#steel the indestructible man

[doctorslippery]

[splooosh]

“Commander”

Jerry Ordway

[p-c-ba-dcforever]

Happy 4th! We're celebrating with the whole Steel legacy! (and while we're doing so, maybe some credit to Don Heck who, given the thankless job of "make Captain America, but different", turned out a pretty sharp design!

[chernobog13]

Rondo Hatton schemes to make life difficult for the Iron Skull in Amazing-Man Comics #16 (October, 1940).

And compared to the Iron Skull, Rondo was Adonis.

This is the Iron Skull:

He was created by Carl Burgos, who also created an obscure character named the Human Torch for Timely Comics.

The Iron Skull initially did not have an origin story when he first appeared in the very first issue of Amazing-Man Comics (which, oddly, was numbered 5; there were no issues #1-4). He just showed up at the scene of a crime and started mopping up crooks left and right.

Later it was revealed that the Skull was a soldier gravely injured during World War ll, which was interesting because America had not entered the war at the time the story was written. The soldier's damaged flesh and bones were replaced with metal by a kindly doctor, making the soldier super-strong and bullet-proof. Oddly though, the doctor gave the new cyborg animé cat eyes, and completely forgot to give him a nose.

Don't believe me? Here's the Iron Skull's full origin from Amazing-Man Comics #7 (November, 1939).

Written and drawn by Carl Burgos.

Yeah, that's all the explanation anyone every got as to who he is and how he came to be.

The series took place in the future of the 1960s, when the war - some of which had been fought in America - finally came to an end. The country was rebuilding itself, but crime became rampant, which is why the Ron Skull - so-called because of his noseless appearance - became a crime fighter.

By Amazing-Man Comics #11 the series had jumped ahead to the early 1970s. War broke out in Europe again, and an unnamed nation was instigating terrorist attacks in the States. The Iron Skull now concentrated his efforts on tackling the spies and saboteurs trying to bring America down.

The Iron Skull skipped issues #12 & 13 of Amazing-Man Comics. He was back with issue #14, but gone was Carl Burgos, replaced by Sam Gilman. Also gone was the futuristic setting and any reference to the events of the previous stories. The Iron Skull moved to New York City where, somehow, in the very next issue he could mentally communicate with the District Attorney.

From Amazing-Man Comics #16. Story and art by Sam Gilman.

The Iron Skull continued to smash crime and war saboteurs in now contemporary, pre-War New York until his strip ended in issue #22. He then moved over to Star and Stripes #2 (May, 1941), along with most of other characters from Amazing-Man Comics, which was cancelled after issue #26.

Things progressed quickly for the Skull in his new book. In issue #3 he got a costume, albeit a simple pair of swim trunks. In issue #4 he inexplicably gained the ability to fly. And in issue #5 he became completely bald. However, as compensation the Iron Skull got his true superhero costume (although he just looks like an employee at your local S&M dungeon):

Yes, that's a skull and crossbones tattooed on his chest. Because apparently he just spends his whole day dressed like that, and only dons the cape when he's going into action.

See? I told ya!

Sadly, the Iron Skull didn't get to enjoy the costume for very long. Star and Stripes #6 was the last issue because Centaur Publications went out of business the next month.

The DC hero Steel, not John Henry Irons but the World War ll superhero who later became Commander Steel, has a similar origin.

When I first read Steel #1 back in 1978 I thought he was just a WWll-version of The Six Million Dollar Man, with his body being rebuilt with the 1940s equivalent of bionics. But now that I've delved into the Iron Skull and his one panel origin, I would say Steel is much more similar to him than Steve Austin (whether or not Steel creator Gerry Conway intended that).

Steel did not, however, develop telepathy or the ability to fly. Nor did he, thankfully, decide to run around in leather boy shorts.

[whywoulditho]

something about the opening scene to james gunn's superman's teaser trailer showing the indestructable alien superhero in his weakest moment, lying on the snow with blood on his face, trembling from the cold and vincing in pain, is so SO brilliant. it's an immidiate punch in the face to anyone who opened it up to see another rendition of man of steel. and then the beat drop comes right after he ASKS FOR HELP. if the whole movie is made with this kind of philosophy and attention to detail sign me tf up

[thekinslayed]

Humble Servant

summary | Working under the service of king Aemond Targaryen, you were eager to attend to his every need.

pairing | king!aemond targaryen x servant!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral (m), heavy voyeurism, unprotected sex, aemond is in his medieval fuckboy era, squirting, book!aemond-leaning, oral (f), KING AEMOND 😮‍💨

wordcount | 4.2k

note | trying to fight thru the writer's block but this writer's block got hands 😵‍💫 but it won't stope me from being at the forefront of the Aemond's Got Bitches agenda!!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated! (divider graphic is from this website)

As the smoke cleared at the end of the dragons’ dance, Aemond the Kinslayer emerged as the sole victor of the tumultuous war. A brother scarred and poisoned, a half-sister eaten alive, a mother driven to madness. It was clear that the Iron Throne was his to claim. None else was suited for it more than he. His prowess was proven, his wit unmatched, and his dragon indestructible. The one-eyed Targaryen managed to subdue the ravenous Wolf, had the Sea Snake sue for peace before driving his sword through his heart, and sent the pretender’s younglings to forge their chains at the Citadel. With no other forces questioning his claim, Aemond One-Eye made himself King. 

No other Targaryen had come into this much power since Maegor the Cruel, though history would find it befitting for such a cycle to propagate with him.

You were there for it all. From the taking of little Jaehaerys’ head, the return of a burnt king, to the fall of King’s Landing, you were there. The history books would not write your name down in its pages, no, you held no part in it. You were merely a shadow, a humble servant whose head hung low in the presence of nobility. It had always been this way, and it always will be. 

It was a curious thing, wasn’t it? The better part of your lowly life had been spent in the Keep’s walls, just like any other royal, yet you were as significant as a fly on the wall of their lavish tapestries. Where they feasted on the finest game and freshest berries, you ate what was left on their plates, bones and all. Though despite it all, you dared not question your station. 

Any semblance of importance to your name came when you had been tasked with attending to the king’s chambers. The first steps you had taken towards the royal apartments made your tummy feel fluttery, nerves jittery with a rambling agitation.

Despite his status and authority, there was little fuss under the new king’s service. He was clean, tidy, a man of good manners. Aemond let his servants do his work when needed, spending most of his time out of his chambers anyway. And on the off-chance you managed to be in the same vicinity, he would only spare you as little as a blink, or a low grumble of instruction. You were invisible, while he was the center around which your day revolved. Such was the order of things.

It had become customary to keep your head low and your hands busy despite the king’s presence. Be it while he supped, read, or entertained his lady guests. 

