that this is a bit janky and not very good. hopefully I will be able to get more practice and do better. Feedback appreciated! thank you to alex for helping me with spelling and grammar!
Š•ŃŃ‚ŃŒ чтŠ¾-тŠ¾ Š¾Ń‡ŠµŠ½ŃŒ стрŠ°ŃˆŠ½Š¾Šµ Š² этŠ¾Š¼ Š¼ŠµŃŃ‚Šµ. Š•ŃŠ»Šø ŠŗтŠ¾-тŠ¾ уŠ¼ŠøрŠ°ŠµŃ‚, Š½ŠøŠŗтŠ¾ Š½Šµ Š·Š½Š°ŠµŃ‚, ŠŗуŠ“Š° труŠæ ухŠ¾Š“Šøт.
Š•ŃŃ‚ŃŒ шёŠæŠ¾Ń‚ Š² тŠµŠ¼Š½Š¾Ń‚Šµ, Š² тŠµŠ¼Š½Š¾Ń‚Šµ Š³ŃƒŃŃ‚Š¾Š¹, ŠŗŠ°Šŗ стŠ°Ń€Ń‹Šµ чŠµŃ€Š½Ń‹Šµ чŠµŃ€Š½ŠøŠ»Š°, чтŠ¾ труŠæы рŠ°ŃŃ‚Š²Š¾Ń€ŃŃŽŃ‚ся.Ā 
ŠŠ¾ этŠ¾ Š½Šµ рŠ°Š±Š¾Ń‚Š°ŠµŃ‚, учŠøтыŠ²Š°Ń Š·Š°ŠŗŠ¾Š½ Š¾ сŠ¾Ń…Ń€Š°Š½ŠµŠ½ŠøŠø Š¼Š°ŃŃŃ‹- у тŠµŠ»Š° ŠøŠ¼ŠµŠµŃ‚ ŠŗŠ¾ŃŃ‚Šø Šø Š¾Ń€Š³Š°Š½Ń‹, Š½Šµ Š¼Š¾Š¶ŠµŃ‚ тŠ°ŠŗŠ¾Š³Š¾ Š±Ń‹Ń‚ŃŒ.
Š’ этŠ¾Š¼ Š¼ŠµŃŃ‚Šµ сŠøŠ»ŃŒŠ½Ń‹Š¹ Š¼Š¾Ń€ Š“Š»Ń Š¼Š¾Š·Š³Š° Šø Š“Š»Ń Š“ушŠø, этŠ° Š±Š¾Š»ŠµŠ·Š½ŃŒ тŠµŃ‡Ń‘Ń‚ чŠµŃ€ŠµŠ· Š³Š»Š°Š·Š° Šø ушŠø, Šø Š²ŃŠµ ŠæŠ¾ŠµŠ“Š°ŠµŃ‚.Ā 
Š­Ń‚Š¾Ń‚ сŠµŠŗрŠµŃ‚ Š¾Š“ŠøŠ½ ŠøŠ· Š¼Š½Š¾Š³Šøх, Š¼Š½Š¾Š³Šøх сŠµŠŗрŠµŃ‚Š¾Š² Š² этŠøх Š“ŠµŃ€ŠµŠ²ŃŠ½Š½Ń‹Ń… стŠµŠ½Š°Ń…-
Š½Š¾ ŠµŃŠ»Šø чŠµŠ»Š¾Š²ŠµŠŗ сŠæрŠ¾ŃŠøт:
Ā«Ń‡Ń‚Š¾ Š¾Š½Šø Š“ŠµŠ»Š°ŃŽŃ‚ с труŠæŠ°Š¼Šø?Ā»
Š¾Ń‚Š²ŠµŃ‚Š° Š½Šµ Š±ŃƒŠ“ŠµŃ‚- Š½ŠøчŠµŠ³Š¾ Š½ŠµŃ‚, Š½Šø чŠµŠ»Š¾Š²ŠµŠŗŠ°, Š½Šø тŠµŠ»Š°- Š²ŃŠµ уŠ¼ŠµŃ€Š»Šø.
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mournfulroses Ā· 2 months ago
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Marina Tsvetaeva, from The Essential Poems of Marina Tsvetaeva; "For Anna Akhmatova,"
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metamorphesque Ā· 10 months ago
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"Poems are not written...", Andrey Voznesensky (translated by metamorphesque)
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joytri Ā· 9 months ago
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People speak sometimes about the "bestial" cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.
Fyodor Dostoevsky
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fifthnailinstevesbat Ā· 6 days ago
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thinking of a new steddie fic/au hmmm.
Itā€™s just the classic, Steve buys weed from Eddie in season 1 era, he and Tommy meet him at the bench in the woods behind school. Steve and Eddie have some playful banter and clearly get along, but itā€™s dismissed as just a drug deal and they go on about their lives.
