#karamel couch

[sgiandubh]

Jottings: Season 7, Episode 5. Dinna fash, we'll sort it out

The proof is in the pudding: we don't really need to see J&C/S&C all the time on screen, to know an episode is still consistently good, in an overall unexpectedly great season, so far.

Side note: just how hypnotic Bear McCreary's Dance of the Druids must be, to immediately cut all ties to the real world, as you settle on the couch, larva style, with your ice cream (yes! again! B&J's Karamel Sutra Core - more appropriate for last week, but nobody's perfect)?

It would seem this time speed gave precedence to density and even gravitas, because neither war, nor self-assertiveness are jokes. The main theme of the mysteriously named Singapore seems to be the obvious cause and effect relationship between prejudice and miscommunication, or even lack thereof. It doesn't really matter if the year is 1777 or 1979: men will be men, women will be women and idiots will be idiots, regardless of gender or nationality. Tonight, for instance, an accomplished French idiot, which is ironic and a tad unfair to watch, seconds after Bastille Day (this comes from a place of deep love, familiarity and appreciation). But almost all of them will face authoritarian idiocy in this episode: I will let you discover (remember: nothing but minimal spoilers).

Still embarrassed for SS, whose vital signs seem to be on display only when she is a) crying and b) pissed off because of someone or something. For the pub scene with the gang of morons from the plant, she could have borrowed a wealth of JAMMF's expression tricks (for which S is the absolute ace) and I suspect she tried but, yet again, failed to persuade: the only thing that she seems remotely acquainted with is the smirk. And I will not insist on the torturous rendering of maternal love or domestic bliss. I feel merciful tonight and sometimes mercy is just about the same as oblivion (not a word about that vanishing panties scene, do you hear me?). Maybe this is also why RR still seems more relaxed, but perhaps also totally resigned about a situation that must be dealt and be done with a stiff upper lip, for the cause.

Product placement alert, with the Barbour wax jackets and shirts (long time client, here) prominently featured at Lallybroch. Nothing magic. This is a long-term partnership, maybe also S's contribution. Yes, Mordor, that peasant did it again!

A propos of the plant inspection, the tunnel scene sent powerful The Man in the High Castle vibes, from the set to the running through well, something, for lack of a better word. For those who have not seen this excellent series, here's a good Droughtlander plan. It's all about Jude Law and the Japanese guy; and also Philip K. Dick, one of my beloved science-fiction writers, truly a genius.

Spoiler: "You can thank that rotten stew". Ohai, Vandervaart, sweet summer child. Too fleeting a presence on my screen, yet you nailed your scene with Rachel Hunter, which I proclaim my favorite of this episode. The scenery helps, that pre-dawn murky, metallic light is perfect and you found the right balance between disgust, horror, an adrenaline high, fear, uncertainty and yes, unspoken (maybe even unconscious) attraction. Also, a masterful use of voice, pitch and breathing techniques - what's not to like?

A close second but enthusiastic kudos for Young Ian. John Bell is wonderful in his scene with C. which, again, gave me life imitates art vibes. And even more moving is the dense moment with the Cherokee/Scottish son, for I believe that endearing boy with a Fraser smile is Young Ian's.

These jottings are unable and unwilling to ignore S, very busy shaping Jamie's hero stature in short, effective appearances. Something we will probably see in full force next week, when I shall be out of town and not watching. Still, rejoice: the Jottings will be making it a double in two weeks.

[mrowmrowmrow9]

@themoonfortress you probably don't even remember this, but a million years ago I asked for AU ideas and you mentioned a karamel witness protection AU where they have to pretend to be a couple. Surprise, I actually wrote like 1500 words and a rough outline for it, but somewhere along the way the inspiration petered out and I never ended up finishing it. While I'm sharing unfinished stuff, I thought you might like to see what I had <3 Sorry it never got to the publishing stage!

Reading it back I'm disappointed that I lost the groove, this was a lot of fun to imagine! The rest of the plot will remain a secret, just in case ;)

Title: Survivors

The apartment was tiny. Incredibly tiny.