The one-eyed king, once a prince, used to be such a stickler for propriety. While Aegon II was known for his ways of women and wine, Aemond was of honor and pride. Such things were beneath him. Until he became king.

With the heavy steel crown seated upon his brow, he’d let himself indulge. Many a woman was invited to warm his bed, be it a servant, a noblewoman… or a bastard witch, according to some. With his power came his freedom from inhibition and the caging rigidity of his self-control. With his glory, Aemond Targaryen had become gluttonous for the ways of the flesh.

“Keep movin’, lass,” Magda grumbled, balancing a hot bucket of water on her hip. This was the last trip of waddling up the stairs to Maegor’s Holdfast for the night, heaving pails for the king’s bath. He liked them particularly hot, fresh off the boil with steam billowing off the copper tub. You, Magda, and two other girls made haste to finish your work, equally eager to be done for the day and to escape the loud thumping coming from the king’s private bedchamber.

“This one’s a loud one, ain’t she?” brown-eyed Ilya snickered, busy with pouring Dornish herbal scented oils into the steaming bath. High-pitched oh, oh, oh!’s sang in rhythm with the bedframe’s pounding, echoed by an occasional deep groan that penetrated through the wooden doors separating the solar and the bedchamber. The lady’s voice only grew higher in pitch, like a wolf howling into the night. This must be the red-haired Tully you passed in the halls, or the Lannister from the feast, you weren’t sure.  

“Must be getting fuckin’ ripped in half,” said a grumpy Magda, clutching her back as she bent to pick up her pail. Her words pulled a giggle from the girls, who continued their work as usual.  You weren’t particularly unbothered like the rest of them, with the hairs on your neck raised from such a scandalous predicament. You strained your ear to hear more of the deeper, manlier grunts mixed into the elevated moans, cheeks steadily warming when you did. It made your gut feel swarmed by something inexplicable, your fingers tingly. You wondered what could it be that made the lady scream so loud in the king’s bed. Jon the stable boy certainly hadn’t made you howl as such on that one regretful night, with both of you dazed from many cups of mead. It was no passionate affair, rather, a blind stumbling in the darkness that ended with both of you rolling in the hay. Sure, it was alright, but it didn’t make you cry out like a banshee. It made you curious. 

With the last pail of water tipped into the tub, you followed the other servants out of the king’s solar. As the door behind you closed, you heard another one open, and it had taken all of your might to keep your head from turning to catch a peek at the silver-haired man.

You really thought yourself better, immune to it all, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Being at an arm’s width of the king’s proclivities had started to bother you, made your blood run hot the moment you stepped foot into his door. It had you seeing him in a different light. His scar and threatening aura may have once frightened you, but it allured you now. With his silky, waist-length hair and that trim waist, he was beautiful in ways that made you question whether he was a real being, or rather one of the Valyrian gods come down on to soil. His prolific skill with a sword was now written into song, but his strength in other endeavors was starting to make itself known. He must be one hell of a man to have all these women singing their songs of pleasure every night in his bed, and your curiosity had grown into a towering beast impossible to endure.

Maegor’s tunnels were less of a secret than the Targaryens ought it to be. The silver-haired royals weren’t the only ones wary of the passage, some servants and staff alike were privy to the winding paths that led to the ins and outs of the Keep. Years of work had granted you such knowledge, and on one restless night, you found yourself taking the sharp corners that led to the royal chambers. You had been dismissed for the day only an hour past, but an itch in your heel had you turning around and slipping into the dark passageways before anyone could see. 

It seemed you were not the first to find yourself in such a place, evident by the holes poked into the thin plaster of the king’s bedroom walls, somewhere in between the ornate carvings of his bedframe’s headboard. Some other invisible soul had stood where you did now, curious for a single peek. 

These might have been from Aegon II’s time, or Jaehaerys’. Certainly not Viserys I’s.

You couldn’t tell if it was the red-haired Tully girl or the golden Lannister. Your position granted you only a view of her lower half, and in between her thighs, was a head of silver hair. The girl was squirming like a worm on his bed, legs messing the linens you had smoothed out just this morn while a hand gripped his silver tresses. 

“What did I say?” you heard the king speak. Just barely, with his face still buried in her cunt. The grip on his hair was released, dainty hand disappeared into the periphery to presumably grab onto the sheets instead.

He didn’t like his hair touched. What a shame. 

The sight was utterly debauched. Silver tresses swayed as he nodded his head to run his tongue down her slit, which pleased the woman, evident from the mewl that echoed through the night air. Her sounds could equal that of a mistress in the Streets of Silk, and you wondered how a proper lady could know how to moan like that. 

You could see his cheeks hollow and relax rhythmically as he sucked, and sucked. Something in your belly flipped in a fluster, and your core started to tingle, as though you could feel the phantom licks of the hot, wet muscle prodding into your center. Despite better judgment, you stayed stuck on your feet, thighs starting to rub together the longer you watched. 

Supple thighs turned dimpled in his large palms. For a second, you could almost feel its warmth, trailing from the back of your thighs to wrapping around the span of your neck. The ache in your cunt was slowly becoming too much to bear, tears of slick leaving your skin damp with need. You clenched your skirts in your fists, fighting back the urge to lead them to your heat. 

The lady was humping the king’s face now, and my, what a sight it was. His aquiline nose would surely make for a good seat to slide your nubbin on back and forth. Gods, what a lucky woman. You haven’t even caught a glimpse of his handsome face once, still ardent in his efforts to devour her whole. 

You caught the way his fingers replaced where his tongue had been, his focus shifting onto her pearl. This drove the lady to near madness, her voice rising just as the other one did. With his hand steadily scissoring in and out of her, thumb drawing circles on her pearl, the one-eyed king straightened to his full height. It was then a gasp that escaped your lips before you could stop it, but remained unheard against other sounds of the night. 

His cock stood erect in attention, flushed red in the amber glow of the candlelit room. It slapped against his taut, sculpted abdomen. He was chiseled in places you hadn’t seen any other man could be. Striated, sinewy muscles that flexed with every movement. 

By the Seven, this man was a god.

Your knees nearly buckled the moment he grabbed hold of his cock. His stroking was soft compared to the erratic thrusting of his other hand into the woman’s cunt. Her hips lifted off the mattress and her back arched like a cat. Mewls were turning into sobs as she teetered on something tremendous. Your palms were sweaty, as was the back of your neck, and your chest started to heave beside your comprehension. What was he doing to her? She sounded like a woman possessed. It was clear he had an intent for his sheer intensity. 