Next time they meet is when a frantic Steve comes and finds Eddie after heā€™s just fought off the demogorgon for the first time. Heā€™s rattled, and skittish, wearing a nasty black bruise on his eye, and just overall not acting like himself. He snaps at Eddie multiple times to just ā€˜hurry upā€™ and ā€˜get him his stuffā€™, and sure heā€™s being an asshole, but more than anything Eddie is just concerned. He has never seen The King Steve Harrington lose his cool like this. So Eddie cautiously gives him the weed, making sure not to give too much, and lets him go about his day, but not before asking if heā€™s alright. Steve clearly wasnā€™t expecting this and brushes it off defensively, but that doesnā€™t mean heā€™s not thinking about it for the rest of his week. How the hell did Eddie Munson notice something was wrong, when his own parents didnā€™t? Nor his ā€œfriendsā€?
They cross paths again a year later, the beginning of season two. Steve is still with Nancy and has freshly dumped his old douchebag crew of superficial friends. He is still sitting quite comfortably on the higher ranks of popularity, but there is no denying his status is not what it used to be. He comes to buy weed from Eddie in the first week back at school, and itā€™s a casual interaction. Heā€™s still as charmingly stuck up as he ever was, but now without Tommy there to judge his every move, he seems a little more at ease when making casual conversation with Eddie. Eddie doesnā€™t mention the year before and Steve is so glad for it, secretly very embarrassed that he went to Eddie for some refuge after arguably his most traumatic experience to date. He gets his stuff, giving Eddie a smirk when he notices heā€™s dropped the price significantly for Steve when itā€™s just him alone. Eddie gives him a challenging smile back, almost daring him to call it out, but he doesnā€™t. They both just laugh and part ways.
The next run in is tinaā€™s halloween party. They notice eachother when Steve first arrives, making eye contact and giving a polite nod. Maybe Eddie lifts his drink up to Steve in a silly salute. They donā€™t speak at all or make any effort to hang around eachother. That is, until Steve storms down the stairs in a rage after heā€™d gone up there with Nancy Wheeler. But then are those- tears? Eddie was standing on the front porch smoking a cigarette, trying to discreetly hide from one Billy Hargrove to avoid having to sell him anything, but staying visible enough that he wonā€™t lose all chances of making any money tonight. Steve storms right past him and hits his shoulder. Eddie whips around and is about to call him a dick before he sees who it is.
Steve tries to quickly wipe his face, he wonā€™t make eye contact with Eddie, and heā€™s clearly trying to get out as fast as he can. Eddie doesnā€™t let him, though, since heā€™s obviously not thinking very clearly and is most likely about to do something emotional and stupid. He asks if Steveā€™s alright, and his answers are all short and rushed, so heā€™s definitely not. Theyā€™re not really friends, but Eddieā€™s not an asshole.
ā€” ā€œDid you drive?ā€ Eddie asks
ā€œYeahā€
ā€œWell, youā€™re drunk, Steve. You canā€™t get behind a wheel right now. And if I knowingly let you, then that makes me an accomplice. Iā€™ll take you home.ā€
Steve tries to protest, attempting to push past him, but Eddie interjects. ā€œYeah, yeah, alright! Donā€™t thank me yet, Steveā€™o. This is not for you, see, Iā€™m not trying to get a criminal record, here. I cant go to prison, Steve. Do you know what theyā€™d do to a pretty guy like me in prison? Nope, letā€™s go hot stuff.ā€ ā€”
Eddie takes Steve home. They donā€™t talk much. By the time they reach Steveā€™s drive way and Eddie has put his van in park, Steve is making no attempt to exit the vehicle just yet. Eddie doesnā€™t know what to do, he didnā€™t really plan this far, so heā€™s just tapping away awkwardly at his steering wheel while Harrington stares down the dashboard so clearly lost in thought Eddie fears his head might explode. Steve tells Eddie what happened, says itā€™s ā€˜relationship troublesā€™, and heā€™s not quite sure what compelled him into being so honest with Eddie Munson, but heā€™s blaming the alcohol. Eddie wasnā€™t expecting that. They chat for a bit, Eddie makes Steve laugh and considers the whole night a success after that. Then they start cracking jokes about their shared hatred for Hargrove, and Steve looks and sounds a bit more ok to go inside. He thanks Eddie, quite sincerely actually, and it throws him a bit. He stutters a ā€˜yeah, for sure. Itā€™s no problem.ā€™ And Steve goes home.
After that, itā€™s a little different. Steve, doesnā€™t actually really have anyone, anymore. When they go back to school heā€™s now greeting Eddie here and there in the hallways, making conversation when they find themselves alone together, in the lunch line or at the bathroom sink. He doesnā€™t approach Eddie when thereā€™s too many people around, though. As much as heā€™s grown, Steve Harrington still carryā€™s some prejudice in him about how certain things may make him look. But it doesnā€™t bother Eddie too much. Itā€™s not like they are really friends, theyā€™re just like, strange acquaintances. And Steve would never deny that they get along, that really Eddieā€™s ā€˜not so badā€™. So thatā€™s a win.
