shots shots shots shots everybody

warhammers, shields, arrows, swords...what century is this?? have you not heard of guns??

Murder on the Orient Express: Nov. 3, 2017 Everyone Is A Suspect

So, they got him after all. You assume he was killed? No, no. He—well, he was in perfectly good health; he had his enemies. Indeed, he was murdered. Good, God! A murder, here? God rest his soul. If there was a murder—what is going on?—then there is a murderer. The murderer is with us. And everyone of you are suspects.

thinking about garrus and shepard in me1, talking late at night over weapon-cleanings or mako repairs when shepard can’t sleep. garrus, the idealistic rookie who wants nothing more than to protect, and shepard, the closest thing to a guiding light he’s stumbled upon

thinking about garrus and shepard in me2, finding companionship in one another after their individual struggles. garrus, weighed down by the lives of the people who trusted him, and shepard, still lost and out-of-place in a world that kept going without her

thinking about garrus and shepard in me3, seeking each other out in moments of solace when the war seems bleak and never-ending. shepard, who keeps pushing herself to do the impossible, and garrus, who just wants to be the light that guides her back home

A New Boy

Request: angst anon here!! i would love a yule ball imagine (although its a rare occasion) where the reader turns down all the “popular guys” for newt, but he ends up having a ball (hah) with leta instead? and she like ends up going with a popular guy and dances with him and actually has fun and newt is lowkey hurt?? hopefully that made sense haha. please and thank you 💗 btw i saw the tag on “i do… not” and you are just the sweetest little thing!! i will never stop giving you these random ideas 😊

Word Count: 6,887

Pairing: Reader x OC, Newt x Leta

Requested by: @aurrorgoldstein

Tag List: @dont-give-a-bother @red-roses-and-stories @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly–canthrope @studyforthreehands @whatinbenaddiction @benniesgalaxy @thosefantasticbeast2

WARNING: Language

I know the world seems cold and empty, but I promise you, if you search for the light, you will one day find it.

The corridors of Hogwarts are empty, chilly, a quick breeze somehow bursting through them. A ghost, you figure, digging your nails into your palm and praying they leave you alone. On a night like this, with such a mission in your head, you do not want to be bothered.

Night is quickly dropping her blanket over the sky outside, and most students have already scurried to bed, their voices whispering of the night upcoming, of the dance, the ball, the evening you’re dreading. With quick steps, you find yourself climbing to the Gryffindor common room, muttering the password, and clambering through.

It’s hot inside, the fireplace roaring up with a loud orchestra of clicks and pops and even a few snaps. Few students linger, but the ones that do, that are also dateless for the ball tomorrow, are draped over the maroon couches and royal red chairs, heads popping up to view your intrusion.

“Sorry,” you murmur, cheeks heating up, “but has anyone seen Michael Rodgers?”

One boy, a fifth year you recognize vaguely from classes, lazily raises his head and eyes you once over. “You’re here to talk to him?”

“I don’t see why I would ask for him otherwise.” The words earn a snicker from the others in the room, who drop their heads but leave their ears pointing in your direction.

“I suppose,” the boy sighs, shoving himself to his feet, “I could go see if he’s up, but no promises.”

You nod, biting your cheek. That’s all you can ask for, someone to check.

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My players were fighting a group of monsters in a dungeon, and the half-elf wizard NPC (very squishy) ended up dropping to critical health.

