#m!error

[czerwonywilk]

a great change and a great way to execute the idea

[skell-core]

mlem

[mblue-art]

sans au sexyman polls doooodle

congrats to the kings<3 🫶🫶🫶

[stonesandpeaches]

sometimes i like to think he still wears his old hoodie underneath his coat,,,

error belongs to loverofpiggies

[camping-with-monsters]

I NEED EVERYONE TO STOP WHAT THEY’RE DOING AND PLEASE LOOK AT THIS GOD AWFUL TYPHLOSION PLUSH WE FOUND AT A CANDY STORE DOWNTOWN. YES WE BOUGHT HIM.

GOOD GOD HE’S SO UGLY. WE LOVE HIM SO MUCH. I THINK HIS NAME IS FINKLE.

[amoritasart]

He learned from the best ! ☺️

Meanwhile Caleb

Based on my AU

[hotdadlicense]

DINNER IN AMERICA (2020)

[foccaccia]

Day 17, Pact, for Wyllstravaganza2024. This was originally going to be a lineless painting. lol. Lmao, even.

[lights-at-night]

a chronological analysis of ranefall's relationship

alternately titled, 2373 words of me yapping about ranefall

long post. spoilers for all of tsv s3

on first impression, the relationship between faulkner and rane is that of a prophet and his disciple, a leader and his loyal advisor. rane's introduction is them driving faulkner back to the paraclete's gulch - an act of service, which sets a tone for the rest of their relationship. they say that "it was a true privilege to have seen it with [faulkner]". this establishes that rane and faulkner are not on equal footing, that rane's experience is elevated by faulkner's presence (or perhaps status). 

after this, faulkner persuades rane into telling him about their opinions of the katabasians' council by saying that they are on equal footing. of course, they aren't. but this illusion allows rane to feel like they are permitted to be open with him. faulkner doesn't return this courtesy, not answering rane's question of if legalisation is allowed and instead telling rane something appropriately shocking (a death threat towards him), to perhaps distract. 

 rane continues to act as faulkner's assistant in the next few episodes, bringing him news of the parish. however, chapter 33 marks a gradual change in rane and faulkner's relationship. faulkner's monologue in returning to the paraclete's gulch shows how far he has risen in status within the parish. he isn't just an ambitious fanatic in the eyes of the faith anymore, to them he is a prophet. and he is loved. 

as this is happening, rane takes over more and more of his responsibilities. thirteen sentences of this monologue are dedicated to repeating back what rane has told him. this shows his increase in reliance on rane to tell him about the parish and also likely means that rane is the one who has been finding out all this, giving them a more active role in the parish. at the end of this chapter, rane is the one arranging the ceremony to pray /derogatory for carpenter and they are the one preaching to the worshippers, which likely means that they were in charge of that ceremony and not faulkner. their relationship has become somewhat balanced, though not equal: rane obeys faulkner's orders since he is the high prophet, and faulkner obeys rane's stage directions for his performance. 

this episode is a turning point for rane and faulkner, with rane taking a more active role in leading the parish and faulkner confined to being a extremely prized decoration, an object of worship.

this is what their relationship seems to be at a surface level. but faulkner's monologue in chapter 33 also tells us that he views his status as a prophet as a "performance". he doesn't genuinely believe he is a mouthpiece of the trawlerman. the status that the parish has raised him to is somewhat undeserved. 

whether rane, too, believes that faulkner is in direct communion with the trawlerman is not revealed. they always act like it, but since the only lens we see them through is faulkner's, this is not necessarily an accurate representation of them. it would seem that  rane is loyal to faulkner, for example in their interactions with  roemont. the stage directions in this section state how rane is "placatory", and how in the first scene mentioned their tone is "polite". when asked what they see in faulkner by roemont, they say "i'm not sure i understand", which could be genuine confusion over how roemont doesn't see faulkner's glory, or a way to go forth in the conversation as neutral and not be accused by either side. from this, my guess is that rane has a genuine belief in faulkner, to an extent, but may be doing so only for the sake of politeness, or appearances. 

chapter 38 continues to have their dynamic be in limbo. greve's message to faulkner makes him all the more self aware about his deception. he is reminded unkindly that he is very much alone and no amount of love from his fanatics can change that. 

so faulkner tells rane about his childhood home, making the both of them feel like they are closer. without the pressure of leading the parish, they can pretend they could be friends. given faulkner repeating greve's monologue, i think he talks to rane as a way to remind himself he isn't as alone as she says he is. 

