Summary: Dan has a bladder condition and it takes an intervention from Phil to get him to the toilet in time. An unexpected boner leads to some… watersports.
Warnings: smut, omorashi/watersports, swearing
Word count: 1745
A/N: So this is long for an afternoon’s work - totally didn’t plan this in maths class. For some reason I’ve wanted to write an omorashi fic for a while, but I get if it’s not for you. Anyway, happy reading!
Dan had been shifting in his seat for the last five minutes and I could say for sure it was because he needed to pee. I watched as he crossed one leg over the other and adjusted his position in the chair. Having a long term bladder problem, he had to go the toilet a lot more frequently than most people. I’d been with him all morning and I knew for a fact he hadn’t been. In the usual routine, he would have a visit at break, but we’d been called to an impromptu meeting about an upcoming school trip.
Now we were sitting in third period, it had been fifteen minutes since the end of interval. Our usual teacher was off ill and so we had a supply from another school. This particular supply teacher had introduced himself as Mr Brown, and no offence to Browns but he was as boring as the name would suggest. He had short grey hair and was wearing a shirt and waistcoat that certainly did not go together. He would shush us if the noise level got above that of a pin dropping and had already refused one girl’s request to go to the toilet. I could guess Dan was nervous about asking; all the regular teachers knew of his condition and had been instructed to let him out to the toilet but it was unlikely Mr Brown knew.
Prompt: The pool of acid was boiling. That wasn't the concerning part; the pool of acid was supposed to be boiling. What was more concerning was the fact that the pool of acid was on the ceiling, far from any heat source.
“It’s a class five,” the man in Agatha’s living room says. He’s wearing a biohazard suit pulled down to his waist where the arms are tied to keep it from sliding down past his rubber boots. Under the suit he’s wearing a dress shirt and tie, both in an off-putting shade of green. He doesn’t look up when he speaks, instead staring at the pool on her ceiling and then to his clipboard.
Agatha looks from the man to the bubbling mass on her ceiling and does not remember inviting either in.
“‘Course with new department regulations, that doesn’t mean much,” the man continues. He jots another note on his clipboard and sighs noisily. “Class five wouldn’t even touch an old level two, if you ask me. You don’t need to worry, ma'am, I can have this cleaned up by sundown.” He frowns darkly at his clipboard. “If it’s not finished by then, there is an emergency number you’ll have to call.”
“I see,” Agatha says, stepping cautiously into her living room. The edge of the pool bubbles alarmingly above her but not a drop of the hissing acid falls far enough to touch her. “I don’t think the emergency number will be necessary, mister…?”
“Brown,” the man says. He finally turns to look at her, tucking the clipboard under his arm. “And I assure you it is entirely necessary. Why, just last week we had a class three turn into a class seven! It’s the ley lines… something about the moon…”
“You misunderstand,” Agatha says. “I don’t mean that emergency services are unnecessary. I mean to say the number is because it connects to my phone.” She pulls a small red cell phone from her pocket and dangles it from two fingers.
Mr. Brown stares at her. “Ah.”
Agatha allows some of the rage to break through her poker face. “This, of course, could have been avoided if you had waited for an official request.”
kylie jenner’s plucked and tucked new lips are a fashion trend, where my “trendy” lips are far too big to fit in.
iggy azealia’s big butt is so fancy, while nicki minaj’s or my own is so disgusting white people dont wanna be next to me
chanel’s tie cap is trendy and urban, but it’s almost a sin when a du rag is worn by my black men (god forbid a man in a turban)
kylie’s dread extensions are “edgy” and “fun,” but a real rasta man with free formed locs is nasty and they must stink for his are not done to society’s preference
vanessa hudgens (and countless white women of america) wear bindis for fashion statements, but when you see young indian woman with hers, you flash back to 9/11, clutch on to your child in fear that you’ll be assassinated
you want to be like us: you dress like us, talk like us, then make fun of us because we are us.when for centuries we have tried to look like you
you took us from our nation, faced with manipulation while they traded us from station to station
you’ve taken everything from us, from our families to our style..
while at the same time punishing us for laughing just a little bit too loud
we straightened our hair - for your approval and acceptance -
relaxers, burning kitchens, tidied kitchens, skulls swollen from the hot comb, burns on our fingers, blisters, reminding me of the times where my ancestors had to bow down to their misters.
my brown eyes ripped open and ripped from their sockets from the tears millions of little black girls cried, begging for their eyes to be blue.
begging our mothers for relaxers cause our locs, our coils, our curls weren’t pretty enough for you.
with my 3 bundles of 30 inches of Malaysian hair down my back hitting my back like the 30 lashes - the 40 lashes that hit my ancestors’ back.
trying to fit in a system that was never created for me… i’ve lost sight who i truly must be..