Me, voicing the NPC: “Uh, give me a hot minute, I gotta…”
Me (OoC): “He takes a shot of a healing potion.”
Half-elf druid player (OoC): “Did you just say he took a shot of a healing potion?”
Me (OoC): “Yeah, he-”
All 4 players, in unison: “Shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, EVERYBODY!”

here is a Really Good Pro Art Tip: if you don’t know what to draw for the background just put some polka dots it usually works


Request: Can you write Newt Scamander × reader where he thinks that she is cheating on him but she isn’t? Please make it angsty💞💞Thanks

Word Count: 2,451

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous but also tagging @dont-give-a-bother @red-roses-and-stories @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly–canthrope @studyforthreehands @benniesgalaxy @whatinbenaddiction

Special thanks to @blackholeunderyourbed for talking through ideas with me

Newt flips the newspaper to the next page with a flick of his wrist, mind wandering from the headlines about marketplace prices and soaring numbers of vehicle purchases, gaze drifting to the wall awash in warm streams of flickering golds and ambers. The fireplace next to him hisses and pops, warming his right side, filling the room with the comforting smell of burning wood as normal New York murmurs dance up and in through the open window nearby.

An ache develops in his hip, the consequence of sitting in the same position for two hours, so Newt shifts, eliciting a soft groan from the worn armchair he’s chosen as a nest for the night. His eyes droop shut, but he forces them back open, glancing at the front door again, waiting for it to creak open, waiting for it to allow you in. When the door remains firmly closed, Newt lets out a soft sigh and folds the newspaper in half, setting it on his lap and settling himself in to wait for you. There’s no point in bothering to read news he has no interest in.

A half hour later, long after the moon finished her slow crawl into the sky, you stumble through the door, huge smile spilling across your features, wrinkling the skin around your eyes and crinkling your nose and for a moment, Newt’s heart melts. Merlin, he loves that grin.

But when you spot him, it fades, and Newt’s own chest drops. “Hey, Newt, what are you doing up?” You reach down casually to pluck off a shoe. “You didn’t need to stay up for me.”

Newt watches you, examines you, eyes running down the side of your neck, searching for any marks as he murmurs. “It’s quite all right, love. I wouldn’t want you to be in any trouble without me.”

You pull off your other shoe and toss it aside. “I’m not nearly as fragile as you think I am.”

It’s teasing, Newt knows, but he also knows you’re not fragile because even when you’re out at the bar, you have Peter at your side. “Of course you aren’t.” His smile’s thin and he knows it.

You notice the tension, the way his gaze doesn’t quite manage to meet yours. “Something wrong?” You ask as you pad across the thick carpeting to him.

There’s so much he wants to say, but he stuffs it under the dam of his tongue. It’s late, and neither of you need the stress of a fight when you’re traveling in the morning.

He reaches forward, grabbing your thighs gently when you approach. “Just glad you made it home safe, love. I missed you.”

You lean down and peck his forehead. “I missed you too, sweetheart. Ready for bed?”

Newt swallows his guilt as a wave of cologne washes over him, emanating from your shoulder. So you had been near Peter. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to stay up a little later.”

Your confusion messes up your features, but then you shrug. “Suit yourself. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“In the morning.” He nods, allowing you to kiss his cheek again before you disappear into the bedroom and shut the door with a soft click.

Newt shuts his eyes and leans his head onto the back of the seat. So it’s true, his suspicions. You smelled of Peter’s cologne, and your grin had been big enough to fill the room. The fire continues to crackle at his side as he runs the past week through his head like a movie reel.

Three nights you’d been out with Peter until long past when any sensible person is, and you’d positively glowed when he’d asked about the man’s personality. Newt’s stomach turns as he allows what he knows to be the truth settle over his thoughts, blanket his heart, seep into his mind and poison two years of this relationship: you’re in love with Peter, and there’s nothing Newt can do to stop you from leaving him, not when you’re already spending time closer to Peter than you should.

Newt cusses quietly to himself, a sound that’s lost to the violence of the fire burning and the crack of his heart shattering. How he’ll get through this, he doesn’t know. He clenches his jaw and lets the exhaustion plaguing him for the past two hours wash over him and tug him into a sleep filled with nightmares that are far more pleasant than his new reality.

