#pas post

[pastlight]

let me be clear: when I post about the situation in Argentina in English, it's for my darling mutuals who don't speak Spanish to know why I'm miserable.

it's not an invitation for Americans to hijack the post to talk about their grievances with their own election options. it's not just a doomed warning to other countries about the dangers of accelerated neoliberal fascism, although I do think once again we're a guinea pig. and it's definitely not a cry for help for intervention. i have no hope and no desire for first world countries and international orgs like the UN to do something. first of all cause yes the situation in Palestine is more important and they're clearly shitting the bed there, and second because I want their grubby little hands far away from here, for better or for worse.

#pas post #Argentina #am i terrified? yeah #do I want people to know how dark things are looking here? yeah #in the same way i tell a friend about a fucked up thing my mom said in a family gathering

[gremlingirlsmell]

untitled comic by Pas @\paxiti on twitter

#comic #manga #trans #trans positivity #transfem #trans girl #trans woman #pas #paxiti #long post #trans rights #trans pride

[nerdpoe]

3 Fanon ideas to make a prompt from :)

1). Ectoplasm is Lazarus Water but purified

2). Ghosts can retreat to their cores

3). Protocore Jason AU

Danny has to retreat into his core, Jason somehow finds him and absorbs it. It looks like Jason is pregnant as his own ecto is being purified and then given to Danny's Core.

Enjoy:)

This is a full prompt, though? Okay I'll write mpreg. Gonna bypass that "looks" and make it an "is" though, throwin in some reincarnation and trans Jay.

~~~~~~

Jason was doing one last round before he left for Gotham. Before he left to prove a point. To teach Bruce a lesson he'd never forget.

He wasn't sentimental, no, he was just checking to make sure he wasn't forgetting any sickass weapons that may have fallen behind a dresser or something.

"Todd," a small, imperious voice demanded from behind him. "Observe my new pet rock."

Jason sighed and stood up to humor the little demon.

The kid was holding a weird glowing, cracked orb. It was radiating frost, and Damian had to use cloth between his hands and the magic stone.

"Damian," Jason started, keeping his voice level. "Where did you get that?"

The kid sniffed with all the superiority of a spoiled brat, looking proud and holding the obviously enchanted stone higher.

"Since Grandfather and Mother say that animals as pets would be a weakness, I decided to search the lesser treasure room for a suitable inanimate pet."

Jason sucked in air through his teeth in a soft hiss. There was no "lesser" treasure room; there was the "safe" treasure and the "unknown" treasure. Where was Talia when he needed her?

"Look, kid, I don't think-" Jason started, reaching for the weird rock, just as Damian started pulling away.

"-You are jealous that I have this rock and you do not-"

"-Damian, please, just hand over the fucking-"

"-Cease your attempted theft this instant-"

"-Damian come here you little shit-"

Jason tripped. Damian tripped. The weird rock went into the air...and landed on Jason's chest. It melted into him with a sharp flash of pain.

And that was that.

Damian stared at Jason's stomach, aghast.

"You stole my rock!"

By the time Talia arrived to see what was keeping Jason so long, he and Damian were rolling on the ground biting each other.

~~~~~~

Months later, Jason was beyond ready to murder the newest Robin. He'd originally planned to just beat the shit out of the kid, but he'd been having a rough time.

He was losing his carefully crafted abs.

He was getting soft.

Normally that was whatever, but he was trying to be intimidating, and being soft in any way was definitely going to trigger the dysphoria he thought he'd outrun.

It made no sense; he worked out daily, had started eating on a caloric deficit, drank nothing but water, and made sure what he ate was home-cooked.

Then, one month before go-time with Timmy, he'd started getting nauseous.

He felt bloated, tired, hungry, and most of all; pissed.

As he stalked through the Tower that the newest Robin was hiding in, he may have, perhaps, let the millions of small annoyances pile into one big rage filled pity party with a kid as the target.

It really didn't help that he hadn't been able to don his replica of his own Robin costume, because he...he had pudge. He didn't fit in it.

It was infuriating.

He knew it wasn't little TimTams fault, but he was gonna take his rage out on someone, and the kid was the unfortunate closest person he had beef with.

Was he overreacting? Probably.

But it was lash out or cry, and he refused to cry.

On top of everything, the one thing that had helped with any of the symptoms, the extra purified Lazarus Water that Talia had given him to 'act as an emergency first aide', was gone. He'd drank it all.

With that supply out, he was.

Well.

He was going to kill little Timmy, fuck the consequences.

But little Timmy was...doing a very good job of staying completely out of sight. The kid had been acting far more neurotic than he normally did, only letting out a small gasp when he'd seen Red Hood and immediately darted into some sort of weird hidey hole.

Jason hadn't been able to find him since.

The kid had added his own gopher network to the Tower, fuck.

The speaker system crackled on, just as Jason was about to start laying down bombs.

"Red Hood, please consider your condition. Do not do anything that would raise your blood pressure, or uh..." the newest Robin's voice trailed off, keyboard audibly clacking as he looked something up. "...Or eat peas? No, that can't be right. Whatever, look, just stay calm, take a breather, and don't overstress yourself. It's not good for the uh. The second...yeah. Not good. Do not do. Why am I so dumb sounding when it comes to things like this? Shoulda gotten Steph..."

The kids voice trailed off as he berated himself, but Jason was too busy fighting off the horribly dawning realization of what the kid was saying.

Which couldn't be true, because there was no way for the kid to know, and Jason hadn't had sex in...well. Years.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jason gasped, thanking his past self for putting the vocoder in his helmet. It sounded far more threatening.

"Oh. Uh. During one of your fights with Batman, you got glanced by something sharp, and there was a little blood. Don't worry though! I didn't tell Batman! I just wanted to see if I could figure it out on my own! So I ran your blood and now I...know. That was actually probably like, really invasive. Sorry Jason."