And Mon-El didn’t just think that because he grew up spoiled rotten in a mansion—the space was literally smaller than his living room. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out how two people were supposed to live here together. If they had virtually no concept of personal space, maybe. But that’s not typical for a couple of perfect strangers.

It was a bit of a relief when his companion’s eyes widened comically, mirroring his as she took in the room. “It’s…so…small.”

“Yup,” Mon-El breathed out. 

“I mean, it’s about the same size as my apartment,” Kara continued and he cringed. “But for two people…”

Perfectly in sync, their eyes moved over to the single bed in the corner…the one that couldn’t possibly, by any stretch of the imagination, be meant for two people. 

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he decided. 

Her head jerked over to him. “What? No, I’ll take the couch.”

He blinked, surprised by the sudden resistance. “It’s fine, I really don’t mind.”

“Well, I do. That thing’s barely bigger than the chair! You’re taller, so you take the bed.” 

Mon-El resisted the urge to groan out loud. He just wanted to sleep, preferably without feeling guilty about taking the more comfortable option. But of course she had to be stubborn about it. “Fine. Whatever, suit yourself.”

They dropped their bags on the table and Kara pointedly turned her back to rummage through her bag as he undressed. Kind of. They weren’t given any pajamas (or much of anything, really) but he settled for taking off his jacket and jeans and slipping into the bed in his t-shirt. 

It was even stiffer than it looked, the mattress paper-thin. Mon-El closed his eyes. He heard the sound of fabric rustling, and the creak of the couch spring as Kara laid down on it, followed by more creaking over the next several minutes as she attempted to get comfortable. He sighed and buried his face into the pillow.

After a while he heard a disgruntled huff, and then there were footsteps and the mattress dipped with the weight of another body.

“Look, can you, uh…”

Mon-El shifted enough for her to crawl in behind him, against the wall. She’d followed his lead and stripped down to a t-shirt and socks, her bare legs brushing his as they jostled together, trying to get comfortable. The bed really wasn’t meant for two people. Finally they settled with him on his back, taking up most of the space (it was only fair, he reasoned somewhat grumpily, he had been there first) and her curled on her side with her back to the wall. Try as they might, the bed wasn’t quite big enough to avoid touching and her knee pressed into his thigh, her arm grazing his shoulder. 

“Sweet dreams,” Mon-El muttered, and hoped sleep would come for him quickly. 

***

It did. But not without a price. 

He dreamt of the day it all started, the day his life came crashing down around him. And coincidentally…the day he met her.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Gand.”

“Please, it’s just Mon-El. Mr. Gand is what everyone calls my father.”

Kara awkwardly chuckled along with him and withdrew her hand, nervously wringing it with the other. “Um, would you by chance know where her office—”

“Right, yeah, of course. Follow me.” Mon-El led her down the hallway, glancing back every now and then to make sure she was following him. Despite his words, he was already dreading taking her to meet his mother. Someone like her—young, earnest, eager to make a good impression—was exactly the kind of person Rhea relished in tearing apart, shattering their spirit with nothing but her words. She might’ve been chosen as their new maid out of countless others, but he doubted she’d last a week.

Perhaps it was better that way. One less person dragged into the dark, twisted life his family led.

He’d shown her to Rhea’s office, and found the door ajar. He should’ve run then, should’ve known better than to walk into that room, least of all with an innocent girl by his side, but that was exactly what he’d done. And they were both paying the price for it.

“Father?” he whispered hoarsely, unable to look anywhere but the body lying limp on the floor, surrounded by a pool of red. The body that had once been his father.

Rhea slowly rose to her feet, adjusting her grip on the blood-streaked knife as she trained her eyes on Mon-El and Kara like a predator gazing upon its prey. No, not like a predator. She was one. 

“Go,” he whispered.

“W-What?”

“Don’t think, Kara, just GO!” Mon-El grabbed her arm and pulled her with him as they sprinted from the room. He clomped down the stairs, deliberately making a racket and sure enough, the other servants started to fill the hallway, wondering what was causing the disturbance.