then faulkner tells rane to find him prayermarks to protect from gods. when asked if using the marks of another god is blasphemy to the trawlerman, faulkner replies with "it's not blasphemy if the high prophet does it,". he is still leveraging his title over rane despite his discontent with the role. to him, he says whatever will get him the prayermarks. to rane, it blends faulkner as a person with faulkner the high prophet even more.

at the end of the episode, rane saves faulkner from drowning himself. they ask him if he heard the music. this shows how their faith is at the forefront of rane's mind, not faulkner's wellbeing, and it always has and will be - an attitude they hold throughout the series and which faulkner acknowledges in the drowning scene. faulkner doesn't answer, which is a completely reasonable response in this situation. this is probably the most honest they have been with each other since their meeting, with rane saying what i assume they are thinking and faulkner not lying about his faith in the trawlerman. 

faulkner continues his descent, and rane can see this. they might be making an effort yo keep faulkner alive but the only actions we see them make are to repair faulkner's facade. for example, with sister cull, rane tells her to forget she heard any of that. even though the grand aquifer is run down and, as faulkner says, not grand at all, rane continues to pretend that this is what they've all been waiting for, that their sect of the faith is glorious and winning their civil war, which faulkner tells us. i think this is rane's way of showing care, of trying to lift the burden of performance from faulkner. in chapter 44, they say with honesty that they "saw [faulkner] falter" and that "it is [their] duty to pick him back up," which is what i believe their intentions to be when they carry on faulkner's performance. 

 previously, in e33, they found faulkner near to having a breakdown and faulkner told them it was because direct communion with the trawlerman was taxing. and since they found faulkner in the same place he first heard the trawlerman as a child,, it would be a reasonable assumption for rane to make that faulkner was doing that again. they might not genuinely believe this, but it could be a way for them to make sense of faulkner in a way that aligns with their view of him. so they accept this, try their best to make sure it cannot happen again, because what would be the point of all this if faulkner cannot be what everyone thinks he is? nothing is more important than the faith, and the high prophet is the basis of this entire faith. so they pick up the pieces of faulkner's cracked mask, and tell the devout that everything is fine and good. because of this, rane has completely taken over faulkner's responsibilities at this point. there's a quote from arcane that is applicable here: "when i ask [...] what [he's] up to, your name's the first out of their mouth." rane is practically leading the parish at this point, in all ways save titles. 

a demonstration of how little faulkner's word matters is in chapter 43, where rane pressures faulkner into giving away the withermark and tells their audience to disregard faulkner's words, which the faithful do. this shows faulkner's deterioration not only mentally but also in the eyes of his worshippers. he is not what they believe him to be, and so his words are disregarded easily. as he says himself, the word's won't save [him]. they never could. this scene also works as a reversal of their first meeting, where faulkner pressures rane into telling their true opinions with his status. in contrast here, rane pressures faulkner into telling the truth of the withermark with their status among the faith. this is representative of how their positions are completely swapped, with rane holding significantly more power than faulkner. 

faulkner is aware that they are both performing to a degree. the drowning scene is important because in that scene, faulkner takes advantage of their mutual performance to force rane to drown. faulkner frames his discontent in the role of the high prophet, and hides himself from rane for the final time. he pretends that his rage at their indirect murder of carpenter was because he did not have the opportunity to do so himself: that his anger is out of betrayal from their disobedience and not the remnants of love for his sister. this makes sense to rane, it fits into their view of him - it is stated in the transcripts that "rane understands now." faulkner continues to fit within his persona in this scene - is it not fitting that a prophet name his closest advisor his successor, to give someone so close to him a role of importance? - i believe this is what makes rane realize that something is wrong. faulkner has not put on this role in a while - since his suicide attempt, he puts low to no effort into maintaining how he is regarded by the parish. to pivot from that to this is a drastic change, one that likely has reason put into it. faulkner then pressures rane to join him in the water using the role they made for themself. he calls rane is his "most faithful servant", and tells them that "i wouldn’t want you coming to resent me, sibling rane. not when you’ve worked so hard to get me where i am." he puts rane back into a place beneath him, pretending that rane is not the one in control. the next step in this scene would be, of course, for rane to join faulkner in the water. the transcript states, "rane hesitates. they are most definitely afraid for their life and unwilling to join faulkner in the water...but they don't know how to say it without completely shattering the shared performance of loyalty and trust." this demonstrates that rane is aware that this is a performance and that they are expected to play a role just like faulkner was. since neither of them can let up the performance in front of the other, rane is coerced into going into the water.