Jason knew the fight the little Bird was talking about. He'd had a random wave of vertigo, barely dodged a batarang. He'd had to do his own stitches afterwards.

"...You know? Know what?"

"Okay, I should clarify. I didn't tell Batman, but I kinda needed help scrubbing everything, so I had to ask Oracle to help, so she knows, and she couldn't keep it from Nightwing, because he's felt super guilty about how he treated you, but Batman definitely does not know."

Jason sat down on the nearest chair, feeling like the wind had been ripped from his sails. He took the helmet off and dropped in on the ground in favor of running a hand through his hair.

"How can you be sure B doesn't know it's me?" He rasped, staring at nothing.

"Because can you imagine he'd leave you alone for a second if he knew you were alive, much less up the duff?"

Jason had nothing to say to that. Either Ra's had been up to some fucked up experiments while he'd been asleep, or he was the victim of miraculous conception.

The newest Robin was rambling over the speakers, but Jason ignored him and held his head in his hands. The glowing orb flashed through his mind, and Jason didn't even have the energy to curse Damian for doing stupid kid shit.

He was just thankful that the kid hadn't been a viable host.

"Tim, shut up. Do you have an ultrasound machine here?" Jason interrupted, steeling himself. He was an adult sort of, one year before it was technically true, and he could freak out later.

It was time to do adult things.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Why? Has your gyno not done one yet?"

"Don't have one, didn't know. Where is it?"

"...I probably should have broken that news to you like, way softer."

~~~~~~

Jason was...pulling back. His criminal empire was still growing strong, and he was making a shit ton of money from it, but he was pulling back from actively provoking Batman.

As much as he wanted B to be the one to kill the Joker, he knew that the older man probably wouldn't do that, and Jason wasn't going to risk getting anywhere near that maniac while he was pregnant.

Batman had certainly noticed the change in behavior, but whenever he tried to intrude into Crime Alley, Nightwing or Robin would intercept him.

Jason.

Jason wasn't sure what he wanted to do about Bruce.

Dick was slowly earning forgiveness for his pas actions, piece by piece. Tim was surprisingly good at being supportive, and Jason's hatred for him was starting to wear away to the realization that this was just a kid.

Oracle, whoever she was, had apparently designed the best security system in the world and quietly renovated an apartment into a safehouse, just for him.

He hated the charity, but it was better than what he could make at the moment with how many enemies he'd gained.

As the months passed by, he found himself hiding away in the gifted apartment more and more.

The dysphoria was...bad.

There were no more mirrors in the apartment.

The kid, which the ultrasound confirmed they were, was a small one, thank fuck. His belly had popped out, true to most pregnancies, but it was relatively contained.

It was still enough to make a horrible sense of wrongness almost knock him off his feet every time he looked down.

He was, essentially, useless.

If it wasn't for the trio of well-meaning extended family (maybe? he had his suspicions about Oracle), he probably would have just laid down on the floor of his apartment and not gotten up.

Tim, surprisingly, had adopted some stupid Alvin Draper alias and was running his crime network in his stead. He was doing a concerningly good job, actually, and Jason and Dick had exchanged more than one worried glance over the kid's head.

Dick had moved in, citing that Bruce was getting suspicious and it was easier to pretend that he'd moved back to Gotham than it was to continually make up excuses. In reality, he was making sure Jason didn't lay down and rot, keeping him active and healthy.

Jason was...trying. He was trying. But between needing to stop HRT and the changes and his fucking voice and just. Everything. All of it.

He hated it.

But he still wasn't sure what he wanted to do with the kid.

Dick and Tim had set up a nursery, just in case. Dick had also surreptitiously reached out to the Kents, also just in case. There was no judgement. If he decided to keep the kid or give it away, it would be well taken care of.

That should have been a weight off his shoulders.

But instead, he felt like he was getting worse.

He was so, so fucking tired. He was starving but he couldn't stomach the food Dickwing put in front of him. He had worked so hard to build his criminal empire, but when Tim tried to tell him about it he couldn't focus long enough understand what was being said. He knew that they were getting more and more concerned, and when he woke up one morning and vomited straight Lazarus Water, Tim snapped.

"I'm calling B."

"Tim, no, we can-"

"-No, Dick, we need to figure out what's going on! This isn't something Leslie can handle, we need Bruce!"

Maybe it was just something buried deep inside Jason, but he agreed. He wanted his dad, not a doctor. He didn't care about Tim's reasoning, he just. He agreed. He wanted Bruce.

"Do it," Jason rasped from the floor, leaning into the cold tile. "Get B."

~~~~~~

Jason was still on the bathroom floor when a set of far, far heavier footsteps paused at the doorway.

The wood from the doorframe creaked as whoever it was tightened their grip on it.

Their breathing stuttered. They swallowed.

The footsteps continued, and they knelt next to Jason, wordlessly running their fingers through his hair.

"Hey Jaylad," Bruce whispered, voice tight and controlled even as his hand shook. "Looks like you've got a bit of a situation. Wanna tell me what happened?"

"Got knocked up by a magic rock," Jason muttered, thoroughly enjoying the hand in his hair. "But it ain't going right, and I'm tired and hungry all the time, and I'm throwing up the Lazarus Pits."

"The magic rock info is new," he heard Tim mutter from the hall, right before he was forcibly shushed by Dick.

"Did you have any weird cravings? Any symptoms that don't normally match a pregnancy?" Bruce asked, keeping his voice calm and controlled even as he lifted Jason from the floor and into his lap. "Should I get Constantine on the phone?"

Jason let it happen, turning to hide his face from the shitshow that had been his life for the past six months and shoving it into Bruce's stupid fancy shirt.

"Had Lazarus water. Drank it. I'm hungry but I can't eat anything. I can hear the kid chirp sometimes."

"Like a bird? That's adora-"

"-Shut up Dick not now!"