He knew exactly what was going through his mother’s mind; she had just committed a crime and he and Kara were the only witnesses. If they talked, her reputation would be ruined and if there was one thing Rhea cared about, it was the family’s image.

That alone ensured she wouldn’t kill him and Kara in front of the entire house, but it wouldn’t guarantee safety for long. They had to get out of there.

And never look back.

The best idea the police department could come up with was a witness protection program, and a flimsy fake identity that would never be enough to keep his mother from finding him. Nothing ever was. He remembered being a little boy, hiding in closets or underneath mahogany desks, his heart pounding, while Rhea’s footsteps thundered through their mansion as she yelled that he’d better come out right now, you stupid little boy, or so help me Rao I’m going to— 

It didn’t matter. That was in the past. The point was clear: she always found him. And she would again.

Kara smiled at him, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she followed him up the stairs.

He just hoped he didn’t take her down with him.

***

In contrast to the way she fell asleep, Kara woke up warm and comfortable. She sighed and shifted closer to the source of that pleasant heat, squinting her eyes against the sunlight. Wait a minute. She opened them just a sliver, and discovered that her entire field of vision was obscured by black fabric. Also, the pillow she was holding onto felt unusually…muscular? 

Well, that was embarrassing. As memories from the last twenty-four hours came flooding back, Kara realized that the “pillow” was indeed a person. Somehow during the night they’d moved even closer together and now her hand was curled around Mon-El’s bicep, her head nestled against his shoulder. 

Delicately she attempted to remove herself from his personal space, letting go of him and scooting away until her back hit the wall—which lasted about two inches. Double bed, her ass. At least he was warm. Whatever heating system the apartment had had was clearly out of service judging by the frosty temperature. Kara drew up the covers to her chin, still feeling embarrassment at how she’d subconsciously clung to him during the night, despite barely knowing the man. She supposed it was probably a habit left over from her years in the foster system, when a loose grip on your pillow or phone or book or whatever meant a strong chance an older kid would steal it. She’d never quite managed to let go of that feeling of being on edge, always on the lookout for danger. The little scars dotting her arm twinged in remembrance.

Mon-El suddenly shifted and yawned, thankfully stretching his neck at the same time so Kara was spared from a stranger’s morning breath in her face. He squeezed his eyes shut almost immediately, understandable given the lack of blinds in their stupid apartment, and then scooted forward and…wrapped an arm around her waist?

“Um,” Kara said.

He mumbled something incoherent, and then seemed to wake abruptly, jerking away from her as his eyes snapped open. “Uh…hi.”

“Hi.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the awkwardness thick in the air, and then Mon-El sighed and threw the covers back. “I need some fucking coffee.”

***

The only caffeine to be found in the apartment was some crappy instant coffee like what Kara usually bought (it was the cheapest she could find). She’d grown accustomed to the taste and didn’t really mind it, but she guessed Mon-El didn’t feel the same, judging by the way he grudgingly accepted it from her and badly disguised a grimace after the first sip. He was probably used to something more expensive, exported from a faraway country where children did the labor for pennies before the product was ready to be shipped off to National City’s wealthiest. She imagined he got the darkest, most bitter kind and drank it black, with no milk or sugar. Like a sociopath.

(It was possible Kara needed to rein in her imagination when it came to judging her rich employers—ex-employer now, she supposed. Although she was usually right, so.)

[hitchell-mope]

Valentine’s Day 2024. Supergirl edition.

Karamel. Bought and tested out their Halloween costumes for this year. Hint. There were swords involved. All with a regency fair.

Dansen. Family dinner with Esme. The kitchen looks like a sauce drenched, flour covered hellscape. But the pizzas came out great.

Brainia. Went to the swankiest restaurant in the city and spied on two people they set up. Their dinner went well. The blind date. Not so much.

James x Lucy. Sparring inside the training room at the DEO that “continued” inside their apartment. And well into the next morning.