Steve finds Eddie again not long after the party to buy some more weed, a plan that sparked purely out of boredom. Eddie says yes, of course, but tells him if he wants it today he will need to wait till after school and meet Eddie at his place, since he was busy. So Steve takes a trip to the Munson trailer to make his deal. Eddie invites him inside and they sit together on the couch as he gets Steveā€™s bag ready. They end up making quite pleasant conversation, joking around and ultimately finding they are really enjoying each otherā€™s company. They enjoy it so much so, that Steve ends up smoking there, with Eddie. So now they are kind of like, hanging out? And itā€™s fun, so they do it again. Still theyā€™re not, friends friends, they just get along. Eddie just sells Steve weed sometimes and they keep it civil.
He doesnā€™t hear from Steve for a while, and the next time he sees him itā€™s from a distance, in passing. The man has the most roughed up face Eddie has ever seen, bruised and swollen in multiple areas, stitches and bandages all over. Itā€™s really, concerning? completely metal, but alarming. This is the second time Eddie has seen the guy all beaten up like that. He knew that boys fight, but surely not that bad? As worried as he was, Eddie doesnā€™t approach him to ask questions, because they donā€™t know eachother like that. So he goes on about his day, and he doesnā€™t see Steve again after that for quite some time.
Then itā€™s summer, Eddie isnā€™t graduating again, and heā€™s not really sure what to do with himself over the break. The new mall has just opened up, and thereā€™s a cool music store up on the second floor that he likes to visit sometimes with his band friends. And wouldnā€™t you know, working at the Scoops Ahoy located directly across from his favourite store, is Steve Harrington. The guy hasnā€™t come to Eddie for any weed since last year, and then there was that sighting where he looked like heā€™d just fallen face first into a flying fist or two, so itā€™s been a minute since Eddieā€™s seen him. And heā€™d be lying if he said it wasnā€™t a nice surprise. He only goes into scoops once. Heā€™s curious, okay? Sue him. And, he knows the girl who works with him, Robin. So he plays it off like he had no idea heā€™d see Steve there. And to his surprise, Steve actually acknowledges him. He doesnā€™t act like Eddie is a total stranger just because theyā€™re not in school anymore. The interaction is quick, they make very casual conversation, Eddie says hi to Robin, grabs his milkshake and goes home. Thatā€™s all. He doesnā€™t go back, and he doesnā€™t really plan to. Steveā€™s nice, and he knows Eddieā€™s around if he needs to buy from him again, and thatā€™s really as far as their relationship goes. Thatā€™s all it ever was. Itā€™s been fun getting to know Steve Harrington a little bit better, even if it was just for a short time. Eddie liked having the chance to see in past the quaffed hair and pressed polo shirts to learn that Steve was really just a person under it all. He never thought heā€™d say it, but Harrington wasnā€™t so bad. It was a nice little eye opening experience for Eddie.
Eddie was ready to write off his little blips of interaction with Steve Harrington as a thing of the past, no hard feelings, and move on with his life. That is, until he gets a knock at his front door in the middle of the night afew days after the big mall fire. And itā€™s Steve on the other side. And he looks awful, his face is the worst Eddieā€™s ever seen it. And he wasnā€™t really knocking, more like pounding. He says he needs Eddieā€™s help.
What the fuck?
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amicus-noctis Ā· 1 year ago
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lenainwonderland Ā· 6 months ago
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ā€œI'm a master of speaking silently, all my life I've spoken silently and I've lived through entire tragedies in silence.ā€ - Fyodor Dostoevsky
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munsonfamilyband Ā· 2 years ago
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Iā€™ve been on a Soulmates kick today and just saw a fic where Steve has two marks - one for Robin and one for Eddie. And itā€™s got me thinking.
Of course, he doesnā€™t know who his marks are for. He only knows that theyā€™re two people because they look so different. Soulmarks show up where you and your soulmate will have the first skin-skin contact, and they have the words they will say when that happens written in their handwriting.
Steve has one covering his palm, the handwriting is small and sharp, all angles and no rounded edges. That one says ā€œSteve, we need to runā€. It seems scared, the wording, but he refuses to think about it. The other mark he has is covering his left hip, curling like someone was holding him from the side. This handwriting is completely different from the other one and is best described as chicken scratch. Itā€™s big and messy, letters flowing into each other like the writer didnā€™t even pick up their pen between each stroke. That one says ā€œI got you, just lean on meā€. It seems less scared but thereā€™s concern laced in the words that helps Steve feel less alone when heā€™s laying in bed late at night. Thatā€™s the only time he ever lets himself think about his soulmates, during the day he avoids it like the plague. His parents are soulmates and they barely speak, so soulmates canā€™t be all theyā€™re cracked up to be. After Nancy never makes one of his marks tingle and burn he tries to give up on the idea entirely, figuring he can go on without a soulmate and be with Nancy - but then she breaks his heart and those late nights are all he has.