"You shut up!"

"You...drank. Lazarus Water." Bruce repeated, voice stilted as he clearly started working through something in his head. "I....hm. Okay. I'm...I'm going to call Constantine." Jason couldn't help the snort at the clear distaste in Bruce's voice as he said that.

He expected Bruce to put him down and go get changed into his Batman kit.

He did not expect Bruce to adjust his hold, lean back onto the cabinets, and make the call then and there.

~~~~~~

Constantine was officially unofficially his doctor for the duration of his pregnancy.

That was not something that anyone wanted, Bruce especially.

Jason wanted to throw up and aim it at the Hellblazer, but he had a feeling the man had been covered in worse and would, at best, be unfazed.

At worst, tempted to just smear it on Jason to prove a point.

The Mage of the hour himself was hovering over Jason, eyes unfocused as his glowing hands rested on the despised baby bump.

Jason was laying on the couch, trying not to let the sound of Bruce's pacing drive him up a wall.

"That," Constantine started, head tilting as if he was listening to something. "That is a core. And a baby. And another core. Two Ghost Cores, two bodies. If you're meetin' the needs of the physical, and you're still havin' issues, prolly need to see to the spritual, love."

"Don't call him love," Bruce warned, pausing his pacing long enough to glare at the Mage.

Constantine didn't bother to acknowledge him.

"Don't suppose you've got any spare Lazarus Water lying around, eh?" The man asked instead, eyes refocusing as he removed his hands from Jason's person.

Jason shook his head, but Tim nodded his.

Everyone stared at Tim.

Tim shrugged.

"What? It's under the city. Not like anyone will miss it if we take some."

"How. Tim, how do you know that?" Dick asked, sounding a little scared.

"Because I found it? I tried throwing dead rats in it but it doesn't work on rats, so I tried larger dead animals that had gotten down there-"

"-B you've raised Dr. Frankenstein," Jason groaned, covering his eyes from the realities of a mad scientist little brother.

"But I'm not an undead being stitched together?" Tim asked.

"You uncultured swine," Jason snarled, practically throwing himself into a sitting position and was quickly met with Constantine trying to wrangle him back down. "It's common fucking knowledge that Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, and if you paid any attention in English class-"

"-I'm gonna go get Lazarus Water okay bye!" Tim shouted, bolting for the door.

~~~~~~

Jason drank his fifth juice pack of Lazarus Water, finally starting to feel like himself again, and stared at Bruce.

Bruce, to his credit, was clearly trying very hard not to stare back.

Jason imagined this was rather hard, given that he couldn't stop fucking purring. Apparently, that was a Thing that his body could and would do, according to his unofficial doctor.

Dick and Tim were helping Constantine put the Lazarus Water into the juice packets, all of them desperately pretending that they weren't there at all and trying to be as quiet as possible.

"So, Hellblazer. Nothing to say about the Big Bad Batman?" Jason asked, eyes never leaving said man.

"Not particularly any of my business, mate. I don't really care one way or another."

Bruce actually looked a little put out at that, much to Jason's satisfaction.

"I imagine you have questions," Jason sighed, finishing off his juice pack.

Bruce finally turned to look at him head on, gaze steady.

"They can wait. Do you have any plans for...this?" Bruce didn't motion towards Jason's stomach, but he didn't have to.

"...Maybe. I don't even really know what this is." Jason muttered, sinking further into his chair.

"I told you, love, it's a baby. With a ghost core. It was probably an adult ghost, at one point, but if it was cracked near as bad as you say, it was either reincarnate or disappear." Constantine shrugged, taping another stupid tiny straw to another juice box and moving to repeat the action. "Either way, since it's reincarnation, the baby ain't gonna know tit from tat. 'S just a baby."

That. Damn. If he'd been faced with the same choice, he probably would have done the same thing.

"You keep saying that. What does a ghost core do when it's in a human?" Bruce asked, knuckles white on the couch's armrest.

"Dunno, haven't seen it before. Heard of it, though. Just makes the person powerful, but now sure how much. Flight is definitely gonna be there, though, so I'd ask supes for some pointers." Constantine answered without really answering, true to form for him.

Jason heaved himself up and waved everyone off as they started to get to their own feet to help him. "I'm gonna take a nap. Snipe at each other in here and don't fucking bother me."

~~~~~~

Jason was disgusting.

Alfred and Bruce and everyone else assured him he wasn't, but he absolutely was.

It was so bad he'd gone ahead and, without informing anybody, arranged for an induced labor at Gotham General as soon as he could.

He didn't want to deal with Dick getting scared and frantic, or Tim overplanning and having a mental breakdown, or Bruce's rigid shoulders as he both tried to apologize and do something stupid like take over from the actual doctor.

Alfred would probably be composed, but if Alfred acted a little off then they'd know.

Hell, Jason had started getting some Braxdon hicks contractions and he swore he watched Bruce's hair grey in real time.

So at the eight and a half month mark, Jason lied to everyone and told them he was going to another safehouse to get away from their coddling.

He ignored their objections and reached for the keys to his car-

-and pissed himself.

Or, it felt like he did.

The apartment went dead silent as everyone looked down.

Then the contractions really hit.

~~~~~~

Bruce actually did try to take over the maternity ward and do the doctors jobs.

Jason was delighted to have an excuse to kick him out.

He couldn't force the man to avenge his murder, but he could make him wait in the waiting room like the rest of the peasants.