Winn x Samantha. They had planned a night of Grand Romance. But instead they fell asleep the couch. Winn found the ring the next morning.

William and Andrea. The aforementioned set up. The dinner itself went mostly okay. But Andrea did not like waking up in her bed hugging a bucket with William asleep in the chair. Not when she’d hoped it had gone another, far more pleasurable, way.

Lena. Growing gradually more incensed at all the highly expensive takeout being delivered to her door after an argument with Maxwell.

Maxwell. Laughing to himself as he keeps ordering highly expensive takeout to be delivered to Lena’s door after the aforementioned argument.

[thisis-elijah]

⌛ — something with your dad.

  ㅤㅤㅤWarme Sonnenstrahlen weckten Elijah durch die weißen Vorhänge, die der Wind immer wieder in das Zimmer trug. Das Fenster war offen und die Staubpartikel, die sich in der Luft befanden, reflektierten das Licht. Sobald sich der feine Staub mit den Pollen, die durch das offene Fenster herein getragen wurden, vermischte, sah es aus, als würde feiner Sprühregen in dem Gästezimmer nieder regnen. ㅤㅤㅤEs war der 20. März, drei Monate nach der Jahrtausendwende, und der Junge aus Fairbanks war nicht bei sich in der Heimat, nicht bei seiner Mutter und seinem Stiefvater, sondern im sonnigen Philadelphia; dem Ort, an dem sein leiblicher Vater schließlich sein Zuhause gefunden zu haben schien. Es ehrte Elijah, dass er seinen Vater in Philadelphia besuchen durfte. Denn Alex ⸺ der Mann, der seine Mutter geschwängert und kurz nach der Geburt hatte sitzen lassen ⸺ hatte seinem Sohn als Geburtstagsgeschenk erlaubt ihn in hier zu besuchen. Das war das schönste Geschenk, welches der Junge an seinem sechsten Geburtstag bekommen hatte. ㅤㅤㅤDer Grundschüler hatte, im Rahmen dieser Einladung, sein hart erarbeitetes Geld zusammengespart, hatte Schnee geschippt für die Menschen, die man als 'Nachbarn' bezeichnen konnte, auch, wenn ihre Häuser stets einige, wenige Kilometer entfernt waren. Mühselig war der Brünette durch den Schnee gewatet und oftmals erst weit nach Anbruch der Nacht nach Hause gekommen; durchgefroren, aber mit dem breitesten Lächeln der Welt auf den Lippen. Auch, wenn die hart verdienten 160$ nicht ausreichten, so bot ihm seine Mutter, in Rücksprache mit seinem Stiefvater, an, dass sie den Rest finanzieren würden und sofern er eine Woche weg bliebe. Um selber so etwas wie Urlaub zu haben. ㅤㅤㅤEr wachte auf, als die Sonne aufging und nahm das Bild, was sich vor ihm bot eine Weile lang in sich auf. Es roch anders als zu Hause, weniger nach Holz, sondern mehr nach Whiskey, dem Aftershave seines Vaters und einem süßlichen Duft von Karamell. Am Vorabend hatten sie sich Popcorn gemacht und The Big Lebowski geschaut; ein Film, den Elijah zwar nicht verstand, aber einfach lachte, wenn sein Vater es tat. Die längste Zeit war dieser Film sein Lieblingsfilm. ㅤㅤㅤDas Gästezimmer wurde in ein sanftes, fast gelblich wirkendes Orange getaucht. Der Baum vor dem Fenster des Gästezimmers warf Schatten auf den Boden neben seinem Bett, feine Lichtspiele tanzten über die Dielen und der Sechsjährige spürte eine Vorfreude in sich aufsteigen, die ihres Gleichen suchte. Egal welche Abenteuer er heute mit seinem Vater bestreiten würde, er wäre auf jeden Fall gewappnet. ㅤㅤㅤVorsichtig klopfte er an der Schlafzimmertür seines Vaters, ehe er behutsam die Tür öffnete, ihn musterte, wie er schlief. Neben ihm lag eine Frau, die nicht Elijahs Mutter war und sie sah zu ihm, als er im Türrahmen stand. "Your kid's awake", nuschelte die Blondine undeutlich gegen den Oberarm des Mannes neben ihr, rüttelte leicht an ihm, ehe er sich müde aufrichtete und zu seinem Sohn sah. ㅤㅤㅤ"Wait outside, Elijah", brummte er verschlafen und ließ sich zurück in das Bett fallen, woraufhin sein Sohn nickte, die Tür schloss und sich im angrenzenden Wohnzimmer auf die Couch setzte, still wartete, bis sein Vater Zeit für ihn hätte. Elijah war ein aufgewecktes Kind, aber nicht zwangsläufig laut, insbesondere dann, wenn er es nicht durfte. Frank, sein Stiefvater, hatte ihn oftmals in die Schranken gewiesen, wenn er zu laut war, weshalb der Junge irgendwann nur noch sprach, wenn er gefragt wurde. So umging er die unschönen Auseinandersetzungen und es fiel ihm leichter den Vorzeigesohn zu mimen, der er immer sein wollte.