faulkner disrobes, symbolic of how he is in a way giving up the act. his high prophet clothes have been representative of his persona since ch33, where he describes the clothes that he wears as the high prophet. rane, previously, had told him that his disciples had sewn him a cassock. he says it is too big for him, and rane says they'll pad out his shoulders. this is a physical representation of how rane reshapes him to serve a purpose for the parish. in this scene, he sheds the physical form of the persona of the high prophet and as he drowns rane, he is once again honest with them. 

this scene also demonstrates well how faulkner views rane as a mirror of himself. rane has parallels to faulkner in season 2, with faulkner comparing him and rane to mason and him. rane is as faulkner once was, an eager disciple who thought they were special, but who now knows better. faulkner also asks rane if they would like to be him multiple times, and when drowning rane says many things that could be applicable as him talking to himself, such as "you’re meant to be born anew, sibling! that’s what this is all about! you’re meant to be DIFFERENT! you’re meant to be BETTER! why aren’t you becoming SOMETHING BETTER?" if we interpret this to be faulkner projecting really hard, in this he expresses frustration towards how becoming high prophet has not somehow shifted him into being a better, greater person. though he calls rane charlie in the final paragraphs of the scene, he could also be talking to himself - "we’re so close, you and I, we’re almost there, we can almost hear the music, and once we hear the music, we’ll understand what it was all about, we’ll finally understand, and all the pain will be worth it, everything will be worth it-" he clings onto the idea that there is something better in his future, and tells rane that as he drowns them. 

this scene is faulkner subjecting rane to what he feels they've done to him. faulkner locking him and rane in the dreaming pools together represents how they are both trapped in their respective roles. faulkner twists his words to force rane into a role that isn't them in a mirror of rane persisting the high prophet facade. by drowning rane, faulkner feels as though he is drowning himself, which gives him some degree of satisfaction, given his suicidal ideation. but all he has achieved is to make himself more alone. 

though faulkner views rane as a perfect mirror, a "better version of [him], perhaps, who falters less and says the right words at the proper time," what rane really is to faulkner is a shadow. faulkner cannot see rane for who they are because he is too caught up in himself, as demonstrated in the drowning scene. we only see rane without faulkner on one occasion, with roemont, and even that is brief. a shadow is an imitation always seen with the one who casts it - as is rane. since rane never gets their own point of view written in the series, what faulkner is to rane is deliberately nebulous. due to faulkner's unreliable narration. rane is viewed through layers of paranoia, self-loathing and projection. we can never truly know what faulkner was to rane, but we can guess. my personal opinion is that rane did care about faulkner, but their idolization of him and prioritisation of the faith made it impossible to form a true bond. 

thanks for reading!

[chinchillion]

“Since you did a good job, I’ll give you a pat on the head.”

— SEMANTIC ERROR, episode 6

[pretty-boy-streaming]

Hey! Can I request a Micah Yujin x ftm Reader

You sure can!

TV-G: ftm!reader, fluff, sweetness, micah being a little jerk, hacking (ofc), sleepytime reader

You tapped away at your computer, lazily writing a response to your friend's post. Your eyes began feeling heavy, and you considered going to sleep.

Ding!

Your eyes slowly opened and you saw a familiar hacking calling card.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"Mmn... Micah..." You opened up your chatroom and began to call Micah. His face popped on the screen, smiling at him.

"Heyyy, loser."

"Mmn, hey, Micah..."

Micah cocked his head. "Are you tired? You seem like you're sleepy."

"I am..." You yawned and rested your head on your hand. "I was about to go to sleep, but then you called me..."

He chuckled quietly. "Ah... did you remove your binder?"

"Yeah, I usually do before winding down..." Your eyes slipped close. "Why, you wanna see something?"

"Of course not." He smiled softly. "I just want to make sure you're okay, yeah? Don't want you getting hurt."

You sleepily smiled. "Mmn... thanks, Micah..." Your head suddenly slammed on your desk and you shot up in your chair. It took you a moment as you looked around to realize that Micah was laughing. Hard.

"Ho-o-oly shit! You actually did that!"

Your face heated up and you glared at him. "Shut up, Micah!"