Alfred he allowed to stay, though.

~~~~~~

Jason still hadn't decided what to do with the kid.

He didn't know if he was gonna send them off to a farm or if he was gonna keep them.

So he let himself hold them, to see if any of the disgust he'd felt during the pregnancy had been directed at the kid or if it was all just him hating how he looked.

The little bean of a child, eyes bluer than his own, proceeded to free one arm to pull on Jason's bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

Ah.

Nah, the hatred had been towards how he looked.

This one was his, the Kents could get visitation rights.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #like an actual one shot #mpreg tw #trans pregnancy #trans jason todd #dysphoria tw #when damian comes into the picture he's astonished his pet rock became a little person #constantly tries to be the best uncle #that was his pet rock before it was jason's son #yes #jason names him Daniel #he doesn't know why but it seems like a good name for the kid #ma and pa kent do get visitation rights #danny was almost theirs and they are delighted to help jason when danny starts manifesting his powers #and when jason starts manifesting his #long post

[rennebright]

PA星 by 夜桜ゆゆ [Twitter/X] ※Illustration shared with permission from the artist. If you like this artwork please support the artist by visiting the source.

#ijichi seika #伊地知星歌 #PA-san #PAさん #bocchi the rock #ぼっち・ざ・ろっく! #夜桜ゆゆ #yuri #posted art

[bruciemilf]

I know Bruce and Ma Kent meeting is an obligatory trope, but Bruce and Pa Kent?

Majorly underrated, supremely adorable concept.

Guys. There's something extremely endearing about Batman, a symbol of brutality, -- mercy, hope, forgiveness, yes, but brutal all the same, - shaking in his versace emo boots in front of his boyfriend's dad...

" Now listen here, city boy. You best treat my Clark with respect, cause Lois told me where you sleep,--"

And Bruce focuses, really, really hard, to sit through this (surprisingly graphic) threat session.

But some baby birds are about to fall from their nest, right past John's shoulders. No, -- one is pushed by mama bird. He charges, runs, damn near knocking Clark's dad off his feet.

Pa Kent watches Bruce Wayne, Gotham darling, dirty his luxurious designer clothes in filthy mud, and decides maybe he does like city folk after all.

"Did he just...Hiss at the mama bird?"

Clark, adoring, more than a little in love, sighs, " Yeah, he did. That's my boy."

Pa Kent is still on the lookout, thought. It's his parental obligation to regard Bruce with protective, mild glaring. Southern hospitality, sure. But protective glaring first.

The fact that he covers Bruce with a blanket when he falls asleep cuddling a batch of ducklings in his barn means nothing.

"Not a word, you two,"

Martha and Clark don't need to look that smug.

In conclusion: Bruce is the cat Pa Kent pretends he didn't want.

#bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #text #text post #clark kent #pa kent #martha kent #superbat #bruce x clark #battinson #your honor theyd be adorable

[staticsnowfall]

the nutcracker (1993)

*ੈ‧₊˚ ❆ .ೃ࿔*

corps de ballet of the new york city ballet performing “waltz of the snowflakes”

dir. by emile ardolino, choreo. by george balanchine

#posting bc i saw daniel ulbricht and emma von enck in the nutcracker pas de deux today (i cried so hard) #staticsnowfall #art #dance #ballet #photography #film #fashion #the nutcracker #nutcracker #nutcracker ballet #new york city ballet #george balanchine #balanchine #balletcore #ballet aesthetic #tchaikovsky #pyotr ilyich tchaikovsky #snow #winter #wintercore #winter aesthetic #coquette #90s #90s films #gif #my gifs #aesthetic #coquette aesthetic #girl blogging

[megamindsupremacy]

Okay this one might be niche but. Y’all know how sometimes your friend will have a family member they only refer to by their title? Like, “Pop” or “Auntie” No Name? And if you spend a lot of time with this friend then you end up also calling this family member Nona or whatever even though you’re not related?

I headcanon that Clark exclusively refers to his parents as Ma and Pa and literally never tells anyone their names. And Ma and Pa only ever introduce themselves as Ma and Pa. Then by the time someone thinks to ask what Clark’s Ma and Pa’s names are it’s been like half a year and it’s WAY too late to ask for something like that. Like they respond to “Mrs./Mr. Kent”, sure, but also they have the entire league calling them Ma and Pa and they LOVE it. They’ve adopted the entire league via Clark and are delighted by this. It never registers for Clark that all of his coworkers call his parents Ma and Pa too because to him that’s just their names like of course that’s what people call them. Meanwhile every single leaguer with dead parents (most if not all) has a mini breakdown when they realize they’re calling these random midwesterners Ma and Pa. They’re not mad about it! Just confused as to how this happened without anyone noticing

#mads posts #justice league #dc #Superman #Clark kent #ma kent #Pa kent #Martha Kent #jonathan kent #post inspired by me calling my neighbors grandma ‘Grammy’ literally my entire childhood #because I didn’t know her name #and that’s what everyone called her #like even my parents called her Grammy that’s just her name #also leaguers who don’t know Superman’s secret identity are SO confused whenever ma and pa are brought up in convo #like didn’t his planet explode arent his parents dead? #why is Batman talking about some couple named Ma and Pa? he’s from jersey im pretty sure they don’t call their parents that in New Jersey??? #etc

[suzukiblu]

updated/expanded "Kara gets to Earth on-time with baby Kal" AU excerpt:

Kara doesn’t understand the aliens’ language, which is fine. She didn’t expect to. She watches them interact and listens as they speak, familiarizing herself with the cadence and pitch and rhythm of their voices and doing her best to pick out individual sounds and patterns. She likes languages well enough. She did pretty well with Daxamite dialects in school last year, anyway. 

The aliens are kind, at least so far. They found her and Kal curled up in the remains of their smashed-up ships in their ruined field and brought them into their home despite the mess. Kara thinks they’re farmers, probably? So probably Laborer Guild, or whatever this planet has instead of Laborers. The House of El is mostly Thinkers, but Kara isn’t worried about that. She’ll figure something out, as soon as she figures out how to communicate with the aliens. Pantomime has not been all that helpful, at least not so far. 

They gave her a warm, unusually sweet drink that might have some kind of milk in it, with soft white pellets in it that are even sweeter. It’s not quite like anything she’s ever tasted before, but she likes it. Kal really liked it, though the aliens seemed to think he shouldn't have too much and gave her a little cup of just milk alone for him instead. Or she thinks it's milk, anyway. 

