(A/N) Hi, yes I know the title is shit but would you look at that!!! Fluff!!!
The sudden flood of lights made Chase recoil in shock, squeezing his eyes shut as they seared for a minute or two before the pain tapered off.
“Chase? What the fuck are you doing up at… 4:27?” It was Schneep.
He cracked his eyes open, taking in the doctor’s weary appearance. His typically immaculate coat wrinkled, glasses askew, hair unkempt, deep purple bags under his tired eyes…
Chase gestured to the carton, metal utensil still in his mouth. “Ice cream,” came out muffled but the sight of Chase shoveling ice cream into his mouth at the early hours of the morning was explanation enough.
“Woke up and I was craving sweets. Sue me,” Chase huffed.
Schneep’s disbelieving stare refused to go away. “Chase, that is a new carton.”
A raise of the eyebrows. “Your point?” At Schneep’s silence, Chase slid open a drawer and procured a spoon, offering it to him. “You look like you need it.”
After a moment of silence, the doctor muttered, “Danke.” He took the spoon and moved to head towards the counter.
“Hey, uh, can you actually turn off the lights? It’s—um—really bright…”
The flick of the light switch plunged the room into darkness once more and Chases could hardly make out the figure of Schneep moving to lean on the counter barely two or three feet away from him.
“So… how’s work going?” Chase asked, already feeling as if he knew the answer.
“Horrible.” His blunt reply didn’t surprise Chase in the slightest. “Is a lot of paperwork to be done.”
Chase felt bad for him. No one liked to do paperwork, and while Schneep would never admit it openly but he wasn’t the best at reading and his English still needed some work (though the paperwork—ironically—helped with both those things).
“Oof… that sounds fun,” he muttered.
“Well is not,” Schneep grumbled matter-of-factly, and his tone was enough to make the other snort.
They fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before: “Wait… this is Marvin’s ice cream, is it not?”
Chase was unconcerned. ”Yeah, so what?”
“He is going to be pissed that we ate it. Is his favorite after all.”
“Eh, we’ll buy him a new carton later.”
The lights flipped on and Schneep swore softly (though quite colorfully), hands going up to cover his eyes while Chase recoiled and hissed.
“I knew I heard—… what the hell guys! That’s my ice cream!” They could hear Marvin’s frustration levels rise.
“Told you so,” Schneep grumbled.
“It’s not like your name’s on it,” Chase retaliated.
“Yeah, it is.”
Chase turned the carton to reveal a patch of sharpie on the side. “Oh really? I think not.”
“You’re a dick.”
“Takes one to know one.” Chase grinned at Marvin’s growl. “Before you come join us, could you turn off the light?”
“Who said I was going to join you two?” Marvin bristled.
“Because it’s your ice cream?” Chase tried weakly.
“So you admit it!” Marvin cried triumphantly, jabbing a finger at him.
The lights were flicked off with a groan before shuffling footsteps dragged their way towards them.
“What are you guys doing out here anyway?” Marvin asked as he retrieved a spoon.
“Woke up and wanted ice cream.”
“Came up here to get a new cup of coffee but got sidetracked.”
“What about you?” Chase asked.
“My magic won’t calm down enough, so I can’t sleep. I came out here to get ice cream, but it appears you thieves had the same idea.”
“We’ll buy you a new one later, chill dude.”
The promise placated Marvin enough that they could lapse into silence.
“Shit, I’m really cold now.”
“That’s what you get.”
“Call me that one more time I swear to the gods—”
The light turned on a third time and everyone groaned, shielding their eyes.
“What are you all doing up at… 4:40?” A tired voice asked with a yawn.
“Ah, you are finally back.” Schneep greeted.
“I was gonna go to bed, but you guys are really loud,” the hero mumbled, turning the lights off without being asked and moving to join the other three.
“Are not being loud,” Schneep countered. “Everything just sounds loud to you.”
“Is really not—”
Jackie cut him off suddenly. “Why are you guys eating from the carton with spoons? This is brand new!”
“In my defense, I was planning on finishing it.” Chase muttered softly, stabbing the utensil into the softening dessert again.
“I just realized you’re using a fork to eat ice cream. Chase, what the fuck?”
“I accidentally grabbed a fork and was too lazy to put it back and get a spoon! Get off my dick!”
“The drawer is literally right beside you!”
“My point still stands.”
(A/N) Haven’t we all just had a craving for something late at night??? Mine’s probably sweets or crackers.
