For a moment Harry started, surprised at the first sign of any sort of non-muggle presence in this world. Just what exactly was a 'Blutbad' - or a Grimm for that matter? Collection of related drabbles/snapshots centered around Harry, Monroe, Nick and Renard.
The one in which Gandalf is nowhere to be found, Bilbo spends more time talking to a Ranger than eating his dinner, Aragorn has to deal with a secretive hobbit and Elladan wishes fervently that his twin and Lord Glorfindel, and, while he's at it, an army of elves was by his side.
Magic, wonderful, strange and unpredictable magic took note of him and instead of doing the logical thing, acknowledging what he is, carving out a place between all the other wondrous creatures in this world – magic lifted him up instead. And left him somewhere else.
He was done playing the hero, now he was just a regular selfish bloke who helped out with the little things where he could, but who left the big problems of this world to someone else. Because this wasn't his world and it was someone else's problem. Harry's problem, at the moment, consisted of the suddenly very alive and awake man and his squished strawberry plot.
In the sealed scroll he finds a Bingo Book – his own page marking him as an S-class nukenin with flee-on-sight orders. "Ok. That is definitely different." Dimensional Travel. One-shot.
A collection of shorts, plotbunnies and vignettes. Because my list of one-chaptered stories is becoming quite long, and the list of ideas and unfinished and abandoned bits and pieces on my pc even longer. So far, this contains stories in the Harry Potter and Naruto fandoms.
Kakashi wanted to grab those little brats and wrap them all up in blankets, dump them somewhere soft and fluffy and summon his dogs to guard them and sit on them and keep them there. Then he could relax, read his book and listen to the most creative curses and rants his cute little students could come up with. Vignette. Because Wave should have been enough of a wake-up call.
At first he had always thought that it was normal – that everyone could see what he saw. Eyes were windows to the soul, he had heard someone say, and he knew that that was true. But it had been distracting, seeing the truth shining through so clearly.