karaim
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Summary
Zanka is tasked with keeping Jabber from running too wild in his new position with the cleaners. Jabber is a ball of excess manic energy. Daily fights are a little unsustainable when there are trash beasts to be defeated on a moment’s notice.
And since their relationship has been evolving, it's a no brainer. Jabber is a masochist. Zanka has a dominant streak. Easy peasy. It shouldn’t be too different from all the times before.
Except, as usual, Zanka is a fucking wild card. Sex never felt hazy or vulnerable like this with any of the strangers that make up Jabber’s sexual history. Jabber is used to pain, but treated with roughness and care in equal measure is new and very disarming.
- Language:
- English
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- 54,056
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- 20/?
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Bookmarked by karaim
13 Apr 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
ch 20
CH 6: SHES MY COLLAR
CH 15:
The window next to them is slammed open, glass pulled down by a set of thick gloves.“What are you doing here?” Rudo hisses.
“Huhhh? We’re also on a date. Do you own this cafe?” Zanka drawls, delighting in messing with Rudo.
“It’s not a date! It’s a hangout! We’re hanging out!”
“Jabber, look! Amo bought dangly earrings!” Amo says, undeterred by their arrival.
Jabber claps, while she shows them off.
“More importantly, did you buy out all the sweets? What if I wanted cheesecake?” Zanka continues.
“Then go somewhere else! Amo wanted to try the menu!”
The waitress returns with their drinks. Their choices look very adult next to the dessert-laden table on the other side of the window.
“Hmmm, but now that I’m here, I feel like you need a chaperone?”
Rudo is rendered silent by anger.
“Amo, look! Zanka bought me a plant!” Jabber says.
“Cute!”
She claps for the plant like he did for her earrings.
Rudo slams the window shut. Zanka snickers. After a few sips of his tea, he knocks on the window.
Amo pulls it back down and says, “Hello!”
--
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When Harry finds Tom Riddle's diary he does not write 'Hello.' He does not write anything at all. He draws. Tom Riddle falls in love with the artwork.
_________________Sketch by sketch, drawing by drawing, the ink Harry pours into the diary manifests as creations in Tom's monochrome world.
Series
- Part 1 of Soul-Stained Masterpieces
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 191,530
- Chapters:
- 39/39
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- 206
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- 9,875
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Bookmarked by karaim
18 May 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
genuinely such a beautiful work that brings tears to my eyes with how emotional its words and descriptions are. ch 16 is about petunia learning to love and regret and it made me cry the entire chapter. ch 38 is about freds funeral is the pov of george and it hurts reading him turn to tell a joke to fred only for fred to no longer be there. this fic is heartbreakingly impactful.
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When Seamus comes into the room he’s greeted by the site of the three of them cuddling on the bed.
“Is this polyamory?” He asks semi-seriously.
Ron shakes his head. “Platonic love.”
Dean pokes his head in. “Oh, hey ‘Mione.”
“Hey, Dean.”
Neville wanders in and looks at the group. “Can I join?” He asks shyly.
Harry holds out his arms. “Get in here, Nev.”Ron says, “See, Harry? We’ll all give you hugs.”
Seamus groans. “Speak for yourself. I certainly won’t.”
--
Fred and George were always a unit. The longest they were ever apart was the five minutes between Fred being sorted and George being sorted. In those five minutes. Fred sat on the stool and George watched his brother intently, fearing they’d be separated. Those were the scariest five minutes of their lives.
Five minutes later, George walked to the Gryffindor table and Fred slid over with a wink. “ I was keeping this seat warm for you.”
That was the longest they’d ever been apart until Fred...passed on. George wants his whole family to talk about everything they miss with him but whenever he tries to talk about Fred, they all stop saying anything and only listen.
On the day of the funeral, George finds himself next to a sniffling Ginny. When she sees him next to her, she makes a terrible face and tries to swallow all her tears. She angrily wipes her eyes. “Sorry. Sorry. I know this must be – so much harder for you.”
George grits his teeth. He has barely spoken for the last week. But he needs to speak now. He’s not the only person grieving. George’s voice comes out as a quiet croak. “I knew him better than you, Gin. That doesn’t mean – that doesn’t mean you loved him any less than I did.”
She slips her hand into his as they watch Fred be lowered into the ground. Ron is sobbing into Harry’s shirt and Harry has trained his eyes to the sky. “No,” she agrees quietly, “I guess that's true.”--
Sometimes George dreams of Fred. He can never remember the dreams in the morning, but he always feel warmer and better rested on those nights. All he has are flashes of red and a crooked-half grin.
