Moraks_x
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Summary
In the wake of their recent failures, the Hero Association must find a way to boost the public's opinion or lose all future support and donations. Amai Mask decides to make use of Madame Shibabawa's apprentice, who possesses the power to absorb and project a person's most important memories, in a massive publicity stunt that will surely remind everyone how incredible and beautiful their heroes are.
Saitama is so done with this shit.
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Ему 26 лет. В него попадает пуля, и Доктор ему помогает.
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i'll love you to ruination by starsneverlanding for midnighter777, 1mb
Fandoms: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game)
23 May 2026
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"That is a reward you have not yet earned," Pantalone says sternly.
"Is being stabbed not punishment enough?" Dottore retorts through heavy breaths.
"Do not act as though you did not enjoy it."
Dottore grins, his head falling back against the headboard, his eyes turning up towards the ceiling. "You needn't press so forcefully. You might reopen my wound."
"Would that teach you a lesson?" Pantalone pushes again, and Dottore chuckles through the sear that ripples through him.
"What do you think?"
//or, dottore gets stabbed and pantalone maybe loses his composure, just a little bit
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There was a girl back in the Akademiya. Odd, that she was so integral to his expulsion, and yet Zandik could not remember her name. He barely remembered her face. He remembered what she looked like when he cut her open at the picnic – the horror so fleeting, how her mouth slanted and froze there, like it intended to slide off her face. She’d thought he was handsome and interesting. He hadn’t cared if she thought he was the ugliest creature Irimsul ever recorded, truthfully. He just wanted to know what it looked like to see someone’s insides, how long it took for them to cool from the unyielding grip of death.
He cared if this stranger thought he was handsome.
“Do you trust me, Veksel?” He asked at last.
And Feofan smiled at him, glitter in those spellbinding eyes. “Not even slightly.”
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Zandik is not certain he loves. But he is certain he knows what he wants -- and what all versions of him have in common.
Series
- Part 1 of Cigarette Smoke and The Nature of Love
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These two have stolen my every thought and spot as favorite ship. I have always liked them but now I am obsessed. As for the name of his fic: mehr (also spelled mahr) is an Islamic concept, it is a mandatory gift or payment from the groom to the bride specified in the marriage contract, and it belongs entirely and irrevocably to her. It is a religious and legal requirement in Islamic marriage. it is practiced in Arab, Persian, South Asian, and Central Asian Muslim communities.
Rated E. You've been warned.
"How long," Feofan said.
"Two hundred and seventeen years," Zandik said. "Give or take."
Feofan looked at the henna book, open on the table. At the ribbon marking a specific page.
"And the pattern," he said.
"One hundred and forty."
Feofan closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids the room glowed amber. The smoke from the hookah moved through the warm air and settled around him like something that had been waiting a very long time to do exactly this.
"You are," he said, very carefully, "the most deranged man who has ever lived."
"Yes," Zandik said.