"Hahaha!! S-Sorry-! Hah! It was just funny!"

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. "Oh whatever..."

He slowly stopped laughing and took a deep breath in. "Oh... sorry. Are you okay..?"

"Yeah... my forehead hurts a bit." You rubbed your forehead.

"Aww, I'm sorry, pretty boy..."

You looked away. "You know how I feel whenever you call me pretty boy..."

"Well, you are one, y'know... a really pretty boy..."

"Shut up, Micah..." You tapped a few things on your computer. "I'm gonna go to sleep, alright?"

"Okayy..." He pouted. "Can we talk again tomorrow?"

"Of course, handsome."

His cheeks darkened and he smiled bashfully. "...Can't wait..."

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

My AYS photobook is supposed to arrive today and the app says my package will be delivered between 11 pm - 1 am 🙃

[mokadevs]

train station

[ossy-serenity]

Looks can be Deceiving

It`s right in front of you

continuation of this drawing

[queerxreader]

Howdy!! I was wondering if you could do a Logan x m!reader who has a harpy mutation and it’s a wing care thing, I think it could be interesting because caring for a birds wings is a very intimate thing. And or a spideypool + m!reader cuddling fluffy piece?

- 🎭

Logan/Wolverine x M!Reader with Harpy Mutation/Wings.

Bird, Bath, and Intimacy.

Featured/Warnings: Vague angst and Nudity. Baths. Comfort and Care. Fluff piece. Flirting.

Writer’s Note: I Really adore the idea of Logan this big tough guy being so gentle and caring towards his winged boyfriend. Also I’m still planning on writing a Spideypool cuddle fic but it’ll be separate from this. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! And apologies for how long it took to push this out.

“Stay still. Quit your flapping.” Logan’s gruff voice barked at you.

Your feathery appendages had a mind of their own, and when it came to Logan’s touch your soft wings fluttered for the callous man.

“I’m trying, I’m just not used to someone else taking care of my wings”

“Someone has to.”

Though he sounded aggravated to be helping you, you could sense his calmness. You knew deep down he cared for you, otherwise he wouldn’t have even offered.

You were sitting on your legs in the tub, the lukewarm water felt relaxing on your skin. Logan sat on the inner edge of the tub, his feet soaking in the water with his jeans cuffed up as high as he could manage on his toned calves. He was softly kneading his fingers into your feathers. His hands were coated in a special soap that was advertised to be strong enough to get oil out of ducks. He assumed this would be the best alternative compared to the shoddy attempts at cleaning yourself were.

He noticed your difficulty cleaning your wings when he saw you one early spring morning. He couldn’t sleep again so he was just having a beer as a breakfast appetizer. He looked out the kitchen window to enjoy the beginning of the sunrise. There you were, out there waiting on the edge of the fence, he pondered what you were doing, but instead of going outside to ask he just enjoyed this new view that seemed to outshine the sun rising.

Abruptly the sprinklers chittered on, Logan knew they were scheduled to do this, but it always raised the hairs on his arms. The sprinklers were always really tall in the mornings due to the expectation that everyone would be asleep this early in the day.

You promptly thrashed your wings to glide down

through the high force water oscillating into the air. All Logan saw between your swift flailing of wings and every few moments he’d see your mostly nude masculine frame covered by a pair of tight swim shorts. He admired the way your wet body glistened in the pale morning light, it was times like this he swore you were an angel rather than a harpy-adjacent mutant humanoid. He still loved you as the latter reality, however.

He saw you land atop one of the garden statues, you perched there for a second before shaking and writhing your feathers and hair dry. He always thought you were kidding when you said you bathed exactly like a bird. While he did think it was cute watching you do your avian drying dance, he wondered if you did this year around. Wouldn’t you get sick doing this during the winter or fall, only so much of your genetics include this mutant bird dna, what about the human parts?

As you got to a decent stage where you could just air dry the rest of your body, you hovered over the patio to retrieve your robe and enter the mansion.

You only got so far into the door of the kitchen before a gravelly voice teased you.

“Did'ja have a nice bird bath?”

You nodded while sitting down at the kitchen table, “I did actually, I’m fixing to have some breakfast.”

“I think we have some sunflower seeds in the pantry for you to peck on.”

“Ha. Ha. Really funny, wolf boy.”

“You were serious about those bird baths. I thought you just took regular baths like the rest of us.”

