#pas post

[pastlight]

ive always been fascinated and intrigued by the concept development of pokemon designs and the teraleak makes me even more insane about it like

the spectrum of whatever the fuck is going on in the pokemon concept room

[gremlingirlsmell]

untitled comic by Pas @\paxiti on twitter

[tesseractingrey]

terrible influence tour already living up to its name as phannies everywhere disregard internet safety to find people to meet up with at tour dates

[daimiyamoto]

PAS DE VAGUES (dir. Teddy Lussi-Modeste, 2024)

[superbat-love]

Bruce Wayne found himself in a rare moment of social unease as he sat across from the Kents in their humble farmhouse. It was his first time meeting Clark’s parents, and he felt tenser than the time the Joker had dangled him over a shark tank.

"So, Bruce," Jonathan began, “I hear you're quite the successful businessman in Gotham. Any truth to the rumors of a vault overflowing with diamonds?"

Bruce, without skipping a beat, replied seriously, "Actually, it's full of kryptonite, not diamonds."

Jonathan's laughter died. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile. "Well, that’s certainly a unique hobby, Bruce."

"Hobby?" Bruce repeated, genuinely confused. "It’s not a hobby, Mr. Kent. It’s for protection, in case Superman loses control and becomes a threat to us all."

Martha's hand shot up to her chest, a gasp escaping her lips at the thought of Clark trapped in a room full of kryptonite. Clark leaned in, smiling proudly. "Bruce always thinks ahead!"

Jonathan and Martha stared at Clark as if he had just declared his love for Darkseid, exchanging uneasy glances. Laughing awkwardly, Martha quickly changed topics. As the evening wore on, Bruce found himself consumed by guilt, convinced that he had left a terrible impression on the Kents.

Later, driving back to Gotham, the silence in the car was heavier than Bruce’s heart.

"That.. didn’t go so well," Bruce finally said.

Clark glanced at him. "You haven’t done anything wrong, Bruce. You just have a very... unique way of showing you care. My parents will understand once they’ve gotten to know you better."

"Alfred told me to just be myself," Bruce muttered.

Clark chuckled. "Right. Well, maybe next time we can work on a less... apocalyptic way to impress my parents."

Bruce nodded. “I’m glad I didn’t tell them about the Phantom Zone projector in the vault.”

[rennebright]

PAさん 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.

[yuepants]

who's a babygirl

anyway

lesbian maxley 🥰

the other sapphic maxley posts: this and this

[gastonlagaffe]

Spirou et Fantasio - La brosse à dents

Spirou n°4511

[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.

[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.

[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

[daimiyamoto]

FRANÇOIS CIVIL as Julien Keller in

PAS DE VAGUES (dir. Teddy Lussi-Modeste, 2024)

[pancharts]

[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

[rennebright]

PAさんまとめ 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.

[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.