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if Roshar college parties were a thing and Adolin were allowed to go u kno he’d be one of the first ones smashed but he’d be so cheerful and enthusiastic that nobody would be mad it’d be fun

Worst Nightmare

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could request a newtxreader where they are traveling for his book and the reader encounters a boggart? And the boggart is of Newt dying/severely injured/leaving her, etc.? And then he takes care of the boggart and comforts the reader? Really angsty but then all fluff? Thank you so much!!<3   AND   Hi i love your writing and was wondering if you could do a Newt x reader where they’re both in the case and newt is in his workshop and his boggart gets loose while the reader is in the fields and readers worst fear is newt being tortured so she cant use the riddikulus charm and then newt comes and sees her worst fear and then captures the boggart again and comforts her (lots of fluff please) :))) (sorry if its long)

Word Count: 1,423

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous but tagging @red-roses-and-stories @dont-give-a-bother @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly–canthrope @benniesgalaxy @whatinbenaddiction @studyforthreehands @thosefantasticbeast2

The first scream comes from behind you.

The diricawls at your feet freeze. Their food, forgotten. Their hunger, ignored. Each and every one of their eyes is focused on the grove of trees behind you, a miniature forest Newt grew to give the bowtruckles more space to live. Yet as you turn to peer into the shadows of the trees, not a single bowtruckle is present.

Unsettled, you turn back to the diricawls and throw more seeds on the dirt, hoping to break them of their trance. A few blink when seeds bounce off their neck and beaks, but none turn from the forest.

The second scream terrifies you. It’s not quite human, but not quite beast; a weird combination that turns into a moaning howl halfway through its long serenade. The diricawls disappear in small pops, vanishing before your eyes. Hands shaking, you slowly crouch and lift your wand from where you placed it in the dirt.

The third scream, the worst one, sends you into motion. It’s loud, carrying over the treetops, breaking from the shadows, a noise that would horrify even the most experienced of aurors. What’s worst, though, what sends you into a dead sprint, heart slamming against your ribs, terror pulsing with every fast heartbeat, is the familiarity of the voice.

“Newt.” You try to shout, but your voice is just a whisper, strangled by the fear that has taken a hold on your movements. You’re slow, think you may very well be running through honey as you force your feet forward. Your hands are shaking, your legs are wobbling, but Newt screams again. It tapers off into loud sobs, wails, and a few curses.

“Newt!” You shriek successfully this time as you reach the grove. You trip over a root, hardly noticing the lack of bowtruckles on the trees as you stumble into the shadows, eyes anxiously scanning the area. You turn into stone at the sight. Every limb freezes, you can’t even think about moving as you process what’s happening.

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Everybody Needs Good Neighbors - Chapter Six.

Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader.
Warnings: Dean being adorable, Readers mother is a kind of a bitch, Childbirth (nothing too detailed).
Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Sorry it’s so short, there only one chapter left after this!
Previous chapters can be found here.

At 5 months pregnant you thought you’d be showing a little more by now, your doctor did tell you as a bigger woman your baby bump wouldn’t be as noticeable until further along but you still hoped you would have a bigger bump than you did, it more looked like you had a big lunch.

Dean, of course was being adorable, he loved your growing belly, he felt your little baby kick for the first time only a few weeks ago and he talked about it for days.
You both opted not to find out the sex and wait to be surprised when the baby was born, that didn’t stop either of you betting and exchanging banter over who would be right, Dean was set on a baby girl but you said that you just knew it was a boy “mother’s intuition” you said.

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Request: Hello! I simply adore your imagines. Could you do a NewtxReader where the reader has severe anxiety but Newt doesn’t know until he finds her in the middle of a panic attack. And he calms her down and loads of fluffy moments. (Ps. I love your angst imagines. They make my heart ache, which apparently I like. Who knew?)

Word Count: 1,325

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by @aceandawkward but also tagging @red-roses-and-stories @dont-give-a-bother @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly–canthrope @thosefantasticbeast2 @benniesgalaxy @whatinbenaddiction

The world works in facts, standards. X + Y = Z. Multiply 5 by itself and you’ll earn 25, no matter the circumstances. Throw something solid in the air and it will come back down regardless of its weight.