The answer came in a shower of clear liquid coming from her core, splattering on his muscled abdomen. The king looked as triumphant as he did in battle, an egotistic smirk dimpling his elegant face. Your eyes widened in shock. Never have you experienced something like that, or have even heard of it. This man might be an actual sorcerer… or a god. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praised her. His low drawl buzzed straight into your gut, and the unanswered tingle in your own cunny had become impossible to ignore. With the image of what you had just witnessed fresh in your memory, you scurried down the steps back to the servant’s quarters.

The ache in your arm come the morrow would hinder your scrubbing of stone tile, but your desire would be temporarily satiated… multiple times.

Huffing, you dusted the last of the king’s books on his shelves. You moved to wipe down the various items around the chambers— dragon figures, the brass Seven-Pointed Star by the windowsill, keepsakes that held slivers of who he was.  You made quick work of starting the fire next, he would want the hearth going by the time he supped. As you kneeled before the fireplace, throwing in the fresh-cut wood the woodsman had brought in, the door to the royal solar slammed open.

An angry king storming into the room had you by surprise, jolting straight to your feet to give an ungraceful curtsy. Your heart hammered thunderously at such a sudden startlement, though it failed to cease at the realization of being held alone with the one-eyed king. He eyed your trembling form, a lone gaze so sharp that it rendered you unable to hold your chin up.

“Y-your grace,” you stuttered, tongue slippery with nerves. “I-I am starting on the fire, my king. It would only be just a moment.”

With a mere grunt and a wave of his hand, king Aemond left you to do your work. He was grumbling under his breath, small fragments like ‘lot of fools’ and ‘insipid questioning’ barely audible to your ear. You suspected the discussion with the Small Council hadn’t gone well. It only took little to subject the king to anger, this you learned in your time under his service. What may ticked him off could have been something of such little consequence, though, with His Grace, it never was. 

With a fire successfully ignited, a pleasant warmth began to spread into the space. Satisfied, you lifted yourself off your knees, brushing the flecks of ash from your skirts. You would have to clean that come morn.

Having completed all the work needed before supper, you quickly gathered your basket of items, willing yourself to ignore the man sat with his legs splayed open as he pored over the newest parchments. After heaving the bin onto your hip, you turned to leave with another respectful bow.

“Wait,” he suddenly spoke, stopping you in your tracks.

Wide-eyed, you swiftly turned to look at the silver-haired Targaryen, whose good eye was now lifted from the letter and, oddly enough, directed onto you. 

“My king?” you asked. “Was there anything else I may do for you?”

He was silent for a moment, calculating gaze merely stared back at you. The tips of your ears warmed in an instant under the foreign light of his attention. You swore you saw the corner of his lips lifting, but it returned to his feline pout in a blink.

“You forgot something.”

His words caught you in a stupor. You looked at him in confusion, unsure of what he meant. It didn’t help that he looked utterly ravishing with the embroidered leather doublet he wore. He looked the best in black.

His good eye glanced to the floor at the dirtied rag left at the foot of the table, the realization hitting you embarrassingly late. “Oh! Forgive me,” you expressed, quickly placing your basket back onto the floor to grab the forgotten cloth. Your skin prickled when his eye followed your every step, staring as you bent over to retrieve the rag. 

“How long have you been a servant of mine, girl?” he asked, taking you again by surprise. 

“Since the coronation, your grace,” you answered, gripping the fabric tight as you forced yourself to keep your composure in your king’s presence. Aemond merely hummed in response.

“You must know all of what I need then? What pleases me and what does not? It is the least I expect for someone serving me for this long,” he questioned, tilting his head with a raised brow. You nodded your head meekly, the entirety of your face warming, though clearly not caused by the fire.

“Magda has taught us well, your grace. Whatever else you require of me I shall be happy to fulfill,” you informed him, an eager glint in your eye that earned you another hum from your king.

“Good,” he said. “On your knees then.”

Your mouth gaped like a fish, caught in shock at the sudden command. Incoherent stammers were your only response, baffled mind unable to make sense of such progression. “Your grace? I—“

“You asked me what I require of you. Would you deny your king of his needs? I do not like repeating myself, girl.”

Dropping the cloth back to the floor, you made your way in between his thighs, descending onto your knees. You stared, wide-eyed like a doe, as he studied you under the tip of his nose. Long, wispy lashes moved with his every blink and it was then you realized the gods may have some pity on you after all. The cheap linen of your skirts was crumpled into your sweaty fists, breath shuddering when he started to pull on the laces of his breeches. Time moved all too slowly. The thumping in your chest started back up while you waited in anticipation. 

The breath hitched in your throat couldn’t be helped when his large, calloused hand pulled out his cock. It was pretty, even more appealing up close despite still being half-mast. With a hold on his base, Aemond nodded his head at you in urging. 

Gulping down your nerves, you took his slowly hardening tip into your mouth. He had a certain taste about him, a slight saltiness, perhaps bitterness, but hardly unpleasant. Slow, steady bobs of your head stiffened his length into full arousal. From his pubic bone, Aemond’s hand traveled to the coif on the top of your head, pulling the linen away. Freed locks cascaded over your back, a warmth settling on your occiput as your king gently guided you up and down his shaft. You hollowed your cheeks when you took all of him in, earning a good grunt from your king.

“Must not be the first cock you sucked, then?” he mentioned, smooth voice taking on a rasp. With your mouth full, you could only look at him under your lashes. Surely, the king had no intent to hear about young Henry and the afternoons you spent messing about in his father’s shed back home. You may be out of practice, but you were eager to please.

The reason for his sudden interest baffled you. Had you known, you would have taken the time to make yourself presentable. You were coated with a sheen of sweat after having worked all day, your clothes were a mess, and Hells, you hadn’t so much washed the parts that needed to be washed!

Your bobbing soon took up a faster pace. You kept your hands still glued to yourself despite wanting to grasp at his muscular thighs, barely remembering his preference from the other night past. He seemed to be pleased, much to your delight, with his head thrown back over the edge of his seat and his good eye closed shut. Filled with renewed courage, you directed your tongue back to his tip, while your hand stroked the rest of his shaft. The sounds you have yearned to hear soon floated into your ear, soft grunts leaving his grace’s lips. A particularly ardent lick over his cockhead had his length twitching in your hold. It filled you with pride, as well as a budding desire bubbling in your tummy. There was no doubt your cunny would be wet with slick if one took a peek. It had started shedding its tears of arousal the moment your knees hit the floor. 

All too sudden, the one-eyed king pulled you off his cock, ordering you to lose your smallclothes. You had done so in haste, nimble fingers tugging on the ribbons before he hoisted you onto his lap. From then on, you were at his mercy. He speared you onto his cock with no hesitation, bouncing you up and down swiftly. There was no moment spared for you to relish in the sensation of your king breaching your walls, though you found you had little complaints. 