It's white. And very thick, and almost creamy? Though it tasted good too, when Kara stole a sip to make sure it wouldn’t upset Kal’s stomach if she gave it to him. 

"Pye," the alien that Kara is assuming is female announces in their weirdly simple-sounding language, putting a round plate with a slice of something on it on the table in front of her. Kal reaches for it from her lap with a burble. Kara peers at it too. The slice is triangular, with a crisp crust and an oozy red filling. She wonders why the plate is round, if the "pye" is meant to be sliced and served triangularly. It seems a little disrespectful to the cook–or baker? Or at least the artisan who made the plate, which was clearly painted with very dedicated care. Painted by hand, even, not a pre-programmed design reproduced by a machine. That’s very luxurious for Laborers to be offering unexpected guests who just destroyed their field, even being the wrong shape for the "pye". 

Maybe they’re overcompensating, Kara thinks. Or maybe the aliens are really just that kind. 

Maybe. 

She thinks they’re little flowers, the designs around the edges of the plate. Or at least they look like they could be flowers. They’re flower-<i>like</i>, if nothing else, and all the weird colors of them might just be a stylistic choice. 

They’re pretty. 

She wishes she could show her mother. 

Kara crushes down the grief for the thousandth time and smiles at the aliens. They smile back. 

It helps, almost. 

Almost. 

The “pye” tastes very good. 

.

.

.

It takes some effort, but Kara learns the aliens’ names after she and Kal finish their “pye” and she cleans up his sticky little face. The possibly female one is “Ma Mar-Tha”, and the possibly male one is “Pa Jona-Than”. So . . . maybe they're both female, actually? Going by their names, anyway. They both identify themselves as “Kent”, too, though she’s not sure if that’s another name and they’re either married or related, or if it’s the local word for “farmer” or “Laborer”. It’s unclear. 

They don’t look related, but she doesn’t really know how “related” this species would look to her eyes anyway. The colors of their skins are close, although their hair, though similarly textured, doesn’t really match–Ma Mar-Tha’s is an oddly neutral brown, and Pa Jona-Than’s is an even more oddly dull blond. Kara’s never seen hair in such faded colors. Her own is as bright as this planet’s strange sun, and Kal’s is as black as the space between stars. And both of their eyes are the El blue, of course. 

Pa Jona-Than’s eyes are blue too, but a washed-out shade of it. And Ma Mar-Tha’s are brown, which is so exotic and unusual that Kara has a little bit of trouble not staring too much. They’re very warm and very soft, though, and she likes how they look. 

They’re both middle-aged, she thinks, or at least strongly resemble the Kryptonian version of it. Their clothes are soft and shapeless, with very little structure or sign of formality to the garments, though Kara supposes they might be some sort of sleepwear? She and Kal did crash very early in this planet’s morning, from what she can tell. 

She tells them her name and Kal’s, though they pronounce them a bit oddly. She’s sure she’s pronouncing theirs oddly too, so it’s not as if it’s an insult. They say their names all at once, though, as if they’re singular words–"Karazorel” and “Kalel”, almost. She manages to get them both down to “Kara” and “Kal”, and they get her down to “Ma” and “Pa”, so she supposes “Mar-Tha” and “Jona-Than” are their surnames, and “Kent” does mean “Laborer”. Kal isn’t verbal enough to get to any of it, of course, but laughs sweetly and claps as he listens to them all exchanging names and sounds back and forth. 

Kara crushes down the grief again and wonders how long it’ll be until he cries for Aunt Lara and Uncle Jor. He’ll miss them soon, she’s sure. He’s a sweet, good-natured little thing, but he’s not even old enough to walk properly yet. And they’re his parents. 

She only hasn’t cried for her own because she doesn’t have the room to. Not until she’s sure they’re somewhere safe, and that Kal is going to be alright. That she can take care of him here, however she has to. 

Who knows, maybe this farm needs some more “Kents” on it. 

.

.

.

Ma gives Kara clothes: a strangely soft knee-length dress patterned with more pretty alien flowers and clunky, heavy boots with actual laces in them and a sturdy blue jacket with a surprising amount of pockets and a thick, warm, fleece-like lining, accented with flat metal studs and an odd metal trim with a tag hanging from one side of it. It takes Kara a moment, but then she realizes the trim actually seems to be some sort of fastener. 

Huh. 

The clothes don't fit quite right–Kara thinks the dress is probably meant to be a little longer, from the cut of it, and the jacket is a bit too big and the boots are a little loose too–but she does appreciate them. She's been in her own clothes since . . . 

Krypton died while she was in these clothes. 

Everyone she's ever loved, everyone she's ever known, everyone she's ever seen . . . 

Kara appreciates the new ones. 

. . . although, do clothes on this planet just not have house crests? Or are Ma and Pa just not from families that have house crests? 

She supposes they might not be. They are Laborers, so . . . maybe. But they also served her on a hand-painted plate, if with strange manners, so she's not sure what to think. 

Maybe she just doesn't understand the specific signifiers in their clothing, or maybe their house signifiers are just in their jewelry. Ma is wearing tiny gold hoops in her(?) ears and a thin gold necklace and Pa is wearing a thick leather bracelet with a glass and metal circle in the center of it, and they're both wearing gold rings on the third fingers of their left hands. Pa's is just a single plain band, but Ma has two–one just plain like his(?), but thinner, and one with a trio of little clear gemstones set in it. Diamonds, maybe? That would make sense, for a Laborer's jewelry. Diamonds are pretty, but they're both reasonably common in nature and simple enough to recreate under laboratory conditions, so they're certainly affordable enough for a farmer to wear even day-to-day. And they're sturdy, too. Gold less so, obviously, but maybe the rings are just gold-plated or an alloy.

It's something to think about besides the end of the world. 

. . . their world, anyway. 

As far as clothes go there's nothing that'll fit Kal at all, so Kara just keeps him wrapped up safe and secure in the bright red El crest blanket Jor and Lara sent him here in. Though she knows he'll need more diapers soon, obviously, and something he can actually crawl around in too. He can't stay in her lap forever. 

She wishes he could, right now. Even letting Ma hold him while she changed was . . . stressful. 

A little too stressful, maybe, but Kara tries not to think about it. Not right now, at least. 

She needs to protect him. Needs to take care of him. Needs to–

Kara exhales. Wraps Kal up in his El crest blanket and her borrowed jacket, and smiles at Ma and Pa. They smile back at her. 