An angry black woman.and i’m sensitive about my people - my culture.
my culture that was traded for a few guns (more manipulation), put on a boat and snatched from my motherland
my land…that “they” claim is so barren now
well now it is since they stole everything
well now it is because they’ve raped our entire being
since they have tried to erase our entire meaning…
lets not forget to how they call our children fatherless, but fail to mention that they incarcerate and kill all of our men
calling our women crazy, loud, rude and obnoxious after centuries of beating and rapings in front of their own children
calling our children promiscuous, stupid, thugs when they’ve given the white people all the privilege one too many claim that they don’t have.
shutting down our schools, foreclosing our homes, killing our leaders, taking away any positivity from our communities.
this system isn’t corrupt - it just was never made for us.
He crash lands on a familiar street, and he tries to turn back and close the doors behind him before the weight of memory sets in, but suddenly there’s a tug at his coat.
“S'cuse me, mister.”
And it’s a girl, with yellow hair and rosy cheeks, who holds herself like she’s ten feet tall even though her tiny raised hand barely reaches his waist.
He blinks. Hard. Holding back tears and memories that come rushing, unbidden.
“Hello,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”
His voice is quiet, and far, far away.
She chews on a fingernail, peeking around him. “S'your box magic? Cos it wasn’t here an’ then zzzhhhh.” She waves her hands back and forth on either side of her head, her eyes screwed closed, trying out a gesture to describe the sound the TARDIS makes.
She can’t remember this. Can she?
“No—” he starts, and then, “Well, yes. A little.”
Chubby hands, balled into fists, fly to her hips. “Thought so!”
And she’s grinning, so proudly, that tongue-touched smile that makes his hearts swell in his chest.
“Only clever people can see it,” he plays. And now he’s smiling too, because she’s so happy and even this, in the wrong time, in the wrong way, feels so like home.
He can hear a clock ticking away in his head. “I’ve got to go. But thank you.”
“What’d I do?” Her little brow furrows.
He doesn’t know what to say, how to possibly put into words everything she’s done, everything she will do, everything she’s always doing, for him; and so he winks at her, and makes to leave. Because if he screws this up now, if he’s here too long and she remembers too much— no. The thought of him living in a world where he never meets Rose Tyler makes his stomach reel. Because he wouldn’t be living. Not really.
“I like you, mister,” she says, suddenly, brown eyes wider than they’ve ever been.
And his hearts stop.
He drops to his knees before her, taking her small hands in his. And there are tears in his eyes, when he speaks again, for one last time. His voice is soft.
Summary: MACUSA hires a skilled trainer for the soon to be aurors and Percival Graves is more than surprised to meet her.
Word Count: 1.1k
A/N: I felt like writing something about Fantastic Beasts so here’s that. I was extremly torn between writing something about Queenie, Credence or Graves.
The morning had started off just as any other, after walking for not more than three blocks Mister Percival Graves arrived at his workplace right on time.
“Good morning, Mister Graves!” the brown-haired guy, who had finished his studies in Ilvermorny only two months ago, called out when he saw his boss, the head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
“Morning,” the tall man muttered without looking up from the newspaper that he was holding in his hands.
“Madam President told Jake who told Mary, I mean Miss Greenhill, who came here and told me that she wanted to…” he stopped for a second when Graves shot him an annoyed look over the newspaper.
“Madam President wants to see you, sir,” the assistant said.
“It wasn’t that hard, now was it?” Graves said to his assistant when he placed his newspaper onto the guy’s table and turned around to walk out. The guy didn’t reply, he felt slightly bad for seemingly failing at such an easy task as telling Graves that he is needed somewhere else.
It’s the last episode of the amazing world of gumball the void has spread into their world and all the characters have realized their not real their only a show and have resigned themselves to their fate, for the show to end.
Slowly the void spreads throughout Elmore leaving not but static untill it reaches the last remaining house, the wattersons house, where inside the family sits silently together in their last moments of existence, then, there’s nothing but a black screen.
Suddenly the screen jumps to life and we bagan to pan all over Elmore, everyone’s back some may have changed but it’s still them and their just happy going about their lives.
We see the construction workers working away, miss symian and mister brown on a date, a happy larry at his one and only job and even gumball and Darwin hanging around the school yard with all their friends.
Then finally we land on a small house where out steps rob, he’s back to his normal blue cyclops self, and he’s smiling.
A number of different sized and aged cyclops all come walking giving various greetings to him all with the name rob in it.
Then an older cyclops steps out gives him a kiss and tells him to have a good day at school as the yet seen smallest cyclops wordlessly joins him.
Rob finally gets the mother, siblings and sidekick he always wanted and we watch them walk away together as the ending music starts to play and the words spell out ‘the amazing world of rob’.