You were starting to understand how he had all those women crying out for him in his bed. He was all-consuming, ravishing every bit of you until you were reduced to nothing but putty. He rendered you witless, out of body. You moved by his accord, rode him the way he liked. Before you knew it, lewd sounds soon began to spill from your lips, sounds you had never heard yourself let out.

“M-my king…” you mewled.

“Wet like the fucking whore you are,” Aemond groaned, delivering a smack to your rear that made you squeal. 

With his face closer to you than it ever will be for the rest of your life, the urge for a kiss couldn’t be helped. You dipped your head to chase his lips, but he turned his head to the side with a grunt. Firm hands soon pulled you off his lap, turning you around. 

The new position had his cock reaching even deeper into your walls. You held onto the armrests of the seat for dear life, struggling to keep up with the brutal pace your king demanded. The plump flesh of your arse met his hips in a wet smack, the sound filling the vast, quiet room. Years of working on your feet blessed you with strong thighs that held you up with every bounce.

Never in your wildest wishes did the fruit of your labors include getting fucked by your king. Was this what your life has amounted to? Would this be the only moment where you were granted a sliver of value in your measly unimportance? Shame should be what you felt, but you hardly had room for it, not when your king’s cock felt too good.

It was evident he was nearing his end, and you were barreling straight towards yours. His grip shifted to take hold of the crooks of your elbows, using you for leverage to lift his hips to meet yours. How deeply you wished to catch a glimpse of his blissed-out face, but that would mean displeasing him. You couldn’t afford to do so, not when you were teetering on the edge of your pleasure. 

Your release sneaked upon you with no other forewarning. You came with a loud cry, spilling all over his length. If Aemond held any regard for your high, he made no show of it, continuing to drill into you to chase his. The tight spasming of your walls pulled harsher grunts from his lips, and harsher thrusts. Soon enough, he was pulling out of you, painting your lower back with his spend. Thick, pearly royal speed dripped down onto your rear, warm against your flesh. Without any other moment to waste, the king pulled you off his lap, dismissing you with a breathless huff.

“That will be all. You may take your leave.”

“Where the hell have you been? This food’s about to get damn cold and I don’t need the king throwin’ it back in my face because of you!” Magda berated, rightfully angered with your tardy arrival to the kitchen. You were out of breath from rushing out of the king’s chambers, cheeks still flushed like a ripe berry. 

“Sorry, Magda. His grace’s requests held me back,” you apologized with a sheepish smile. The secret to your special service to the king would have to remain a secret, a blissful encounter you were sure to look back on with satisfaction. 

The older maid regarded you with a displeased look, before pointing to the dishes needed to be brought up to his grace’s chambers. “Just as long we keep the pretty boy pleased, aye?” 

The heat in your chest returned at her words, settling into a tingle in your fingertips. You smiled at her, eyes glinting with an eagerness that almost made the head servant raise suspicion. There was no doubt what you would do to keep your king happy. With his satisfaction, came yours.

“Aye,” you responded, nodding in agreement.

In the days that followed, you worked with an enthusiasm akin to the spark you had when you first arrived at the Keep. You spent time ensuring every nook and cranny was spotless, the king’s boots properly polished, and his bath rightfully steaming the moment he requested it. 

It would soon prove to be a foolish endeavor, but you held out hope for him to call on you once more. Perhaps he would take you on his bed, just like he did with other women. Such hopes were crushed when your king barely spared you a glance, just like he always did. In your boldness, you had even tried to meet his eye on the off-chance he came into his chambers while you were there, which earned nothing but a sharp scolding from Magda. His last exchange hadn’t even been filled with any words, but merely in the form of a steaming cup of moon tea and a few silver dragons awaiting you in your quarters.

Soon, you were reduced into a shadow once more, a figure unseen in the king’s eye. Your excitement wearied down into a dismayed chagrin, yet still, your part never changed. It was all a cycle, you realized. And with the arrival of a comely Baratheon girl into court, you were back to ignoring the pounding in the king’s walls. 

[xsister-serpent]

The Offer

Summary: Y/N, a Kryptonian, encounters Conquest, a Viltrumite warrior, on a earth. They engage in a tense exchange, testing each other’s mental strength and resolve. Despite their differences, an unexpected bond forms between them, leading to a new alliance.

Warnings: Cursing/ MDNI 18+/

Info: Words 2,554 / Author's Note at end /

Y/N had felt it before she had seen it. A ripple in the air. Not like a Kryptonian. Not like anything from this planet.

As the figure slowed, its silhouette took shape—a man, clad in white armor with deep gray accents, the sigil on his chest foreign but unmistakably worn with pride. A Viltrumite.

Y/N brow furrowed. She had read about them, heard whispers from her own people patrolling deep space. A warrior race, a civilization built on conquest. Y/N had fought many powerful beings before, but this was different. The moment their eyes met, she understood.

This man wasn’t powered by the sun. He wasn’t drawing from an external source. The strength, the durability, the sheer presence—it was all just him.

The Viltrumite hovered, analyzing her with the same intensity. A smirk tugged at the stranger’s lips, as if he had come to the same realization.

"You’re not human," the Viltrumite finally said, voice rich with confidence.

You glanced up at the older viltrumite and taking a stance.

“Neither are you.”

You could see his dead eye lock onto you with a sort of curiousness.

He chuckles to himself as he hovers around inspecting you.

"You really do have guts don’t you? Most aliens would be shaking in their shoes just being in the presence of a Viltrumite." He circles you around inspecting your body language and physique, the way you stood, the way you talked.

"So, what’s your name?” He asks in a mocking, condescending tone. His eyebrow raised as he continues to circle around you like he’s trying to find a weak spot.

You exhaled slowly and rose up to met him, his face looked a bit shocked to say the least.

“I’m not human..” You answered him meeting his steel gaze with your own, “It’s..Y/N.”

His eyes go wide as he takes a closer look at you, your body, your facial features, everything. His steel gray eyes lock into your own gaze.

"You’re an alien aren’t you?" He asks, his tone serious and mocking to say the least, his thick white mustache moving as he does so. “What is it? Martian? No..” He circles around you again, his eyes narrowing as he studies you.

You allowed him to observe me but you watched him closely, your eyes going to his partially missing arm.

“Kryptonian,” You answered him, “Our..people go way back.”

He raised an eyebrow, his mocking and condescending tone gone now as he studied you closely. "Kryptonian?" He says with a scoff, "I have to admit, you’re the first one I’ve met."

He circles around once more observing your Kryptonian physique and your powerful stance, his eyes landing on your clenched fist.

"I’ve heard of your kind." He says, his tone slightly changing as he does so. "Powerful… indestructible."