ㅤㅤㅤDie Blondine hatte das Schlafzimmer alleine verlassen, der Junge hat ihr dabei zugeschaut, wie sie sich die Schuhe neben ihm anzog und er musterte sie kurz. Sie war hübsch, hatte feine Gesichtszüge, hellgrüne Augen mit bernsteinfarbenden Farbpigmenten um die Iris und ein nettes Lächeln. "Are you in love with my Dad?", fragte Elijah sie schließlich und die junge Frau schien etwas perplex bei seiner Frage, sie zog die Augenbrauen zusammen und lachte dann leise. Der Sechsjährige verstand nicht recht warum sie lachte. ㅤㅤㅤ"No, I'm not. Your dad just loves college football, chemicals and...⸺ women", schmunzelte sie kopfschüttelnd, sie schien mehr mit sich selbst zu Reden als die Frage zu beantworten. Die Frau stand auf, richtete ihr Kleid und strich über das Haar des Sohnes ihres One-Night-Stands. Elijah verstand nicht so wirklich was sie mit ihrer Antwort versuchte zu sagen, aber er nickte nur verstehend, im Wissen das Erwachsene es nicht mochten, wenn Kinder dauernd Rückfragen stellten. "Your dad's awake. You can go in there", sprach sie weiter und deutete mit einer Kopfbewegung in Richtung des Schlafzimmers.  ㅤㅤㅤElijah knetete seine Hände, folgte ihrem Blick zum angrenzenden Raum, sah dann doch wieder hoch zu ihr. Zögerlich stand er auf, kaute auf der Innenseite seiner Wange, bevor er achtsamen Schrittes in Richtung des Schlafzimmers ging. Sein Blick ging erneut zurück in das Wohnzimmer, vermutlich nur, um sich noch ein weiteres Mal versichern zu lassen, dass es wirklich in Ordnung war in das Schlafzimmer zu gehen, auch, wenn sein Vater zuvor was anderes gesagt hatte. Doch die Frau, die seinen Vater nicht liebte und dennoch mit ihm in einem Bett schlief, schloss die Tür zu dem kleinen Bungalow hinter sich. Jetzt musste er mutig sein. ㅤㅤㅤVorsichtig kletterte er zu dem Mann ins Bett und musterte ihn eine Weile, wie sein Brustkorb sich hob und senkte. Zögernd kam er näher und überlegte sich zu ihm zu legen. Doch wie er seinen Vater kennen gelernt hatte mochte er Berührungen nicht so gerne. Zumindest nicht von ihm, bei Frauen war er da anders. Vermutlich meinte die Blondine das: Dass er Frauen gerne mochte. Er vermied es ihn zu berühren, aus Angst, dass er ihn zurück nach Fairbanks schicken würde und dafür war ihm der Preis zu hoch. Behutsam weckte er den Mann, der seine Augenbrauen zusammen zog und sich wegdrehte. "Nah, Elijah, not now", sagte er und zog die Decke höher, was Elijah amüsierte, woraufhin er die Decke herunter zog, ihn erneut leicht am Arm rüttelte und ihm dann doch näher kam. Was ihn dazu getrieben hatte die Grenzen seines Vaters missachten konnte er bis heute nicht erklären. Mit seinem Körper lag er halb über dem seines Vaters, lächelte breiter auf und musterte ihn. "What are we doing today?", fragte er, wobei er seine Aufregung kaum verstecken konnte. Selbst, wenn er als Antwort nur ein "Was auch immer" bekommen hätte, wäre er vermutlich freudestrahlend bei ihm geblieben und hätte sich seinen Tag nicht schöner ausmalen können.