It’s comforting, this certainty, to know that if X happens, Y will follow without fault.

You wish as you sink to your knees that humans worked the same way. That every situation resulted in only one outcome, one feeling. You know it’s impossible – emotions are messy – yet as you land on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, your last coherent thought is about how nice it would have been to know that watching seven strangers and three friends walk in that door would be the terror’s invitation, that only minutes later some unseen antagonist would waltz on up from its nest in your gut and take over everything.

You lie down, the cool tiles a welcome break from the sweat beading up on your face, ordering yourself to breathe.



Merlin’s sake, just breathe.

A knock at the locked door interrupts you. “Love, did you want me to put the chicken in the oven now or in a few minutes?”


You suck in air and muster the last of your strength. “Now.” A lie. It’s not supposed to cook for ten more minutes, but saying that takes far more breath than you can draw in.

“At 425?”

You drop your head onto the ground, gulping in breaths as the world spins around you, a whirling mess. “Yes.” The word’s quiet, little more than a whisper, as you shut your eyes.

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knekkebrod  asked:

I'm in the process of reading through your fics on AO3, but I had to stop by and tell you how much I love the Eternal Rivals 2-fic. I had the biggest grin on my face after reading it, the idea of Sakura and Lee taking after their senseis and becoming rivals is the best thing ever.

Ok just cuz you’re cool and I like you (and I like being told people like my fic) I’m gonna pound out another ficlet in Eternal Rivals 2: Electric Boogaloo.

“My beautiful rival! Happy birthday!”

Sakura sighed and forced a smile. Dammit, she had been hoping to go home after a long shift and invite the girls over for chocolate cake and sappy movies. “Hello Lee. Thank you.”

“You are now in full bloom at last as an adult! A momentous day for you!”

Sakura blinked. “Lee, legally I’ve been an adult since we became genin.”

“How right you are, Sakura-san!”

“And I first killed a man when I was sixteen.”

“And a breathtaking display it was, I’m sure!”

“And I also punched a goddess in the back of the head.”

Lee pressed his hands together rapturously. “Yes! That is my rival alright! That legendary right hook!”

“And I’ve run the hospital for two years now, not to mention that I’ve founded a mental health program? So what is such a big deal about turning twenty?”

Without noticing it, she had fallen into step with Lee, and he clasped a green spandex covered arm around her shoulders. “Oh Sakura-san! Only that I must treat you to your first drink, of course!”

“…my first drink?”

Inexorably they turned into an izakaya, Sakura looking with trepidation at the many, many, many breakable objects. “Quite! And it being your birthday, my lovely rival, it behooves me to pay for as many shots as you can stomach!” He chuckled. “Of course, I can’t imagine it will be that many, so you need not worry about my wallet.”

Sakura’s eyes sparkled. “Alright. But would you excuse me a minute? I need to use the ladies’ room.”


“Shots, shots, shots, shots! Woooooo!” shouted Kiba.

“I’m—I’m not paying for him,” hiccuped Lee. “If he drinks—not on my tab, you got that?”

“I think you are addressing the wrong person,” Shino said as he sipped his mead. “Why? Because I do not control the billing of this establishment.”

“Another bottle!” laughed Sakura. “The good stuff!”

At a nearby table, Guy frowned. “I am not sure if I approve of this kind of challenge. Encouraging a young lady to intoxicate herself is decidedly unhip.”

“We did it once,” said Kakashi, sipping his whiskey.

“We did? What happened? I don’t remember that.”

Kakashi chuckled. “I’m not surprised. We were both banned from any establishment serving liquor for two years.”

“Oh, was that why we stopped going to the bar?” Guy tapped his upper lip thoughtfully. “I really can’t remember!”

Across the village, Sakura, Ino, Hinata, Tenten, and Shizune tucked into a deluxe chocolate cake with enthusiasm.

“—so I called shishou from the bathroom and said if she could adjust her appearance jutsu to look like me, I could get her all-you-can-drink!”