“That I am,” You replied watching him more intently now, “And what is your name?”

He stops in front of you, his feet hovering just above the ground. "My name’s Conquest." He says, his tone now slightly different than before.

He looks you up and down one more time, his furrowed eyebrow now relaxed as he observes you even closer.

Your walls didn’t go down but there was a sort of..stillness between the pair of you.

“Conquest,” You replied back.

That wasn’t a name. Your eyes went to his flesh scared face his one white eye and other brown shining almost curiously under the sky.

He stood there just staring at you intently, the stillness in between the two of you almost deafening.

The way you said his name sent a shiver down his spine, he was used to people being afraid of him, scared of him, running from him…

But you.

You weren’t like that. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something different about you. Conquest’s face hardens but his gaze relaxes as his eyes meet yours.

You notice it was only him here..

A lone soldier..

“They only sent one??” You questioned him, “There’s usually more..”

He smirks to himself as he folds his arms across his wide barrel chest. "You’re a smart one aren’t you?" He say with a scoff, his smirk still on his face.

He looks around the area, taking in your surroundings as his smirk fades. "It’s just me. They didn’t think they needed anyone else… but now I’m not so sure." He says with a chuckle.

You rose a brow, folding yours arms as seeing him smirk??

“Huh,” You mused hovering in mid air, “I can’t harm you, you know that right? The truce between your people and mine.”

It was a royal decree of sorts since the first war. Killing two powerful races with mindless bloodshed was a waste.

He rolls his eyes as his smirk fades away, his expression turning serious.

"Of course I know." He says with a scoff and a sigh, "It’s a mutual feeling I’m sure every Viltrumite has when they find out that a Kryptonian is around."

His eyes scan you top to bottom once again, "You’re different though, I’ll give you that much."

You tilted your head with a slight grin.

“Careful sounds like you’re trying to woo me there, Conquest.”

His face stiffens as his eyes widen slightly, he didn’t expect that.

"Woo you?" He asks with a scoff, "I’m not trying to ‘woo’ anyone. Especially not a Kryptonian."

He folds his arms across his chest, but his expression softens slightly as he looks at you.

"Don’t get any funny ideas."

You zoned on your hearing however as his heart was beating A bit quicker.

“And yet..your heart is beat a bit more faster.”

You watched him again as your gaze at his white eye once more.

He looks a bit flustered as you mention his heartbeat. He never expected anyone, let alone a Kryptonian, to be able to pick up on that.

He composes himself as his expression hardens once more, "I have no idea what you’re talking about." He says defensively, but his face gives away a hint of a blush.

He sees you looking at his white eye and averts his gaze for a moment. "What’s with you anyways? Why are you staring at my eye like that?“

“I’m curious about you, I’ve only seen two viltrumites in my years here. One being Nolan and the other his son..but you..” You paused as your curiosity peak again.

Why was taking a curious to this one..this older man..

He stands there in slight confusion as you say that. He doesn’t expect you to be curious about him of all people.

He feels a slight rush of pride, knowing that you’re taking a curiosity to him, but he keeps his guard up nonetheless.

"You’re taking a curiosity to me?" He asks with a scoff, "Why exactly? I’m just another Viltrumite. There’s nothing special about me. "

“No, your scars say different..” You spoke softly..a bit more softly than intended to.

He’s taken aback for a moment, he didn’t expect that sort of reply from you. He stands there for a moment, his expression softening slightly, before hardening once more.

"My scars?” He repeats, his voice a bit more quieter than usual. “You’re curious about my scars?”

He doesn’t know what exactly, but there was something about the way you said it. He’s felt…seen.

"Why? They’re just scars." He says, trying to brush it off, but his tone betraying him.

You wanted to take a small pace forward. But he looked, skittish now. Like a wounded animal. You cleared your throat and looked at him once more.

“A testimony,” You replied.

Your attention the went to your home feeling a sort of sadness, “You mean to destroy this planet?"

His face hardens once more, he sees the sadness in your face as you say that last sentence.

"I do what must be done." He says with confidence, but at the same time, a certain melancholy to his voice now.

He sees you looking at the house and understands what’s going through your mind right now, a memory resurfacing in his own mind.

"...for my people." He says, this time with a much more resolute tone

A tightness came over your chest as you looked at your house once more. Sure You didn't have emotional ties to this planet, in fact it was all going to hell sooner than later.

"I..I have no where else to go," You admitted looking away.

He watches you from the corner of his eye, his expression remains stone cold as he tries his best not to let his curiosity take the best of him.

He turns his stare away as a flash of guilt washes over him for a split second, but he quickly shakes it off.

"Why do you care so much about this planet?" He asks with a cold tone in his voice, "What does this waste of a planet have to offer?"

A light scoff left you as you furrowed your brow.

"I don't have emotional ties to this planet, I just finally settled into a home."

It's not like You were the last kryptonian in the universe but you kept yourself hidden, You managed to keep up the walls around yourself and now here was this viltrumite, destroying the foundation.

"It gets..tiresome starting again," You mumbled.

He looks at you for a moment, the emotion evident in your expression as you speak.

"You're tired, aren't you?" He asks with a stern tone, but his eyes are much softer than his voice.

"I can relate to that." He continues, this time a more empathetic tone to his voice, "But I have a duty to my people."

He steps back a bit, giving you some space.

"I can give you a choice. You can join me, or you can stay here and let this planet die."

My face collapsed in almost a shock. Conquest did not hold back, his attitude and stature matched that much.

"You let join you?" You asked him, "As what? A pet, a slave???"

It was suspicious enough that a viltrumite would even offer Kryptonian this.

He lets out a small chuckle as you say that, a bit of humor in his tone as he speaks.

"A slave?" He asks with a scoff, "No, not a slave. A mate."

He continues, "You've proven yourself to be worthy of my attention. I don't often offer this choice to people, but I am offering it to you. It's a great honor to be given this choice, not many get it."

It had clicked as you understood what he meant. He wanted..you, as companion..or in his words. A mate..

"You certainly are forward aren't you?" You replied as you looked at your home once more then to him.

He nods slowly, his expression now a bit softer as he sees you considering his offer.

"I am a Viltrumite, I am direct and to the point. I know what I want and I try to get it as quickly as possible. And what I want right now, is you."

He folds his arms, waiting for you to consider your options. It’s obvious he’s serious about this, a rare thing for a Viltrumite to be sure.

"I see," You answered as he hovered a bit closer to you.

With a exhale you held out your hand, "Very well."

His smirk turns into a small smile as he sees you hold out your hand. He hovers down a bit closer to you, his own hand out to grab yours.

He takes your hand in his own, his grip firm but not too tight. There’s a sense of gentleness in his touch.