His first soulmark changes when heā€™s stuck underneath Starcourt mall the summer after he graduated. He had been working with a girl, Robin, who barely tolerated him on a good day and now sheā€™s been sucked into his shitty world. When the alarms go off in the bunker he barely has a second to react before Robin is grabbing his hand and yelling at him, ā€œSteve, we need to run!ā€ His feet start moving and he yells back for her to be careful with his arm, even as he feels the tingling burn cover his palm and in that supply closet, leaning against the door next to Robin they make eye contact. In that short second of connection he knows that she felt it to, that heā€™s just found his soulmate and despite his fear heā€™s so happy that itā€™s her. Later, after they had both puked up their guts and he had confessed to having a crush on her, Robin told him about Mrs. Clickā€™s class and Tammy Thompson and how sheā€™s sorry that heā€™s stuck with a soulmate who can never love him back. Steve blinks and suddenly his two soulmarks make so much more sense.
ā€œRobin, I have another soulmark. I donā€™tā€¦ I donā€™t think you were ever a romantic soulmate for me.ā€ He watches the relief and, maybe even, joy cover her face and she launches herself at him in a hug, squeezing him tight and he returns the favor completely ignoring his own pain.
The other soulmate comes over 8 months after meeting Robin. He was so grateful for having her in his life but he still wanted that other piece, he loved Robin and she loved him but he wanted romantic love too. Unfortunately for Steve, just like with Robin, his other soulmark was triggered when he was fearing for his life. He had just been dragged through Watergate and made into a chew toy for a bunch of demobats. Steve was just trying to catch his breath when they all heard the bigger hoard approaching and he knew he had to run. He made it surprisingly far before the pain of each step started to settle in, his feet dragging more and more and his pace slowing when someone moved in beside him, wrapping one arm around his back to settle his hand on his hip. Eddie grabbed the arm closest to him and dragged it over his shoulders, giving Steve a grin. ā€œI got you, you can lean on me.ā€ This only made Steve completely trip; the sudden onset of tingling burning at his side so close to his currently bleeding wounds had his left leg collapsing under his weight.
ā€œWhy does this always happen when Iā€™m in danger?ā€ Eddie froze and then a laugh burst forward.
ā€œThat makes so much sense with context. Cā€™mon letā€™s get you somewhere to sit and we can talk more when youā€™re not bleeding over me.ā€
When he and Eddie got to Skull Rock, he and Robin made eye contact and he watched her eyes flit down to where Eddieā€™s hand was on his side. Her eyes grew about three sizes and he just shot her the best grin he could. He didnā€™t care that he had been bleeding all over his soulmate for the past few minutes - he had gotten blood on Robin when they found out that they were soulmates, so it seemed fitting for him to be doing the same to Eddie.
Years down the road he would look back and laugh at the drama surrounding him finding both of his soulmates. Eddie even joked that the universe gave him two to make up for his shitty parents, and Steve wasnā€™t going to argue.
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queenie-ofthe-void Ā· 11 days ago
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A follow-up to my Hanahaki Platonic Stobin drabble
Platonic Stobin, Steddie, past Stancy || rating: T || wc: 2.7k || tags: dialogue heavy, VERY excessive use of italics, fluff and flirting and humor, no beta
~~~
His sides are ripped to shreds, insides only kept inside because of the torn, dirty scrap of sweater Nancy wrapped around him. Steveā€™s been downplaying it as much as possible, mostly to keep Munson calm, but Robin knows better.
Whatā€™s wrong with your back?
Steve sighs, trying to mute his thoughts into a scramble like theyā€™ve practiced so well over the past nine months, but the scorching pain on his shoulder blades, feet, and arms makes it rather difficult.
Donā€™t you dare ignore me Steve Harrington.
She glares back at him from her spot next to Nancy. Theyā€™ve been walking for miles, every rock and crack in the ground digging into his feet with every step. Munsonā€™s next him, going on about something like bats, or metal music. Steveā€™s not sure, heā€™s having a hell of a time focusing.
But the guy crowds into Steveā€™s space, dipping in and out of orbit like he canā€™t help being as close as possible. Eddie keeps looking at him. Steveā€™s never been great with eye contact, but canā€™t help it when Eddie starts saying things like ā€œthe kid worships you, dudeā€ and ā€œinsists on the matter, in fact.ā€
Told you the kid loves you even though he has another older adult male friend.
