#elseworlds

"Wayne’s so assertive. Doesn’t act like an omega at all," someone muttered.

"He should stop pretending to be above his station," another added with a laugh.

Bruce pretended not to hear them, his jaw tightening as he positioned himself near the door for an easy exit. If not for the fact that these matchmaking events were mandatory for all unmated omegas of age, he would have refused the invitation outright.

A new arrival caught his attention. The man’s tanned skin and wavy hair stood out, he didn’t seem to be from Gotham. His name tag read "Kal."

Bruce watched the foreigner as he mingled with the other guests. Kal’s alpha status was obvious, but unlike most alphas, he radiated warmth and charm. People naturally gravitated toward him, drawn to his approachable demeanor. The double standards grated on Bruce more than he cared to admit.

Until Kal’s gaze found his.

The alpha froze, wide-eyed as he stared at Bruce. Bruce glared at the shorter man. It usually kept alphas at bay.

No such luck. Kal approached him anyway.

"Have you heard of Kryptonian queens?" Kal asked.

Bruce blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What?"

"In Kryptonian legends, queens were the biggest, strongest omegas in the colony. They either earned the title by winning dominance battles or left to establish new colonies on distant outposts," Kal said, his voice filled with awe. "You’re like a legend brought to life."

Bruce’s guarded expression faltered. Despite the absurdity of the alpha’s words, there was something in his tone—genuine respect—that made him pause.

And Bruce found himself listening.

🖤Meet our Kara Zor-El🤍

💚Art by our talented contributor @dandeidolon ❤️

Kara was sent to Earth to protect her baby cousin.

Instead, she arrives to find him already grown; no longer Kal-El of Krypton, but Khalil of Palestine. Superman.

She survives the destruction of her homeworld only to land in another world shaped by occupation, displacement, grief, and survival. Palestine becomes her second home not because it is peaceful, but because people continue loving, rebuilding, laughing, resisting, and protecting one another despite everything being done to break them.

Kara is impulsive, emotional, reactive, and deeply empathetic. She carries immense survivor’s guilt from Krypton and an almost self-destructive need to protect others from experiencing the same loss she did. She believes no one deserves to be dehumanized, and when confronted with cruelty toward defenseless people, she struggles to stay restrained.

Her greatest fear is not death.

It is becoming a weapon.

A symbol emptied of humanity.

earth 1098 timkon 😼

🖤🤍 Careem "Khalil" Kanaan by our talented collaborator @jesncin for the @sonofalkhalilzine 💚❤️

hard to summarize 150+ pages of worldbuilding in one post, but here’s the core of my Superman reinterpretation:

this is not just “Superman but in Palestine.”

the project exists to re-center what Superman actually means by placing him somewhere where oppression is not abstract, neutrality is not an option and doing good has real consequences

if Superman is supposed to represent hope, protection, and moral clarity, then i wanted to ask:

what happens when those ideals exist inside systems built around occupation, surveillance, displacement, and narrative control?

“The Last Son of Krypton is also the son of the holiest of lands.”

Khalil is Palestinian–Kryptonian and raised in Al-Khalil, Palestine. He was raised by a Palestinian family after the Ibrahimi Mosque massacre, grew up through the Second Intifada and the partition of Al-Khalil, and first became Superboy in response to the intensifying blockade on Gaza.

his relationship to Palestine isn’t symbolic. it’s lived.

the core contradiction of the story is that he has the power to save people in moments, but not the power to dismantle the systems hurting them overnight.

every intervention has consequences. every act of protection creates escalation. visibility itself becomes dangerous.

so the story stops being: “is Superman good?”

and becomes: how does someone stay good in a world that punishes people for protecting others?

a huge part of the project is also about belonging.

Khalil belongs through love, language, memory, and lived experience. His relationship to homeland is emotional, cultural, and lived.

Mama Mariam tells him: “Resistance, habibi. It’s fertile. Like the soil of your homeland.”

a lot of the emotional core of the project comes from the fact that Khalil was not raised by people who taught him power mattered more than humanity.

he was raised by people who taught him dignity, care, homeland, and responsibility.

the project is heavily focused on:

protection vs consequences

truth vs narrative control

survival vs dignity

resistance vs assimilation

hope as an active choice rather than passive optimism

another major character is Layla Loai, a Lebanese-American investigative journalist who moves to Al-Khalil as a correspondent.

where Khalil’s conflict is: “how do i protect people without making things worse?”

Layla’s conflict is: “what happens if the truth stays hidden?”

she believes silence protects systems more than people.

one of my favorite things about Layla is that she isn’t written as “the journalist love interest.” she’s someone whose worldview is built around the belief that if truth is buried, harm continues unchecked.

she lost her sense of permanence very young, grew up Arab in post-9/11 America, and became someone who refuses imposed narratives even when the truth isolates her from others.

where Khalil fears the consequences of visibility, Layla fears what happens when people look away.

a lot of her storyline deals with visibility vs safety, diaspora and belonging, as well as grief and disconnection

truth as responsibility rather than neutrality

one of the things i care about most in this project is that the people around Khalil are not props for his story. they embody different responses to systems of control, survival, fear, and resistance.