“Deal.” He says with a nod, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity you haven’t seen before.

It was almost uncharacteristic feeling his touch over my hand, but it quickly left. You composed yourself, "Do you mind if I leave the planet so you can..do what you do?"

He let out a scoff and a chuckle as he let go of your hand, his hand dropping to his side.

"No, I don’t mind if you leave the planet." He said with a smirk, "I’ll be done here soon enough, then I’ll come find you."

With a nod as you flew a paces back.

"See you up there."

With a sonic boom you shot up into the atmosphere feeling your clothes burn in through the layer until you were only in a bra and black boxers briefs.

"Shit," You sighed in annoyance looking at your pale skin. You watched stoically as the planet below being..well..desolated. Soon enough you saw a figure appear, it was Conquest. His face red and bloodied. That wasn't his blood..not in slightest.

Conquest flew up into space, his white Viltrumite armor stained crimson and his face bloody. He saw you waiting for him, his intense gaze fixated on you.

A sense of relief washed over him as he spotted you, his tense shoulders relaxing a bit. He took a deep breath and hovered over to you, his eyes boring into yours.

"You actually stayed, hm?" He said with a scoff, a smirk appearing on his face. "I thought you'd leave and I'd have to chase you down."

You made your lips into a fine line and glanced at him, "I'm not really in the mood to be chased. Especially like this. Do you have a cape I can wear? My human clothes burned up.."

He looks you up and down, noticing the absence of your clothes. He let out a scoff and a chuckle, amused at your current state.

"A cape?" He repeats, his smirk widening as he hovers in front of you. "Sure, I have a cape you can wear."

He takes off his now bloodied stained Viltrumite cape, now only wearing his white spandex suit. He hands it over to you, his gaze still on you.

You took the battle worn cape fastening the cape over your shoulders.

"Thanks."

You glanced at the now desolated planet with a soft sigh. You knew where you would follow him next. It was a place that wouldn't entirely welcomed you but not entirely shunned you. Planet Viltrum.

He watched you wrap the cape around yourself, his gaze still fixed on you. There was a strange feeling in his chest as he looked at you.

He followed your gaze to planet Viltrum and let out a scoff.

"You know where we’re going, don’t you?" He asked, his tone slightly different than before. He knew it was his home, but he didn't know how you'd feel about it.

You nodded as clutched onto the cape seeing that planet in the far off distance. You inhaled a breath of courage.

"You promise to not let them break the treaty?" You questioned him, searching for any hint of dishonesty.

He turns his gaze to you, his eyes locking onto yours. There's a seriousness and a sense of determination in his gaze.

"I promise I won't let them break the treaty," He says firmly and without hesitation. "You have my word."

He hovers closer to you, his white spandex suit almost touching the white Viltrumite cape wrapped around you.

With a exhale of unease you followed his lead, keeping yourself close to him as we flew toward planet viltrum.

You landed on the cold steel. The planet was beautiful not doubt, clean, untouched, but cold..unfeeling. A group of viltrumites gathered their cold gazes landing on you then Conquest. Like a part of the sea all the viltrumites parting making a path for Conquest. Not just out of respect but of..fear.

A.N: Well You guys asked for this and here it is. I know everyone wanted to have this. Maybe smut for a possible part 2? Photos I found on google and gif found on here.

Banner by: bernardsbendystraws

[daylighted]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤSHIELD ! READER.

meet indy . . . properly, because for the entirety of her life, she's been a pretty prop to the only supe capable of handling her, and nothing else. frederick vought was a cruel man, but he was intelligent beyond measure, and with soldier boy out of commission, it was the perfect time for the iconic shield of soldier boy's to be recycled & reused . . . until an even more outlandish idea came into the doctor's mind. a little compound v and a lot of determination ended up with a shield robbed of its durability & an indestructible girl — just in time to put soldier boy back in his place.

WOMAN OF STEEL !! the name indy comes from the word indestructible, the one factor that ben asked for in a shield constructed for him. man could tear and bleed, even if it did not debilitate him. this was a trait also was translated in the scientific creation of indy; the girl created from the shield was impossible to break, or to mar.

WORDS LIKE BULLETS !! indy has been under the legend's careful & watchful eye since the death of frederick vought, not trusted to be let loose as one of vought international's esteemed superheroes, or amongst the civilians themselves. it is not confirmed, but theorized by the legend himself, that indy's "unrivaled cruelty" and "lack of compassion" are not her fault, but instead soldier boy's, for fostering an aggressive environment that effected more than just the people surrounding him, including his titanium shield.

BATTERED & BEATEN !! it is no secret that the shield, in soldier boy's possession and care, endured abuse like nothing else. deflecting bullets, and superhuman fists, and abilities that transcended anything human beings should be capable of. a lot of indy's brash aggression stems from the defense mechanism triggered in life-or-death situations; capable of handling the hurt but not immune to the human instinct to flinch away from hurt after everything she'd been through.

LEGEND IN THE MAKING !! how indy was created is something that isn't known. the main scientist handling her fruition has long been dead, and the scientists who assisted in it are, if not sworn to secrecy, too old to recall the experiments and testing that went on in the original vought laboratories. though, there are some clear indicators in how it effected indy, in the way she flinches at the mention of doctors and testing.

A LIFE WITHOUT LOVE !! there's no surprise in the fact that indy and ben would clash. indy went through hell in soldier boy's care, and then some more in the creation of her human identity. it was thought and expected that the two would get along considering that, back in the day, ben went nowhere without her on his arm, but the trauma rooted itself deep into both of them, and knowing nothing else, the two end up in arms more often than not.

THE GIRL IS A GUN !! it is already a lot for the boys to handle on their own: one of the world's first supes, and the human personified version of that supe's shield, now under their supervision and care while they work to dismantle vought. it is only amplified and made worse by utter dismay evoked between indy and ben whenever they are in the same room together. the only thing that they can do is hope that vought gets caught in the destruction the two make together, because there is no telling if their relationship will sour or sweeten with time.

—ㅤㅤㅤBROKEN PIECES !! ㅤ ๋࣭ ㅤ ⭑ ㅤ ⋆ ㅤ ⭒ ㅤ ˚ ㅤ ｡ ㅤ ⋆

. . . or, the chronological timeline of shield!reader. find the full shield, including shards, in all of its glory here ㅤ — ㅤdiscuss shield!reader nation here !! taglist for indy coming soon.

shield!reader interactive version coming soon, only found on c.ai.

01. BITTER REUNIONS 02. ULTIMATE REVENGE 03. LIVE & LET DIE

—ㅤㅤㅤSHARDS OF TITANIUM !! ㅤ ๋࣭ ㅤ ⭑ ㅤ ⋆ ㅤ ⭒ ㅤ ˚ ㅤ ｡ ㅤ ⋆

. . . or, the pinnacles of thoughts and headcanons about shield!reader. join the discussion in the link above !!