Steve can practically hear her giggling, but sheā€™s just balancing her out-loud conversation with their mind-reading conversation. Sheā€™s better at it than he is, talking to two people at once. Hell, sometimes Steve has a hard enough time keeping track of just one conversation.
Their new super powers had been a learning curve, to say the least. Itā€™d taken them months to learn how to tune each other out when needed, which was more often than not. Working Family Video shed a new light on how absolutely down-bad horny Steve was for almost every mildly attractive woman who walked through the front door. Including Joyce Byers, to Robinā€™s horror.
Steve was cursed with Robinā€™s almost near-constant thoughts about her newest crush, Vickie. Heā€™s never met her before, doesnā€™t remember her from school, but could describe what she looks like down to the small, rust colored freckle on the corner of her left eye, just below the lash line.Ā 
But even with the extensive learning curve, they discovered some severe consequences of their powers almost immediately.Ā 
The first day Robin came over, bloodied and crying, with him no better off, Steve was so shaky heā€™d dropped a mug, slicing his hand as he scooped up the pieces. She rushed over, said she heard his pain more than felt it, like loud static.Ā 
So, no sharing physical sensations, just mind-reading. Which is great for me, considering how slutty you are. Sheā€™d laughed when he lightly knocked her on the shoulder, but sheā€™d thought it with such fondness that he couldnā€™t be mad if he tried.
The worst of their situation came to light when Robinā€™s parents called her home, said a weekend away after Star Court was more than enough. So sheā€™d left him alone in that big, empty house, suffering from a severe concussion and dizzy spells.
Which only grew worse the longer they were apart.
Steve didnā€™t have anywhere to go, now jobless with the mall gone, and none of the kids came to visit. So heā€™d holed himself up in his room. The headaches grew worse, handfuls of pills doing nothing to help.
By the fifth day, he was vomiting again, shaking and crying, head throbbing, nose bleeding into the toilet bowl all over again when there was a knock on the door. The knock might as well have been inside his skull, but he couldnā€™t move, could barely see past the haze clouding his periphery like it had after his fight with Billy. He cried as the knocking grew louder, more persistent, until it finally stopped.
He slumped forward, pressed his head into the cool porcelain. Lifting his hand to flush, he noticed a small, vibrant white petal floating amidst the red and black water, all of which, presumably, came out of him.
ā€“canā€™t find it. Must beā€¦ rock. The mat?
Robin?
There was a click, then the sound of his front door opening. Slow, heavy footsteps up the stairs.
Dingus where the hell are you? Not in the bedroomā€¦ Please, Steve, I need help.
That got his attention, but as heā€™d gone to move, the bathroom door opened to a bloodstained Robin, eyes rimmed red, hair a mess, pale and gaunt like a ghost. She dropped to the ground next to him, practically draped herself over his back. And just like before, the pain receded so violently he vomited one last time. A full, yet slightly crumpled, flower floated amidst the yuck inside the toilet.Ā 
It was a daisy.
ā€œDaisies are my favorite,ā€ Robin whispered. She held out her hand to him, dirty and covered in the same green stains as the ones on her shirt, and handed him a very small, miniature sunflower. ā€œSo Iā€™m guessingā€“ā€
My favorite.
Eventually theyā€™d figured out what works and what doesnā€™t. Talking on the phone everyday never helped, back to throwing up flowers after only a week. Heā€™d started to pull the daisies out to dry, which Robin said was gross. She took them home with her anyways.Ā 
But heā€™d borrowed Robin a sweatshirt that she took home with her, and by the fourth day, she was in better shape than he was, only a slight headache instead of Steveā€™s encroaching migraine. So they started exchanging clothes and quickly learned it wasnā€™t necessarily their clothes or possessions, but their scents.Ā 
You smell kind of like sunflowers
ā€œRobin, sunflowers donā€™t have a smell.ā€
She was face first in his pillow, day seventeen after a two-week family vacation to Key West, returning his comforter, and a myriad of t-shirts. Theyā€™d both gotten migraines, but no vomit-soaked flowers or bloody noses. So it was an improvement, overall.
I know they donā€™t. Itā€™s more like, I donā€™t know, sunshine. Or fresh grass. A warm rainā€¦ like summer.
Heā€™d jumped on her then, smothered her into his mattress until she was tickling him to get off her.
ā€œWhat do I smell like?ā€ sheā€™d asked, casual but not quite casual enough. He smiled.
Like daisies. An open field full of wildflowers. A new song, or driving with the windows down.Ā 
She smiled back at him, wide and genuine, packed full of love. And he knew, in that moment, he was happy to spend the rest of his life with her.
ā€œHarrington,ā€ Eddie cuts through his reminiscing. The guy looks like heā€™s trying not to be annoyed, which makes sense considering heā€™s attempting to be nice and Steveā€™s completely zoned out.Ā 
Do you have another concussion? Is it rabies?