“Newsflash, blades-for-joints, do I look like the rest of ‘us’?”

“Hey now, I was just saying I didn’t expect it to be true.”

“Well you caught me, now what.”

“I don’t think a rinse is good enough to get you clean. Those feathers are complex.”

“Yeah, so are a bird’s.”

“But you’re not all bird.. you have a human immune system and taking baths like that—

“Aw Logan, you’re worried about me getting sick? Don’t worry I never get sick.”

Almost like you had jinxed yourself, you sneezed instantaneously.

He smirked, pleased with being right, however there was a tiny glint of concern in his eye. A literal blink and you miss it type of glint. You’re glad you didn’t miss it though.

“See.”

“Whatever. It’s just ‘cause it’s cold in here.”

The memory fades as Logan turns the shower hose on you, the warm water juxtaposing the now cooler water you sat in. You shivered and then eased into the soothing feeling of water flowing between your wings in places you could never reach on your own. Logan rubbed his rough hands between your shoulder blades massaging the sensitive spot. You keened into his touch as he kneaded the tender spot that connected your wings to your spine.

“I know this spot takes a lot of weight, it must hurt to keep these things steady all the time”

“You have no idea,”

“Believe me I do— these claws are a bitch when I unsheath them.”

“It hurts everytime.” It was a question but you phrased it as a statement since you already suspected the answer. Your wings often hurt when you first spread them out after a day of binding them away into your clothes to simply function amongst the quote-on-quote normal humans. But you couldn’t imagine the pain of having blades push out between your knuckles, it obviously was only a torture he could endure.

The healing factor was what made it somewhat bearable you assumed, but you wondered where all that physical trauma went when it went away. It’s possible that that pain replaced itself into mental and emotional stress, causing this man’s emotional state to be so toughened and built up high.

Though he hated sharing about himself, it often just flew out in conversation casually whenever he spoke to you. He felt he could truly put his guard down and trust you, and clearly you felt the same. The more he spoke the more you realized his concern wasn’t just that of a teammate or a close friend, he genuinely feared losing you. He’s mentioned losing many people he’s loved before, and sometimes he’s not taken the time to focus on the little things. It’s then you understand what this means to him, you allowing him to take care of you, this was for both of you. It would take a lot for him to admit that, he swore this was only for your own good. He’d chalk it up to you being careless and reckless, though he knows if he didn’t heal as quickly you’d be tending to his wounds like a mother hen every single mission.

As he opened up to you, growing distracted, you felt him knead into the width of your back a little rougher with his hand, right into a tender spot. Your wings thrashed upon the sensation, splashing water all outside the tub and all over the damp man. He practically growled at the sudden jostling of feathers, dropping the sprayer. The water spewed all over both of you. Logan’s jeans were already wet despite cuffing them at the ankles, but now they were practically a darker color from the wetness. His white shirt was now drenched completely too, you looked up at him laughing at him.

“That was on you. You know it’s sensitive there.”

Logan huffed a sigh, “I know,” he discarded his shirt, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by it clinging to his skin.

“Let’s try this again, just relax, okay?”

“It would be a lot easier if I could just lay back into this tub but I can’t.”

Logan adjusted the setting on the sprayer and continued aiming the warm water into the middle of your back. You sighed calmly. He softly spoke to you as he rubbed circles into your back instead of kneading, “better?”

“Much, much better,”

“I’m sorry the massage didn’t work,”

“It’s okay, you know how my wings are under your touch,”

He let out a low chuckle, smiling at you as he continued to rinse and softly rub your feathers clean.

You soothed one of your hands to hold his. You pecked a small kiss onto his hand. “We might have to do a massage another time, without water.”

Logan let out a small laugh through his nose, “I guess so, just let me know when.”

It was silent for a moment as he finished rinsing you. Finally when he was done, he assisted you in standing up, he placed a warm towel on your head and shook it to dry and fluff up your hair. When he took the towel away he saw your eyes looking at him adoringly.

“What’s that goofy look for birdbrain?”

“Thank you,”

“S’no big deal.”

“No,” you leaned closer to him, your bare wet legs pressing against his damp and taught jeans. You made sure your eyes had locked while you took both of your hands into his. You pecked a kiss onto his cheek ever so chaste. “Thank you, Logan.”