ㅤㅤㅤ⛨ TBD.

notes. baby!reader's impact has gone global. everyone say thank you baby for all of the incredible things inspired by her & thank u dahlia for making this post bc it actually about killed me trying to find funsie words for all of these things ok. anyways biggest shoutout to @theosaurous for planting this idea in my mind i hope u love the flower it will grow into.

again layout inspired by my pookie twin @deansbeer <3 !!! bc as hard as it is every time it EATS every time.

tags. @titsout4jackles @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @jensenacklesballsack @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra + all other soldier boy lovers if u want added / taken off pls lmk !

[maromarlade]

Superman 100% has the worst pain tolerance in the JL

He's "The Man of Steel", practically indestructible, he doesn't get injured during battle because not even the mightiest weapon can leave a dent on him without the help of kryptonite

So one day, after prolonged exposure to a specific type of kryptonite (or some other reason), Superman is left weak, he's as mortal as ever.

And then. He stubs his toe

Usually it wouldn't bother him, how could it? But now, now he yells in pain, hopping on one foot while gently cradling the one he stubbed, tears prickling his waterline.

Bruce just watches,

Watches 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯 whine about stubbing his toe on the leg of a table

He sighs, long, tired and deeply in love

God. He loves Supes so much, his indestructible boyfriend with the world's worst pain tolerance

[lay-z]

Just a sneak peek of a concept that has taken root in my brain.

TF-141 x fem!vampire!Reader. Aye?

"If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this my way, sunshine. Am I being clear?"

Sunshine. You don't know if you should scoff or laugh about the pet name. Is it because you're anything but a ray of sunshine or because it's one of the few things that can actually harm you? A reminder that you're not indestructible perhaps?

"Very clear," you purr, adding, "Johnathon."

Captain Price wrinkles his nose at that and you find it incredibly endearing, the way he both hates and desires you; knowing about the latter, because you can clearly pick up the tiniest hint of arousal in his human scent.

"Rule number one," he grumbles, tightening his crossed arms over his bulky chest, "I'm sir, Captain or Price to you from now on. Rule number two, you answer to me and you'll learn to respect me. Especially in front of my men. Understood?"

You regard him in silence for a moment, gazing up at him with sharp, ruby eyes while you're sitting perfectly still in the chair in front of his large and very cluttered mahogany desk. A desk so messy, it makes your fingers itch to clean it up.

"Honestly, I feel like you'll only come up with more rules and I should probably write all of this down," you retort, obviously wanting to taunt him as you feign looking for a pencil on his desk. "I have terrible memory, you know?"

You never forget anything and you couldn't if you tried. It's both a blessing and another curse that's part of your condition. A side effect, one could say.

And you anticipate him slamming his mammoth palm on the desk with an exasperated growl even before it connects with the wood with a loud smack. You heard the spike of his pulse, the way his muscles flexed and synapses in his brain fired when his temperament made him react to your teasing.

Captain Price is such a prime male human example; being with him almost makes you feel giddy in a way that you haven't felt in decades, and this whole arrangement that is slowly starting to come together only adds to the long forgotten feeling of excitement.

"This is all a bloody joke to you, innit? Meanwhile, I'm over here, taking a huge fucking risk turning to someone like you for help!"

Your eyes zero in on the thick vein in his flushed neck as he yells at you, throbbing and alive, and you can feel your mouth water with saliva as the urge to bite and feed on him, to make him yours, starts growing in your chest cavity.

As you let out a soft, breathy laugh, completely unbothered by his outburst that probably has his soldiers cowering, you flash him a charming smile. "Pardon me," you chuckle softly and relax back into your chair, "I'll be good now, Captain."

Captain Price narrows his steel blue eyes at you suspiciously as he slowly lowers himself back into his office chair and the old leather creaks under his weight.

"I highly doubt that, sunshine," he sighs gruffly, rubbing a hand over his tired face before dropping it on the desk again, glaring at you once more. "But I'll take my chances with you."

"You want your little Sergeant back, don't you?" You ask rhetorically, because this is why you're here, why he brought you back all the way from Urzikstan to the UK after you'd stumbled into the scene, had your hungry self been lured in by the thick scent of blood and death that day.

The Captain stiffens in his seat at the mention of Soap, the man who got captured by their enemy after being shot and left behind in some tunnel.

You don't need a verbal answer from him to know that you're right.

"Exactly," you coo, letting out a little laugh. Giddy. Excited. Just happy to be involved, honestly.

" and I can bring him back. No biggie."

[doctorslippery]

[splooosh]

“maybe”

Jerry Ordway

[h8aaz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . .

steel intelligence — ❝ HELMET .ᐟ READER ❞

★ meet star . . . she was originally the protector of soldier boy's very violent, very impulsive, very high brain—sitting over his head and shielding him from attacks upon his cranium. her name comes from the gold star that sat directly in the middle of her hunter green form, right above the eagle with open wings to view soldier boy's matching colored eyes.

shimmering n shining ! . . . star always makes it known that she's entered the room—unintentionally, of course. the miniscule gold flakes scattered across her skin catches the light in every direction, and if she turns too much, she could probably blind someone. doesn't help that she has one of the prettiest and brightest smiles possibly known to man.

brains of the operation ! . . . when she was transformed into a human by vought, she was given more knowledge than what she had gathered from soldier boy, seeing as he was borderline fried every second of the day. due to this hyper-intelligence, she's very calculated, contrasting to her gruff supe's impulsiveness. her planning and his disobedience causes too many arguments for the boys to handle—but she always wins at the end of the day.

dearest ben ! . . . she was the first part of his suit to be finished, meaning she's spent more time dealing with his brash nature than the rest of his vought-made suit. she knows how to deal with him more than anyone, knows more about him than anyone, more than he'd like to admit. despite her past memories as his helmet, and the major mistreatment that came with being an inanimate object owned by him, she loves him. she never stopped, even when she was told he was 'killed' by the russians (she never believed that for a second). but ben loves her back. and when he told her, she began to rant about how the beginning of their feelings came from some weird attachment issue from their past together, and that they should acknowledge that; but he got fed up so fast, saying she was spewing "made up shit" and excusing his behavior with "i'm not a fuckin' pussy, star. i don't get attached to shit, that's fucking stupid."

she's the woman ! . . . star is one of the few good things to come out of vought. she's a natural protector, indestructible because of her past form, insanely smart (not sister sage smart, but damn near close enough), and she's the perfect, most loving companion anyone could ever ask for. she's there when you need her, and even when you say you don't, she's still in your corner rooting for you. she's the opposite ben never openly wanted but constantly craved in secret, and now she's here, and she's real.