He sighs, quiet enough that hopefully Eddie doesnā€™t assume itā€™s aimed at him. No, Robs. Just a normal dingus-where-did-you-go zone out. Relax.
She shoots him another glare over her shoulder, but ultimately lets it go.
ā€œHarrington, you still with us?ā€ Eddie laughs it off like a joke, but his eyes are wide, and heā€™s pressing in close again.
Heā€™s warm, and without thinking, Steve finds himself leaning towards him, tooā€“ like magnets.
What magnets?
Never mind, Robs, shut up.
ā€œYeah Munson, Iā€™m still here.ā€ Steve chuckles, and Eddie relaxes a tad. ā€œCanā€™t get rid of me that easy. Iā€™ve dealt with worse.ā€
ā€œWorse than an under-water tentacle monster dragging you through hell on your bare-back and almost choking you to death?ā€
When Eddie puts it like that, Steve really does have to think about it. ā€œWhat about throwing fireworks at a giant, mind-controlling flesh monster and getting tortured under Star Court by Russian spies who shot me and Robin up with mystery drugs?ā€
DINGUS! If we havenā€™t told the Party about our super powers you canā€™t tell a goddamn stranger like Munson!
Eddieā€™s eyes are wide and dark again. He chuckles a little too loud, almost deranged. ā€œYeah, you know what, Harrington, that might be worse.ā€
They continue to walk in silence. Well, Steveā€™s silent. He lets Eddie ramble, talking about Dustin, something called a Munson doctrine. He calls Steve a ā€˜good dudeā€™ at which Steve hopes the sky is dark enough to hide his embarrassed flush.
Eddie says something about the girls jumping in to save him, but he leans in again when he says it, and all Steve can think about is how close he is, the light brush of Eddieā€™s knuckles against the back of his handā€“
Whatā€¦?
ā€“ and the comfort that settles over Steve when he catches Eddie smiling at him. They stop in unison, Eddie leans in close to whisper like itā€™s a secret.
ā€œBut Wheeler, right there, she didnā€™t waste a second. Not one second. She just dove right in.ā€
Eddieā€™s barely shorter than him, just enough that he looks up at Steve through his dark lashes, big, brown, puppy-dog eyes hooked onto his own. He knows guys can be handsome, but he thinks Eddie might be more pretty than handsome.
Iā€™m sorry? What the fuck is happening back there!
ā€œNow, I donā€™t know what happened between you two,ā€ Eddie says, low and slow. His voice full of honey that soaks into Steveā€™s brain, the actual words lost in the overwhelming sweetness of everything that is Eddie. ā€œBut if I were you, I would get her back. ā€˜Cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.ā€
Steve canā€™t stop staring at his lips. Theyā€™re so pink and fluffy and biteable, so he leans in, like instinct tells him. Eddie looks surprised, but brushes his finger tips against Steveā€™s own. He whispers, ā€œSteveā€¦?ā€ like itā€™s more revelation than question. Eddieā€™s so close that Steve justā€“
ā€œAre you fucking kidding me, Steven?ā€ Robin shouts, incredulous and much too loud. Eddie flinches away from him, hides behind his hair like a turtle shrinking back into its shell. Steveā€™s shoulders droop in disappointment.
Disappointment? Wait. Did I almost just kissā€“
ā€œEddie Munson?ā€ Robin finishes his not-out-loud sentence.
ā€œBuckley?ā€ Eddie asks, nervous as the girl marches towards them, her eyes locked on Steve.
ā€œYes, Dingus!ā€ Robin completely ignores Eddieā€™s response in favor of barreling up to Steve, finger so close to his face he goes cross-eyed. ā€œYes, you were, and oh my god I canā€™t believe you!ā€
Robs, Iā€™m kind of freaking out right now. Can you please relax?
ā€œYouā€™re freaking out?ā€ she shouts. Nancy shushes her, but it goes unnoticed. ā€œIā€™m freaking out! After all this time, after Tammy fucking Thompson, this is happening right now? Withā€“ withā€“ ā€ Robin wildly gestures to Munson. ā€œGoddamn, Steve, you reek of sunflowers right now, oh my god! Just like when Joyce came into the store.ā€
Itā€™s as dark as it always is, but a flash of red lighting illuminates the red painted across Eddieā€™s cheeks as he bites on his lip, looking nervous yet almost bashful as he pulls another larger strand of hair across his face.
ā€œSunflowers? Whatā€™s happening right now,ā€ he whispers to Nancy, who shrugs. She answers with a casual, ā€œIā€™m not sure, they do this a lot.ā€
ā€œThatā€™s not fair!ā€ Steve quietly shouts back at her. ā€œWhatā€™s wrong withā€“ā€ he glances at Eddie, who flushes again. Heā€™s so pale I bet heā€™s red down to hisā€¦
ā€œShut up, shut up, shut up!ā€ Robin throws her hands over her ears and pinches her eyes closed.