His face felt warm, he blinked in awe. You had been together for a while now and yet you still flustered him. As he turned around to return the gesture you were already headed out the room. Your wings shook erratically for a split second to rid the remaining water. Logan caught most of the extra splashing against his already dripping clothes, he didn’t mind it. He was just glad to be able to take care of you.

Even after looking at the flooded floor, he still had a grin on his face as he heard you leave.

“See ya later, feathers.”

[nonnieapple]

⛈ ★ Watermelon Face ★ ⛈

• (Marshall Lee x g/n reader)  • r a t i n g: t e e n  &  u p  • 7 1 4  w o r d s  •  p o s t e d 13.07.2023    🌧  navigation • s u m m a r y: marshall and reader are hanging out at the beach, and marshall is being his usual annoying self. 

 It was sunny and unbearably hot in Aaa. Dang, even Marshall was hot.  Not like that.  You sat under a weirdly colored umbrella, dressed in light clothes, relishing in the cool the ocean wind and shade provided. Candy citizens splashed in the water far from your secluded spot on the rocky beach, surrounded by half-submerged vehicles and objects you couldn't even name.  You adjusted your large sun hat and sipped a cold drink. You didn't need the hat, you were wearing it in solidarity with... an annoying vampire that was levitating on your right, under the umbrella, dawning a hat, gloves, the whole anti-sun fit.  He floated down and you frowned. He hadn't said a word yet, but you anticipated something dumb. It was right on the edge of his forked tongue.  "What's that?" His pleasant and casual baritone rang out by your ear, and you felt yourself shiver at his cold-ass hands on your shoulders.  You flinched and moved away. You gave him a side-eye.  "Mojito with watermelon eyeballs," You stated with no interest, sipping with displeasure. The breeze blew by, and a drop of condensation hit your leg.  "So are they... eyes? Or watermelon?" Marshall tilted his head, raising a brow, pointing at the glass.  The eyes bobbed up and down in liquid between chunks of ice. You grimaced, chewing through one and swallowing thickly.    "I don't know, but the texture is terrible. Worst mistake ever." You shuddered as the chewed up chunks of the fruit and or organ slid down your throat, finally out of your mouth. You took a gulp of the fizz. You stared out into the ocean. Gentle lapis waves rolled and crashed onto the golden shore. The sun still burned, and cream clouds floated along the horizon; a march into oblivion.  You inhaled fresh air, chunks of ice stinging your mouth and teeth. In a good way. "Eating the ice?"  And there, your moment of serenity was quickly interrupted. Or obscured, more like. By Marshall.  Your brows lowered and you crunched loudly. "Yea, is crunchy," You said with a full mouth.  Marshall laughed at your expression, putting his long arms behind his head, lounging mid air. Was it bothering you? Kind of. Did you have enough energy to bicker with him?  Your frown deepened.  No. That was your Glob-damned off day!  Marshall clicked his tongue, gestured with his hand, and closed his eyes.  "I prefer to crunch on the bones of my enemies," He quipped as he opened his eyes and hissed out the "s", his scleras black and his irises and pupils a bright red. You suppressed a smile.  "You know what else is cold and hard?" He said in an aloof, teasing tone.  Marshall smirked.  Your smile and frown fell, replaced by thinly concealed horror. "What." It was less of a question and more of a panicked stammer.   Double take wasn’t enough. Not even triple take. You nearly choked on your drink. You stared at his cold hands and forced your eyes to stare into his demonic crimson eyes. You hoped dearly that he couldn't read minds.  "The beds in the Ice Kingdom! I stayed over at Simona's last night and my back still hurts," He explained calmly, looking away. When his eyes fell on you, he burst out into a cackle, spinning and clutching his stomach as his hat nearly fell off.  "What did you think I was gonna say?!" He threw back his head, fangs brandished and eyes watching you.  "... Well.... you know..."  The words died in your throat with your dignity. You felt your face heat up as you pressed yourself into your chair. "What?" He smirked, drawling, unable to contain his amusement at your suffering. "Nothing." You looked down, metaphorical tail between your legs. You were definitely red with how much your face burned. When condensation dripped on your leg again, you flinched.  Thoughts? Ninety miles per hour. Face? One billion degrees.  He floated closer to you. He wouldn't flippin’ dare. His hands extended to your face.  "Wow, hey there watermelon fa-"  You cut him off by chucking a handful of ice at his face. He caught it with his maw. He crunched loudly, arms folded. He looked into nowhere for a bit.  He smiled, still chewing. "Oh, it is crunchy!"