READ STAR'S NOTES !

coming soon . . .

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . okay this is my last !reader (for now??) bc i'm at SIX READERS LMFAOO like i need to be stopped someone shut off my brain PLEASE!!

once again, CREDS TO @daylighted FOR CREATING BABY!READER AND THE OBJECTS!READER UNIVERSE!! love u sm dahlia 🩷🩷

layout inspo from @titsout4jackles !!

special tags: @sunsbaby @starzify @soldiersgirl @bejeweledinterludes @littlesoulshine @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bluemerakis @j2archives @legalmente-loca @immodestly-marina

added tags: @lunaleah

dividers made by me !!

© 𝐇𝟖𝐀𝐀𝐙 — don't copy or repost without MY permission!!

[frownyalfred]

I see a ton of stuff in canon where Bruce has to react to Clark’s death (or him dying, or gravely injured). But as fun as that is I am hungry for the opposite. They are both indestructible in their own way, and I need, NEED, to see how the supposed Man of Steel reacts when he has to learn just how mortal his boyfriend is. And so I humbly ask: Know any good fics?

Porridge :)

[stroodlenoodles]

Termina Characters as Fountain Pens

Starting with Daan he'd be a Waterman Hémisphère, it's fancy but not obnoxiously so

Abella is a Kaweco Steel Sport, which is basically indestructible

O'saa is a Montblanc Meisterstück (the limited edition 'Around the World in 80 Days' pen) purely because the patterns remind me of his jewellery + clothes

Olivia is a Faber-Castell Ambition Coconut, the mix of wood + chrome made sense to me

Karin is a Pelikan Souveran M1000 Renaissance Brown because OF COURSE she had to be one from the brand named after a bird lol

Pav is a Platinum #3776 Century, it's in the colour laurel green which represents victory (pretty ironic for him)

Marcoh is a Gravitas Stainless Steel Sentry because oh lawd it hefty (it weighs 84 grams!)

Levi is a Pilot V-Pen which are known to be disposable, therefore linking with his life as a child soldier. Sorry buddy...

Marina is a Sailor Pro Gear Fairy Tale in the colour Grateful Crane, mostly for vibes

Samarie is a Parker IM Achromatic Matt Black, it's literally tall, dark and skinny just like her

Tanaka is a Nakaya Heki-tamenuri, it's designed for everyday use (perfect for a business man)

Henryk is a Pilot Metropolitan, looks fancy but actually pretty reasonable

August is a Parker Centennial, vintage type

As for Caligura....

[babyangelsky]

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 9

Holy shit I don't think I have ever felt more relieved watching the penultimate episode of a Thai BL than I did this week. I was expecting doom, I was expecting gloom, and while both were absolutely present, we did not linger there.

This is just my opinion but to me that alone is proof of how much Mame has grown as a writer because for a second there I was fearing another Don't Say No situation.

BUT THIS AIN'T ABOUT THAT LET'S YAP ABOUT MICROEXPRESSIONS

I need to start with my baby because after the horrors last week, seeing her smile means everything to me. Gotta hold onto it as long as I can because we all know what's coming.

And speaking of smiles, this situation is TERRIBLE there are delinquents coming at my man with 2x4's but this feral smile from Mahasamut?

This one is purely for Meena's benefit, to comfort and reassure her but it is genuine, Fort's eyes are very sparkly. He switches gears very quickly when the getaway bike arrives for the thugs though so however chill he seems, he absolutely isn't. He just wants to keep the baby (and Vivi and her friend) calm.

It's very disconcerting to see Vivi this serious.

We're 2/2 on smiles for other people's benefit. My poor girly.

*stares at Viviana* You did this.

This look of pure murderous intent may be one of my favorite expressions Mut has had over this whole show, especially because it's paired with that clenched fist. And I'm going to give extra praise to Fort for it because he doesn't clench his fist until after Tongrak apologizes for what happened and he doesn't open his eyes until his hand is practically trembling from holding it so tightly.

This response doesn't come when Rak tries to blame himself for the beating; it happens when he apologizes for it. Mut isn't angry in the abstract and he isn't angry at Rak, he's angry for him.

I don't like this face, Khun Tongrak. I actually had a moment where I thought to myself, "why can't I read your face right now?" and of course it's deliberate on Peat's part. Even without knowing what we know from the preview, this face would have told us that Something was about to happen.

Or maybe that's just me, I don't know. I've been staring very hard at Peat's face for the past two months.

Watching Tongrak desperately try to steel his nerve after entering the snake pit that is his sperm donor's house is heartbreaking.

As much as I hate to subject you (and myself) to more of Jak's face, I'd like to point out that like last week, his face is in shadow while the face of the person he's speaking to, in this case Tongrak, is catching the light. Also worth noting that Rak's back is quite literally against the wall in this scene.

We see this play with light/shadow again when Rak has a flashback of him from his childhood. Jak has always been a vile, psychopathic snake and his true feelings and intentions have always been hidden behind shadow.

It's horrible to say because there's so much anguish behind it but this is such a beautiful expression. There's a split second where he tries to look angry but it just doesn't work.

I think there's a tiny part of Tongrak that truly believed that tearing up the contract would be what made Mahasamut leave and on the flip side of that, a part that was afraid that the contract was truly the only thing making Mut stay.

GODDAMN THIS IS THE SEXIEST THING MAHASAMUT HAS EVER SAID ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

For people like Tongrak and for people who can relate to Tongrak in the sense that one or more of the parents we pulled in the great gacha of life are horrible and shitty, there comes a moment where you realize that they aren't actually these huge indestructible monsters. They're human.

And when you realize that and look at them, it's like you're seeing for the first time. There's a weird sort of pity and whatever the opposite of awe is that you feel that's hard to describe. It's a feeling of "...Is that really it? Is that all there is to you?"

That is what Peat is portraying so incredibly in this scene.

BLINDING LIGHT OF LOVE LET'S GOOOOOOO

WILD HORSES, YA'LL! WILD FUCKING HORSES!

Pouty Tongrak face, as a treat.

Mook and Mahasamut were talking about Tongrak and what Mut would do if he got rejected when all was said and done, but Mook's face when Mut says he would accept the rejection tells me she's also thinking about herself and Vivi.

I actually really wish she would've talked to Mut about it directly because god knows girly pop needs to talk to someone about Vivi. Or better yet, Vivi herself.

As for the preview next week, do not even sweat it babes because you know what?

THERE ARE COLORFUL PATTERNS ON TONGRAK'S BODY!

I LOVE GETTING EVERYTHING I WANT!