Steve forces a smile to cover his gay panic. Shit, am I gay?
ā€œNo!ā€ Robin slaps both her hands on either side of his head, mushing his cheeks together. ā€œYouā€™re not gā€“ā€ she mushes her mouth shut, catching her slip-up just before it tumbled out of her. ā€œAnd thatā€™s not what that kind of panic means, so donā€™t call it that.ā€
ā€œPanic?ā€ Eddie asks, stepping towards them. His eyes are trained on Steve, flashing down to his lips, then back up to catch his gaze. Steve sees something like hope buried beneath Eddieā€™s tough guy demeanor. ā€œBut I thoughtā€“ā€ he glances at Nancy before quickly looking away.
Robin rolls her eyes at him, and Eddie backs off a bit. Except his look doesnā€™t go unnoticed.
ā€œMe?ā€ Nancy asks. ā€œWhat about me?ā€
Robin, donā€™tā€“
But itā€™s too late, because at that question, everyone turns to look at Steve.
Over the past few months, Steveā€™s started growing out his hair. Itā€™s not really in style, but heā€™s seen a few guys with long hair, and they looked really good. Right now, he wishes it was long enough so he could hide behind it like Eddie. But, then again, heā€™d also tried growing a mustache, since Freddy Mercury had amazing styleā€“ Steveā€™s always like Queen.
Except my mustache never looked as good as his, so I bet long hair wouldnā€™t either. Maybe the short hair helps highlight it, like his cheekbones.
Jesus Christ, youā€™re so obvious. I can crack Russian spy code phrases enough to break into an underground military base but apparently I canā€™t spot a bisexual within five feet of me.
Steve sighs, dragging his hands down his face at Robinā€™s inside-mind rambling. Nancy, however, takes it to mean something much different. ā€œOh, Steve, no.ā€ Her voice is pitying and too nice and it reminds him painfully of the last few months of their relationship. Like sheā€™s talking to a child. ā€œSteve, Iā€™m so sorry, butā€“ I still love Jonathan.ā€
ā€œI know, Nance, thatā€™s notā€“ā€
ā€œAre you kidding me, Wheeler?ā€ Eddie screeches. Steve really doesnā€™t understand how theyā€™re so lucky that they havenā€™t been hunted down and eaten by now.Ā 
Eddieā€™s thrown his hands up in the air, all theatrics as he gawks at her. She backs off, surprised, but quickly recovers and squints her eyes at him, crossing her arms as he continues to ramble.Ā 
ā€œAfter everything thatā€™s happened? Steve ripping off his sweater, jumping out of the boat and beating a bat to death, then biting its head off, all while soaking wet. I mean, the way he spit that blood out.ā€ Nancy cringes, and yeah, Steve feels the same way, knows he'll be tasting that black sludge in his nightmares.Ā 
Now thatā€™s gay panic.
I thought thatā€™s not what that means, Rob
Ugh, I regret teaching you things.
Eddieā€™s still on a roll. ā€œHe was soā€¦ I mean,ā€ Eddie throws his arms out towards Steve, showing him off like heā€™s a prized cow, ā€œlook at him, Wheeler! And youā€™re picking Byers?ā€
To Steveā€™s surprise, the glowering ferocity in Nancyā€™s face morphs into a coy smile, eyebrows raised in question to an answer sheā€™s already figured out. Because thatā€™s how Nancy Wheeler, journalist extraordinaire, gets her story. She reads people.
Before Eddie well and truly freaks out at the turn in Nancyā€™s demeanor, she winks at Steve out of the corner of her eye. ā€œJoyce Byers?ā€ She giggles and rolls her eyes.Ā 
Then, in a mortifying turn of events, Nancy pulls a strand of her brown, curly hair in front of her face, forces her eyes open, doe-eyed and almost brown under the dark sky, looking up at him through her lashes, then darts her gaze to Eddie.Ā 
Ha! You have a type! Wait, how did Nancy clock you faster thanā€“
ā€œOkay!ā€ It bursts from Steveā€™s chest, loud enough it shocks the rest of them. They stand quiet, listening to the mundane noises around them, and breathe a sigh of relief at the resounding silence. ā€œThis has been fun, really, but why donā€™t we all just keep going so we can get the hell out of here and go find myā€“ I mean ourā€“ no, the little shits.ā€
This is why they call you mom.
ā€œIā€™m not a goddamn mom, Robin, how many damn times do I have to tell you guys that?ā€
ā€œIf youā€™re mommy, does that mean Iā€™m daddy?ā€ The words slip through Eddieā€™s mouth and, unfortunately, bury themselves into Steveā€™s brain. Now Steveā€™s not sure whoā€™s blush is hotter, his or Eddieā€™s. Heā€™d guess maybe Eddieā€™s, judging by the way the man grabs Nancyā€™s arm and hauls her away at a half sprint.Ā 
She laughs at him, lighthearted, and slings her arm through his as they walk side by side. Steve watches as she leans her head towards Eddieā€™s whispering something into his ear that finally has the manā€™s shoulderā€™s relaxing. He bumps his shoulder against hers, and she returns the gesture.