ㅤㅤㅤLetztlich hatte der Junge seinen Vater noch schlafen lassen, war aber zu wach und zu aufgeweckt, als dass er sich noch hätte schlafen legen können. Schon bevor er das Flugticket hatte wusste er, dass er sich, sobald er bei seinem Vater wäre, nur von seiner besten Seite zeigen würde. Denn irgendwo in ihm war Hoffnung. Hoffnung, dass er vielleicht bei seinem Vater bleiben könne, anstatt an einen Ort zurück zu kehren, der sich nicht wie ein Zuhause anfühlte. ㅤㅤㅤVorsichtig ließ er etwas Butter in der Pfanne zerlaufen, bevor er den flüssigen Teig in die Pfanne gab und zusah, wie er langsam an Glanz verlor, matter wurde und sich feine Löcher an der Oberfläche bildeten. Sein Frühstück, wenn er Zeit hatte, bestand aus allem, was Kinder sich morgens machen würden, ließe man sie täglich entscheiden. Pancakes, Waffeln, zuckersüßes Müsli, manchmal auch Süßigkeiten. In seiner Heimat frühstückten sie selten. Sein jüngerer Bruder, David, hatte morgens keinen Hunger und wenn er nicht aß, machte es für Marion und Frank wenig Sinn, groß Frühstück für Elijah aufzubereiten. Gerade, als er den vierten Pancake auf den Teller neben dem Herd aufgeben wollte kam er mit seinem Zeigefinger der Pfanne zu nah und verbrannte sich. Er hisste leicht und ließ die Pfanne los, welche recht unsanft auf der Herdplatte aufkam. Das Scheppern ließ den Jungen zusammenzucken, er schaute auf seinen Finger, der leicht gerötet war und erschrak, als er plötzlich jemanden hinter sich spürte. Alex' warme Hände legten sich an die Arme des Jungen, er zuckte zusammen und sah zu seinem Vater hoch, entschuldigte sich mehrmals für sein Versehen und erklärte, dass er nur Frühstück für ihn machen wollte. Doch der Amerikaner blieb ruhig und beachtete die Entschuldigungen seines Sohnes nicht. Stattdessen ging er mit ihm zu dem Waschbecken links neben dem Herd, drehte das kalte Wasser auf und Elijah sah mit seinen großen blauen Augen zu ihm hoch. Er weinte nicht, das tat er ohnehin selten und machte keinen Mucks, um ihn nicht zu verärgern. "Better?", fragte Alex seinen Sohn, der nur stumm nickte und auf seine Hand blickte, umschlossen von der Größeren seines Vaters. ㅤㅤㅤ"Better...", begann er, zögerte kurz und lehnte sich an den Körper seines Vaters, der hinter ihm stand. Elijah traute sich nicht zu ihm hochzuschauen, aus Angst, dass er doch wütend war. "Thank you, Dad", murmelte er leise. ㅤㅤㅤ"No, Elijah, it's Alex, not Dad." ㅤㅤㅤ"Sorry... Thank you, Alex."

[facepalming-since-chernobyl]

Karamel Fanfic (from the anon who said they were gone for 2 yrs):

Chapter 1: Too Good at Goodbyes

"I'm sorry... Kara, you know I didn't choose to do this but it's our only way of saving the planet..." Mon-El cupped the cheeks of his wife who was tearing up about losing him and their family again. However, both of them knew, Saturn and it's forces were not going to give Earth and it's inhabitants any bit of mercy unless they get what they want.

