“The greatest philosophical minds of our generation are wasting their time on altered recitations of beowulf where grendel and beowulf explore each others bodies.”
– some asshole in the past, probably
Comment
I have to wonder, is one random fandom blog that doesn’t post anything against the TOS genuinely being falsely reported by people often enough that it gets automatically banned faster than hate speech blogs, charity scammers, and pornbots?
Or is there one remaining staff member in charge of bans who honestly considers nuking such a blog as a higher priority than banning hate speech blogs, charity scammers and pornbots?
either way, it doesn’t say great things about the site.
“You’re drunk, Chris.”
“And you aren’t?”
“No.”
Chris stared at Captain Wesker, in the dim, hazy light of the bar. There were a dozen empty beer bottles in front of them, but Chris couldn’t remember which were his, and which were Wesker’s.
Wesker looked stone cold sober. Handsome, and stone cold sober. Shit, not handsome. Your boss isn’t handsome, Redfield.
(He’s really handsome.)
“I’ll call a cab,” Chris murmured, standing to stagger to the payphone.
Wesker grabbed his wrist. “Let me take you home.”
Chris felt his cheeks burn. Could the captain mean what he hoped he meant?
“Okay, sir.”
Crocodile wouldn’t have let anyone else in the world wash his hair but he was too tired to argue when Daz offered to do it for him on the ship as they sailed away from Marineford.
“It hasn’t been washed since before Impel Down,” Daz reminded him. “Just let me do it, alright?”
Crocodile allowed it.
He let Daz sink his head back in the basin of warm water, and massage his scalp.
He shivered at the sensation, and realized that despite the water, despite the chaos and heartbreak of Marineford, he hadn’t been this relaxed in a long time.
“Hold still, please.” Ryuunosuke’s words were gentle but firm, like his grip on Barok’s hand as he wound the bandage.
Barok had a sour looking pout on his face. He watched the bandage stain red, as the Japanese lawyer tended his cut.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been throwing bottles around,” Ryuunosuke tutted.
Barok at least had the good grace to look sheepish about it. “I was in a temper.”
“And look what happened.” He stroked his thumb over Barok’s bandaged palm. “But it’ll heal alright I think.”
Barok had the good grace to thank him, as well.