Summary: when she was 8 years old y/n’s parents died in a car accident. When she was 14 she was dropped at an orphanage covered in scars. At 15 she is being adopted by the biggest Crime Lord in Australia (Chris Hemsworth). What will happen when she turns 18 and is forced to marry the British Crime Lords son? What happened to her in those 6 years? Why does she have such a big problem with England?
“ too bad your father is the one who designed this contract. She will marry my son when she turns 18!”
I burst into the office.
“I’ll be doing what now!”
“So this is Y/n.”
The man raised his hand to touch my hair. As soon as his hand was an inch away from my from my face I grabbed his wrist and push his fist into his face. His fists slammed back into his nose causing a massive nose bleed.
“Don’t! Touch! Me! Ever!”
His goons run over to help him. One of the goons pulled out a gun.
“Who do you think you are little girl!”
In one swift motion I grab the gun an roundhouse kick the guy in the chest pushing him against the wall. I drop the magazine and release the bullet from the gun. By this point about 20 of our men burst in due to the commotion.
“Are you ok Y/n.”
“I’m fine Troy. But our guess may need some tissues and ices.”
The man’s goons lowered their weapons as ours left the office. There was dead silence until Troy came back with ice.
“Here you go sir. Oh and not to be disrespectful but I wouldn’t antagonist y/n I’ve seen her in action, she’s not one to mess with.”
The room fell silent again after Troy left.
“Mr. Hemsworth I think we should talk without your daughter in the room.”
“With all due respect Mr. Holland but this does involve her. So she stays.”
Mr. Holland places the ice on the back of his neck.
After an hour of arguing Mr.Holland decided to end the meeting by saying.
“I’m sorry Chris your father set this up over 10 years ago. There’s nothing than can stop it.” Then he walked out of the office. I slam my fist into the wall so hard it goes through.
I scream in frustration as I pull my fist from the wall.
“ THIS IS BULLSHIT. HE CANT FUCKING DO THIS.”
“Y/n, I’m sorry he can. If this marriage doesn’t happen it’ll be war between our families.”
“I’M NOT GOING TO MARRY THAT CUNTS SON!”
“Y/n, sweety, we don’t have a choice. Please calm down.”
“BUT… there-there has to be a way out of this.”
“Please Y/n give him a shot. Plus you have two years.”
“Argh! I really don’t like this.”
“I know sweety. But we don’t have a choice.”
I walk over to the doorway.
“I still don’t like this!”
“I know. Hey can you send Dave in to fix the wall again.”
I look over to the hole. Soon gonna be another patch. It’ll blend in with all the other patches, from all the other stressful meetings. Honestly I’m surprised the walls in this office are still standing.
“Ya, ok. I still fucking hate England!”
With that I left the office. Told Dave and made my way to the gym. The only place I can let out my rage (and not get in trouble).
‘This guys probably 5 foot and fucking ugly. There has to be some way out of this contract. There’s no way I’m moving to England. Arghhh.’
I poured all my anger out on a punching bag. We let’s just say we need a new punching bag now.
I walked back to my room. Halfway down the hall a bomb when a bomb detonated. Sending me flying backwards till I hit a wall. My ears are ringing. My vision is blurry. I try to stand but fall back down. I see men running towards me. My vision goes black.
Just as the phrase “what the entire fuck” implies the existence of fractional fucks, the phrase “what the absolute fuck” implies the existence of both positive and negative fucks (or else there would be no need for an absolute value operation). Taken together with the phrase “what the actual fuck” (which implies the existence of imaginary fucks), we may thus conclude that fuckery is isomorphic with the complex field.
Everyone’s always saying that ghosts are “Evil, malevolent beings” but homie, I guarantee if some bitch-ass suburban family walked right into your house and started redecorating your shit, you’d be pretty pissed off too
A clock whose face goes up to 13 is a total cliché at this point - If I walked into some Hell-dimension and saw that, I’d just think they were trying too hard. You know what would really unnerve me? A clock whose face stops at 11.
I’m done. *waves a banner with “GAVIN REED IS GAY” written on it* Like that wasn’t obvious enough… Also, you can’t win this game, if your wide open smile makes you look a bit insane. So, I’ll go and plan a next little thing. This time - a bit angsty. Because I’m all about that psychological torture… And I know, it’s not an original joke, but I was half way through the thing when I found out that I’m a bad comedian. Duuuuur.
I think the Splatoon franchise’s greatest innovation is explicitly establishing that Inklings are dumb as hell, because that way they don’t have to do any backflips to justify the plot. Everyone involved canonically has the mental acuity of a bowl of porridge, so just go with it!