Supergirl and Valor...

The heroes who built and led the Legion of Superheroes for hundreds of years. Perhaps, now was the time they were bound to part ways.

Mon-El went to Saturn after a long and heartbreaking confession with Kara, he talked to their General and hesitantly agreed to their conditions.

"I shall marry your daughter, but promise us that you and your army will leave Earth alone in peace."

Despite being extremely distasteful and broken on the inside, Mon-El acted sternly and intimidating to save his family and the planet.

"Very well, the wedding shall happen tomorrow in a public ceremony in Saturn." The General grinned and smirked due to his victory.

Mon-El returned to his house and helped Kara and the children (who were grown adults) packed so they can move someplace else far from him to avoid any rumors that can break the agreement.

Their second child, Kalex, questioned his father. "Dad, after all this time, you're gonna leave us behind. Do you wish to say a final message to each of us?" The boy was fuming on the inside, but like his father, kept calm and tried to understand the situation.

"Son, I hope you-"

"I understand dad, I just wanna know what you have to say for us."

Mon-El sighed softly as all of their children gathered along with Kara on the couch. No matter how stubborn or mischievous these grown adults are, he will always love them more than anything in the universe along with their mother for they are his kids and the product of his love for Kara (and vice versa).

"Kara, my love, thank you for giving me a chance to live the life that I didn't knew I wanted. You will always be the best thing that ever happened to me, the best I've known and I'll keep loving you with all I left in this universe. As long as Rao watches, I shall and will never love another."

Kara slowly nodded, previously, she had a breakdown and didn't understand the situation but after a hundred years, after all that she had seen, this was no longer that common to her.

"Kalex, my first son. I can see through you that you're angry with all of this yet you keep trying to understand everything. You've always been disappointed in yourself for not having any powers but son, I'm really proud of you."

The boy with blond hair and brown eyes slightly gave a heartfelt smile to his father.

"Mara, I know you're secretly planning a universal revolution-"

"Took the words right off my mouth, dad!"

"It's not a good idea at the moment, Mara. You've always been just like your mother, driven and had a wildfire within you. You're gonna inherit my position someday, I hope you choose wisely and do what's best for the people."

Mara saw her dad as a very patient man who knew his way through everything. Therefore she admired him and nodded in respect. She was still going to do that revolution tho-

Mon-El turned to his youngest children. Twins Karina and Monica who looked so much like Kara but are polar opposites. Karina is a typical Daxamite who reminded Mon-El of himself before the doom of the planet while Monica is almost a replica of his wife when he first met her, she wears glasses, acts awkwardly and was once a writer.

"Karina, I misunderstood you a lot and I've not given you any affection compared to your siblings... But I hope that you'll find your way through this just like anything else. Monica, you've always been strong and free spirited, may you guide me and the rest of the us towards peace. I love you both."

He hugged them tightly and almost teared up seeing their cold glares when he broke the hug.

I love you all...