Robin turns to look at Steve, really look, with sad, concerned eyes and a twist to her mouth.
Iā€™m sorry. I shouldnā€™t have freaked out like that. It just caught me off guard I guess.
Steve places a light kiss on her dirty forehead. She smiles, grabs his hand in hers, and squeezes once.
ā€œI love you too, Rob.ā€
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hamoodmood Ā· 1 year ago
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odraziduse Ā· 1 month ago
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He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.
Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
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mournfulroses Ā· 3 months ago
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Velimir Khlebnikov, from The Collected Works of Velimir Khlebnikov; ā€œMountain People,ā€
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racke7 Ā· 3 months ago
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Ectoplasm and Jason Todd
Danny is wandering around Gotham (visiting, chasing a ghost, running from GIW, attending college, etc) and stumbles across Jason.
Jason who is flaring his ecto-signature like a madman (is he trying to get into trouble?).
Danny drags the guy into a nearby alley to give the guy some kind of crash-course on how not to do that.
Jason isn't sure why this guy grabbed him and dragged him into an alley, but if it's a fight he wants, Jason would be able to fight more freely in an alley, so he doesn't struggle. (Does he know that Jason is Red Hood? Does he think that Jason is a random civilian? Is it just him, or does this guy have really cold hands?)
Jason isn't sure why this guy is now trying to... ask him to meditate? The fuck is going on? But if it's not a fight, then... maybe it's fine to just listen to the weirdo? Taking a few deep breaths isn't going to hurt him.
Danny is very proud of himself for guiding the ecto-flaring guy through how to not flare his ecto-signature. He's such a good teacher.
And then Jason collapses.
Turns out, Jason has been using his anger to create a feedback-loop that artificially raises his ectoplasm-levels.
Ghosts need ectoplasm to live, but they'll also produce ectoplasm when feeling strong emotions. For most ghosts, this a bit like saying "everyone needs a good cry every now and then". For Jason, he's been basically aiming a gun at his own face for the adrenaline-rush. Constantly.
So, Danny is now holding onto a barely-conscious person who desperately needs more ectoplasm. As in, this is a medical emergency, and every second probably counts.
Danny, being that he wasn't planning on needing to carry around some kind of ectoplasm-container at all times (who the fuck does that? His parents, that's who), is now desperately trying to problem-solve this.
Danny realizes that, actually, even in his human form? Danny has a lot of ectoplasm in his body. Enough that he could probably save this guy by... feeding him his blood.
Cue intimately sexy reverse-vampire scene.
And oh boy, if Danny's blood doesn't taste fantastic to Jason's ecto-starved self.
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eloquenthubak1982 Ā· 6 months ago
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Russian Literature
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plausible-fabulist Ā· 4 months ago
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So... have I mentioned I'm about to release a 450,000-word Jewish historical fantasy interactive fiction game? Here's an interview I did with my publisher, Choice of Games, about it.
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skoff-the-artist Ā· 1 year ago
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And the world kept turning
He was lying on his back looking at the sky. Grey clouds drifted somewhere beyond the horizon, their edges murky and pulsing in time with the blue blood that flowed away from him. He could feel the snow on his neck, caught by the collar of his jacket as he fell, powerless, to the ground covered with a thin layer of white. The snow had already begun to melt, sticking his silver hair into strands and sending almost imperceptible blue waves across his exosuit. The warmth was leaving him.
One by one he turned off the danger alerts, turned off the beacon. Turned off the comms. The red spots of warnings in front of his eyes disappeared, grayness flooded his entire field of vision. Slowly he took his hand away from his pierced side, letting it fall beside him. The bleeding was easing.
Something small and cold touched his cheek. He closed his eyes for a second and didn't open them for a minute.
Two minutes.
Then he looked up.
Snowflakes were slowly falling from the sky.
There was no one around. Just the sky, the snow, and him, soon to be just as cold. It did not bother him.
Snowflakes had already stuck to his eyelashes, small drops were running down his face, tangled in the fur on his jacket. He couldn't see it, but the snow beneath him had turned blue. Warm. Cerulean streaks widened, penetrating deeper into the ground, small rivers stubbornly making their way between the transparent crystals. Running away from him.
A crack passed through his face with a quiet crunch. It didn't hurt anymore - his whole body was numb, unable to sustain life any longer. He accepted it, lazily watching the clouds as they began to blur. Something other than melt water ran down his cheeks.
He was alone
He didn't care.
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