Well, that's a start. 

#kara zor el #supergirl #ma and pa kent #clark kent #superfamily #superman #rinfic #long post #wip: kara gets to earth on time

[svtskneecaps]

oh good news for those of us who only saw the english version of the french union call for testimony, or who don't speak french:

when in english they said quackity "half-heartedly" acknowledged things, in the french version the word they used was "demi-mot". having consulted a few dictionaries i THINK it's not a direct translation or at least not a wholly accurate one. from what i'm seeing, "reconnaître à demi-mot" roughly means "to admit indirectly". translation of "demi-mot" directly seems to be something like "implicitly" or "without spelling things out".

i've linked the sources where i found the translations for any english speakers who want to double check and please, any native french speaker who disagrees PLEASE tell me if you have a different translation than was provided, or have insight on the connotation!!

"half-heartedly" implies a lack of personal or emotional investment which i think got a lot of us on the defensive (certainly raised my eyebrow) but i think that's just an imperfect translation. from what i'm seeing, 'demi-mot' doesn't have those same connotations.

(incidentally, putting 'reconnaître à demi-mot' into google translate does produce 'to acknowledge half-heartedly'; no shade, to be clear, considering they're a FRENCH union i wouldn't blame them if they had to use online translation tools, and 'demi-mot' is hard to translate, at least for me)

both english and french versions of the call are linked in this post

ADDITION FROM THE REPLIES:

@selemina : "French speaker here, you are very right! In this context, it could mean "he recognized, without saying so explicitly [...]". Or it is a notion of not enough being said on a subject. There is a layer of secrecy to something said 'à demi-mot', which often implies dishonesty. Applied to this context, I think the union is suspicious of Quackity's latest declaration (probably from seeing many dishonest people in charge before) but still reporting the facts." (THANK YOU!!)

#qsmp #qsmp discourse #merci à mon prof; j'ai fait beaucoup de traduction #je suis prête à trouver des mots difficiles >:) #je ne peux pas parler français mais je peux traduire des mots individuels #sorry francophones lol #sept ans mais je ne sais rien mdr #i thought about asking for correction by french speakers in french but then the phrasing got too complicated and i chickened out #i would be SO EMBARRASSED IF I FUCKED UP #i know native french exist on this website now ;w; ça me fait peur #this post is a mess i'm so nervous to post this lmfao

[twigs-sprigs]

someone desperately needed a redesign

this au is so different now i cant believe a lot of the posts i made on it have literally been retconned to hell 😭

anyway, he's rockin now!!

#♢ pa ♢ #ninjago #twigs art #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #lloyd montgomery garmadon #ninjago post apocalyptic au #ninjago au #ninjago fanart #lego ninjago #lego ninjago fanart

[pastlight]

#dejenme soñar un rato #argentina #no sé si taggearlo world cup se siente muy bajon teehee #pas post

[brekitten]

Be Careful What You Wish For

Tucker could make fun of him for not reading comics all he wanted, but Danny really did enjoy reading them. He just didn't have much time to after the Accident, with all of the ghost attacks.

He had the time now, he supposed. There were no ghost attacks anymore, not with Vlad "taking care of them".

He was almost scared to find out what the Fruit Loop meant by that.

Danny sighed, staring up at the bare white ceiling of his bedroom. He missed the stars he'd had stuck to the ceiling of his room back home. Because Vlad's mansion wasn't home, was it? It wasn't ever going to be, no matter what.

Again, he began to think of the heroes he'd always admired, the ones that he had always fantasized about when he was younger, as if they would fly out of the comic books and take him and Jazz away, take them to parents that would actually pay attention to them. Now, Danny would take his parents not paying attention to him over them being dead.

Danny sighed, his eyes slipping closed. He wasn't tired, but he wanted to pretend that he was somewhere warm and safe, anywhere but here.

"Man, I wish superheroes were real... I could really use one right now."

Then came a gentle whisper in his ear, one that promised the safety and warmth he was desperate for. "Your wish is my command, little Prince."

Danny jolted upright, but it was too late. One moment, he was sitting in a bed that wasn't his own, could never be, no matter how hard he tried to pretend it was, and the next, he was sitting in a field, cornstalks swaying gently in the warm breeze.

Where... was he?

#dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #ghost prince danny #implied anyway #post ultimate enemy #except clockwork did not prevent everyone's deaths #so danny knows about dan and won't become him #but everything still happened #and yes he is in ma and pa kent's cornfield #where else would he be? #as much as i love danny being adopted by bruce #let's have him adopted by clark #super family #desiree is just looking out for him #everyone knows he needs to heal #dc characters are comic book characters in the dp universe #so danny is gonna know things he definitely shouldn't #but it's okay #batman will get over the potential threat #enjoy!

[dontbelasagnax]

Coruscant Ballet presents Romeo and Julien--a critically acclaimed, passionate retelling of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet with some twists--returning this season by high demand. Equally joyous and poignant in its queerness, Romeo and Julien tells the story of two young men from families that would rather think their sons dead than accept their love. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Cody Fett have captured our hearts with their evocative performance full to the brim with yearning and a love so deep that you'll feel it from the balcony seats. Mace Windu takes Prokofiev's score and gives the haunting despair hope. Combined with Shaak Ti's inspirationally beautiful and tender choreography that simultaneously challenges and subverts the standards of masculine and feminine roles in ballet, this is a production you don't want to miss.

@codywanweek day 3: dancer au

[prints available!]

#codywan #star wars fanart #my art #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #codywan week 2023 #went back to my ballet roots for this one!! #i have soooo many thoughts about this au #it's so juicy to me #this is supposed to be a promo post for the ballet btw #some poor social media manager is fielding homophobic comments while everyone else is vibing and excited #i want to watch this balcony pas de deux SO badly but i can't because the choreography only exists in my head aaargh

[rennebright]

誰かと待ち合わせしてるPAさん by あんている ※Illustration shared with permission from the artist. If you like this artwork please support the artist by visiting the source.

