Sturdy_ostrich
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“If this has all been a sick joke,” Jean says, “you have reached new heights of abusive, and I want you to start paying for my therapy, you psychopath.”
“I don’t have any money,” Harry says. “I have ten reál and twenty-two… ah… smaller reál."
“Centims,” Jean mutters.
Series
- Part 1 of un jour je serai de retour
Bookmarked by Sturdy_ostrich
22 Jul 2026
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She regards you, long and cool. Presses her thumb to your closed, chapped lips. "If you asked me to come into your room again, I'd say yes." She stands on tiptoes so she can brush her lips against the other side of her thumb. You feel her breath, hot against your mouth, and you shiver. "Please don't ask me."
You nod, and the movement presses your lips a fraction closer. "Okay."
"Okay," she echoes.In which Jean and Judit attempt to avoid the inevitable.
Bookmarked by Sturdy_ostrich
19 Jul 2026
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Pope holds out his hand to her. In his palm is a bolt, stainless steel, hexagonal head. Anodized a warm, dark brown, made to match the safe it was attached to.
She takes it and turns it over, brow furrowed. "What is this?"
"A bolt."
"I can— I can see that much. Why are you giving me a bolt?"
He likes how it looks in her hand. "It’s the same color as your eyes."
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Pope Cody likes Samira Mohan very much and is going to do some breaking and entering about it.
Bookmarked by Sturdy_ostrich
11 Jul 2026
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Their paths always cross. It's like fate. Like ribbons, woven in and out. A pattern network of strings: pull on one too hard and the rest all collapse to nothing.
At least, that's what Selina Kyle thinks about, when she thinks about the shadow haunting Gotham.
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Bookmarked by Sturdy_ostrich
06 Jul 2026
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Is it a god inside you, girl? by get-shiggy-with-it (HQK)
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
31 Aug 2021
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The deer were only a mild sort of annoyance for the better part of your first summer alone in the cabin.
That was, until it showed up on the other side of the fence line.
The thing that was so clearly not a deer, but looked like one and never crossed the property borders mother had marked with little mason jars buried under the boundaries of the yard, stared at you with eyes redder than freshly spilled blood or the moon on harvest nights. You knew from the moment you saw the creature that it was not what it seemed to be, that it was one of the old things mother had spoken of before her passing. Older than the hills themselves and imbued in its very existence with the power of the Green.
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Or, there are things that hide in the trees. Older than the sky, or the soil, or the hills. And they are waking.
Bookmarked by Sturdy_ostrich
22 Dec 2025