Sometimes, he thinks he hears Fred saying, “Take all the time you need. I’ll be up here, keeping your seat warm.” -
From the Past Comes Our Answers by Wandering_Fujoshi
Fandoms: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
07 May 2026
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Skull is a loud-mouthed, annoying, lackey civilian. A coward and a brat. The greatest stuntmen, clad in exaggerated makeup and a purple motorcycle suit, baring his arrogant smirk. The weakest amongst them all. Yet still, a centrepiece connected to their souls. They knew their lackey, their cloud, better than anyone else.
So then... who was this?
This green-eyed, black-haired boy staring at them alertedly, a look full of hauntings. The dark maturity oozing off of his gaze. Standing there in a tense stance, shirtless (an odd pouch hanging from his neck), injured (blood seeping through the carelessly wrapped gauze). A sword in his hands pointing straight towards them.
----
Harry-Is-Skull Fanfic
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 75,021
- Chapters:
- 15/?
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- 10
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- 933
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- 2,182
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Bookmarked by karaim
01 Sep 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
15 SO PEAK THE PLOT THICKENS
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Reborn moved then, surging upward with a grace that shouldn't be possible from a lying position. His hands moved fast, and suddenly, Harry’s wrists were pinned down by Reborn. He hovered over Harry, trapping him against the grass. The gun remained perfectly levelled at Harry's head.
“It means you wait for something to happen before you act. That makes you predictable. You didn’t check your surroundings after I arrived. You didn’t even bother to test my position. These are all fatal mistakes.”
Each point landed like a meticulously aimed dagger on the bullseye. Measured and analyzed. Hitting every nail.
Reborn’s eyes sharpened, pinning Harry down. “You relaxed. And in my world, that’s a death sentence.”
“…So what?” Harry stared up at him with narrowed eyes, Reborn’s form still blocking the sun rays from coming into his eyes. “I’m supposed to be on edge all the time?”
“No, Fiammella.” His voice was a low drawl against Harry’s ear. The nozzle of the gun pressed in closer as Reborn leaned down. “You’re supposed to be in control. Take it in your hands and manipulate the scene before shit hits the fan. Use anything and everything around you at your disposal from the moment you come into a situation. That is how an adept Hitman acts.”
“I’m not a hitman.”
“No. But you will be.”
“I won’t!” He tried to struggle against Reborn’s hold on his wrists.
“It’s cute you think you have a choice, lackey.” Reborn grazed the nozzle of the gun down Harry’s cheek, dragging it across his bottom lip until it caught, pulling the skin down.
Harry’s eyes were wide, staring up at Reborn, his cheeks flushed with heat. His hair was in disarray, spread around the grass and over his cheek. Reborn watched him darkly as he dragged his gun down, pulling at Harry’s bottom lip, a string of saliva catching as he pushed the gun up against the underside of his jaw.
“Now let go of that stick.” Reborn glanced at Harry’s hand, still gripping the wand aimed downward toward Reborn. He recognized that stick. “It’s too delicate for our next play.”
His voice, low against Harry’s ear. Tendrils of Sun flames caressed Harry’s cheek, healing over the scabbed cut from Lal’s sparring session. It just fed more into the redness of his cheeks.
“Bam.” He whispered.
He mocked the trigger pull, the click echoing in Harry's ears, before he pulled away and stood up. He didn't look back as he walked toward the manor.
Harry stayed there, speechless, his heart racing so fast it felt like it would burst. He couldn't move. He just lay there, the "Bam" echoing in his mind over and over.
Yet Reborn’s finger never touched the trigger of his gun once.
A black fedora with an orange ribbon sat over Harry’s eyes to shield him from the sun he no longer felt.
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Zanka may not go to this school, but that’s never stopped people from inviting him to frat parties. They’re fun enough; free alcohol, hot guys, friendly people, music loud enough to forget everything, and just a touch of crazy.
There’s only one problem: a pain in the ass by the name of Jabber Wonger, who he just can’t seem to stay away from.
Series
- Part 1 of Place Your Bets
Bookmarked by karaim
09 Apr 2026
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Summary
Hard work beats genius. Zanka is gonna tattoo that onto the sorry fuckin' hide of everyone who's ever doubted him, and he's gonna start with Jabber fuckin' Wonger. He's gonna prove he's nothing like that guy, or his shithead family.
(The rush he feels at the sight of blood, at the sweet sound of agony, doesn't mean a thing.)