#pa san #PAさん #bocchi the rock #ぼっち・ざ・ろっく! #あんている #posted art

[sophaeros]

alex twirling miles around ft. him changing the lyrics to random shit again @ union transfer, philadelphia (x)

#tlsp #alex turner #miles kane #milex #eycte era #union transfer #philadelphia pa usa #i wanted to add this to the post that person made first but u can't post videos in an rb 😭😭 sorry op im not swagjacking u i swear #now him saying im in a lighthouse..he was probably just being silly but the potential symbolism . #bands #Also him pointing reminded me of him doing the same thing during the dublin show pensive emoji

[bellshazes]

been thinking a lot about people's varied reactions to the chaos & perceived inconsistencies around the rules of limited life and because i taught games professionally for a decade and have done a lot of reading on games academically, I have a few propositions for the fandom to consider.

proposition one: Your interpretation of gameplay events is not the same as a monolithic "the narrative" to which all players are equally subject.

Narrative is not what happened, but the interpretation and meaning attached to the events that occurred. Narrative is when we "give experience a form and a meaning." (Harris-Miller)

This construction of narrative - giving meaning to experiences - can occur in the way a video is cut an edited, as well as in the audience's interpretation after the video is released.

Social play is player interaction, both in the derived from the structure and rules of the game (being "It" in tag) as well as the social roles brought from outside the game. (1)

In transformative social play, players use the game context to transform social relationships.

Most players in the life game are more concerned with narrative as it relates to transformative social play - such as, what does this event mean for me, my alliances, my enemies, and the shifting of roles along that spectrum?

Narrative within the game is dynamic and always changing in response to ongoing events and shifting relationships. Viewers' narratives about the games are more static since they exist outside the game context and are not a part of ongoing social play.

Letting go of a single unified "narrative" lets us think about the differences, tensions, and resonances between players' in-game construction of narrative, the narrative constructed by the player's video edit, and the retrospective audience construction of narrative. (*)

proposition two: Fairness is decided by the players, not the rules.

Playing a game requires trust and safety with the other players. (DeKoven) Even in tic-tac-toe you have to trust that your opponent will take reasonable amounts of time per turn before you sit down to play.

We can distinguish between ideal rules (rules as writ, such as a physical rulebook) and the real rules (the general consensus on what playing the game should look like). (2)

Real rules can include how sportsmanlike behavior is defined, and when "breaking" a rule doesn't count; a common example is forgiving a player who genuinely made a mistake on accident and did not intend to "break" the rules.

The real rules are what actually matter in developed gameplay, and they can be negotiated and constructed inside the game as new events, situations, and dynamics occur. (3)

Brushing past Scar's "illegal" kill on greens is not him getting away with breaking the rules, it's the group coming to a consensus on the real rules of the game. Cleo asking Impulse if her kill on him can count and him finally agreeing is not the breaking of (ideal) rules so much as it is defining the real rules.

proposition: Players' own individual motivations and definitions of sportsmanship or interesting play inform their contribution to the general consensus on real rules and leading them to play "imperfectly" in favor of having more fun or staying true to something.

Purely optimal play is boring to the players and viewers, and taken to an extreme allowed by the ideal rules, would violate the real rules implicitly agreed to by the players.

"Optimal" gameplay in the life series could look like hiding in a hole underground for the entire game if the end goal is to survive the longest, but that would make a boring video and would likely be considered supremely unsportsmanlike by other players and their audiences.

Playing perfectly optimally is one motive to play a game, but is basically never the sole motivator if it's one at all.

Even if everyone in the life series has a goal to "keep playing the game as long as possible," that could mean being focused on winning, or being focused on making allies or not making enemies, or it could compel you to give up your life for someone else who's running out of time because to you to play the game is to play together. (4)

Scar is a perfect example of someone who consistently chooses "non-optimal" goals such as always having the enchanter and goes to great and stupid lengths to achieve it even if it means sacrificing winning.

This "non-optimal" play provides something for other players to play off of and react to, often leading to transformative social play, significantly meaningful narrative, or interesting negotiations of real rules. (5)

synthesis: The most interesting narratives are born out of situations where players negotiate the real rules, not ones where the (ideal) rules are broken.

The life series is inherently highly experimental - even as more seasons build on the experiences of prior ones, the constant addition of new mechanics mean the game is more or less always being playtested rather than simply played.

The "rule" against carrying Third Life into Last Life failed because it is basically impossible to eliminate the out-of-game contributions to social play, especially in a social deduction game where knowledge of other players' habits and behaviors is useful metagame (6) currency that can't be un-learned.

Some of the series' most iconic narrative moments - the end of 3L or DL, he loves me, etc. are born out of the tension between ideal and real rules, where players are forced to take a stand or advocate for something opposed to the "ideal" rules such as allying with reds, sticking with your soulmate, or that there can only be one winner. (7)

I'm offering the above as a way of showing that I think these imperfections and changes between seasons are actually the coolest thing about them and have the potential for transformative fan works in addition to transformative play.

if limited life's copious tnt minecarts via skynet and highly-manual, inconsisent giving and taking of time for kills which may or may not be deserved according to strict interpretations of the rules as stated aren't to your taste, that's just how it is sometimes! It's understandable to not enjoy ideal rules that are loosely defined or interpreted or are imperfectly implemented from a mechanics perspective, but understanding that the players of the actual game did agree and consent and get to negotiate the consequences and meaning of these imperfections is not some unfortunate side-effect but in fact an important part of any gameplay.

The various types of narratives and the various motives for playing mean there can't be a single unified narrative for all players - but thinking about these things in terms of tensions and synergies opens doors for talking about the many narratives and the relationships between them. you can hold multiple seemingly-conflicting narratives as a viewer and put them in dialogue and produce new meaningful narratives in their contradictions or overlap! go forth and embrace the chaos and tension between the chains of context that produce meaning and the freedom to look at that complex web and derive fuller meanings from it!

because this post isn't long enough, more citations and examples from the series below the cut:

Some footnotes:

(1) Social roles within the game are more artificial than the ones that exist outside of it. That doesn't make them less meaningful, but when we consider the consequences of breaking a social role defined by the game compared to a real-world breaking of a promise or law, it's hard to forget the artificiality of the game. The consequences are relatively minor; the morality of betrayal, for instance, during a game can be acceptable because of that artificiality where it would be reprehensible in real life.

(2) A few different ways to think about game rules that are not mutually exclusive but complementary to each other:

Three layers of game rules: the underlying constituative rules of a game, the operational rules that directly guide player action, and the implicit rules of proper game behavior, such as etiquette.

Piaget's developmental stages from the Moral Development of Children are useful background here: the first stage is loose play without rules, second is strict adherence to ideal rules, and the final adult-leaning stage is the understanding that the real rules are what matter. You could call putting ideal rules over the real ones juvenile.

"Ideal rules refer to the "official" regulations of a game, the rules written in a player's guide to Zelda or printed on the inside cover of a game of Candyland. Real rules, on the other hand, are the codes and conventions held by a play community. Real rules are a consensus of how the game ought to be played." (Rules of Play)

(3) "It is not that the basic rules of the game undergo a radical change; rather, they are experienced within a social context that decreases their value in favor of a socially-biased ruleset over which players have more control."

(4) I'm thinking of Bdubs in Limited Life session 7 here, since he gives time and stays alive, but if you take this concept a little further and more broadly you just get players like Skizz.

(5) Metagaming, defined broadly for my purposes as the larger social context of the game and not just the pejorative, could be its own too-long post, but I think it's worth mentioning as an avenue for thinking about the complex dynamics of the life series as social play. For example, Etho consistently is thinking from a metagame perspective, from stalling by accusing Cleo of metagaming or remarking that Scar's lost the dramatic moment so he can't attack now in Last Life, or threatening to break roleplay in Limited Life when he's mad at Scar.

(6) From Rules of Play: "Sutton-Smith's model for player roles includes an actor, a counteractor, and an overall "motive" or format for play. For example, if the motive is capture, the actor's role is to take, while the role of the counteractor is to avoid being taken. [...] In Sutton-Smith's model, the roles of actor and counteractor are both equally important in constructing the experience of play." I don't think this model is sufficient on its own, but it's a worthwhile point that conflict is part of the game and is in fact desirable within certain bounds.

(7) Scott in LL is really interesting narratively because his motivation is at odds with what the game asks him to do: he is extremely true to his word and chooses to take the penalty of being knocked down to red rather than trying to kill someone and making an enemy of them and/or failing and dying anyway. He's not breaking any rules, but his choosing to experience consequences because of his own motivation and social relationships is compelling. It pays off when he wins, and it pays off again when Cleo can't bear to kill him in DL - the metagame element of past social play relationships and player knowledge of other players contributing to the current dynamics of social play.

ETA: An important point I also wanted to make but didn't have space for up top is that Jimmy being a "canary in a coal mine" as a result of always dying first is not some immutable truth about fate that actually influences his games, but if you can accept that it's not actually fated then you can start to think about and react to the way that the in-game players construct narratives in response to the actual events of him always permadying first. Joel's futile attempts to prevent this are a product of previous seasons' social play, the transformative current social dynamics, and his own player narrative (again, narrative as meaning giving form to experiences).

Also, I strongly disliked DL's premise and thought the best parts were the chosen soulmates precisely because I think predestination is best left to Calvinists and choice, especially in opposition to prescribed rules or narratives, is the most interesting thing in the world. Of course Etho and Bdubs in Last Life is what hooked me and I am also smug that the players tend to refer to the series as "last life" even if 3L came first and it's been two whole seasons since then.

(*) On meanings:

I think that meaning is necessarily the complex web of relationships between any given things, and there is no objective meaning to anything. Words and events have no meanings outside of our interpretations of and dialogue about them - this is not nihilism, but a beautiful gift of communicating with other people. A real deep dive into semiotics is beyond the scope of this post and also my own abilities, but it informs this view. I don't think you have to read academically to know it; you can find the proof in arguments about whether a pop tart is ravioli. A stupid argument, but one that is negotiating the boundaries of words' meanings by drawing on the words' relationships to other words and the things those words represent. It's the act of making meaning, not uncovering it. So too is watching the life series and arguing about or making arguments for a certain narrative angle or emphasizing a detail etc. - I just think it's a loss not to celebrate the complex web that tugs in many different directions with many different motives. It's less simple, but much richer.

#traffic smp #limited life #mc meta #long post #peter writes #il n'ya pas de hors-texte. you got it???? #i dont know if this kind of post is appealing to anyone i want to convince. but pspspspssss #what you may currently perceive as limiting is actually hiding boundless potential. pspspssspspssssssss #i hope the bullet points make it easier to read but this is such a long post.