He thought in his mind, that something they all knew very well but should be reminded during hardships.

~~~

After helping the rest of the family pack and eventually got them a ship to move away. He went to the Fortress of Solitude to say goodbye to someone special.

His first child, Hope.

The first child he and Kara had who has conceived during a one night stand when he time travelled back to the 21st century hundreds of years ago.

The girl with blond wavy hair and blue eyes shared many features with Kara yet when you look at her, she looks exactly like Mon-El and gives off even the same energy as him.

"I heard about the news."

"I'm sorry Hope, you must understand."

"Of course I do, tho it's only a matter of time before I do something that may give us justice."

"Hope, Saturn promised us peace. That's why I'm marrying Imra."

"And tell me, why should we rely our peace to Saturn? We can achieve that on our own and you know very well that the General never stays true to his word."

Hope stared at her father coldly while voicing out her opinion on the matter. Mon-El tried to explain his side.

"Saturn is holding the entire planet hostage, one major attack from them could annihilate all of us"

"They won't be able to do that when we annihilate them first."

"Hope-"

"Don't worry, I won't do anything for now. I'm waiting for the right time and settle this plan with Mara. You may go now, goodbye."

"Hope, child, I love you."

"It pains me that you still have to say that..."

Mon-El looked at his daughter worriedly and flew away while Hope is looking for information in the Fortress. She never looked at her father while he was talking, no... not this time. But minutes after he left, she cried quietly and tears flowed down the ice of the Fortress...

Thanks for sharing!

[iminyourhandskara]

2x07 is a pretty heavy episode but the karamel scenes are so sweet🥺 the first couch scene is so underrated but so good🫶🏻

there's few karamel scenes in 2x04 but whewwwww they hit so hard

and then 2x05 would be a perfect episode if the villain of the week wasnt so annoying 😭 but it remains one of my all time favorites

[moved-to-naltorians-blog]

oh yeah karamel and monel are really popular ,,, definitely

[blckthrns]

I feel like the one who got his heart broken again was me, not Kara

[wlwynonnaearp]

am i the only one who thinks that this 

looks like this

and that this

sounds like this

[breathofthedice]

List of Het Ships Healthier than Karamel

1. Percabeth (Percy Jackson and the Olympians)

2. Hazel/Frank (Heroes of Olympus)

3. Jason/Piper (Heroes of Olympus)

4. Wondertrev (Wonder Woman)

5. Abby/Jed (The West Wing)

6. Donna/Josh (The West Wing)

7. Parker/Hardison (Leverage)

8. Clarisse/Joe (Princess Diaries)

9. Kim/Ron (Kim Possible)

10. Snowing (OUAT)

11. Rey/Finn (Star Wars)

12. Han/Leia (Star Wars)

13. BatCat (Batman)

14. Harry/Ginny (Harry Potter)

15. Molly/Arthur (Harry Potter)

16. Salex (The Bold Type)

17. Jane/Pinstripe Guy (The Bold Type)

18. Sutton/Richard (The Bold Type)

19. Spitfire (Young Justice)

20. Robin/Starfire (Teen Titans)

You all want healthy heterosexual ships, go watch these shows/read these books and leave your dumpster fire behind.

[hudsonwood]

kara & mon-el + kara's apartment

[exgayposititties]

CW: *gives us monel, a shitty ass hero*

Us: no take it back and give us a good person

CW: *gives us sam, an awesome soccer mom.* Oh yeah she’s also evil ;)

Us: keep it but make it good

CW: *gives monel back*

Us: *crying*

[mrowmrowmrow9]

If you're feeling sad today, here is 300 words of karamel making out :)

Full, smutty version coming soon to ao3!

***

“Okay?” Mon-El asks, resting his forehead on hers. 

He can see a half-smile already forming on Kara’s lips. “Okay,” she whispers back.

Their lips meet again and it’s a little deeper this time, a little more purposeful. There’s this desire that comes from somewhere deep inside, to be as close to her as possible, and their current position awkwardly perched on the edge of the couch isn’t really helping matters. 

So Mon-El moves his hands to Kara’s waist and shifts them both, rocking her back so he can kiss her down into the throw pillows at the end of the couch and oh it is just like the first time but better. Her arms are wrapped around his neck and she has a hand in his hair, fingernails gently scratching at his scalp and it sends shivers down his spine.

Touch, smell, taste. The skin of her waist is warm and soft where his hands rest there, under her shirt. She smells like his soap. The inside of her mouth tastes a little like his French onion soup but mostly just like her, the way it always has.

They part for air and Mon-El directs his attention away from Kara’s lips and kisses a path to his favorite spot, the soft flesh just under her jaw where it meets her neck. She lets out a happy little noise, a quiet mmm as he covers her pulse point with wet kisses, grazing with his teeth gently and then less gently. He gives the mark he’s just made a little kiss and Kara makes another breathless sound, one that’s a bit like his name and Mon-El smiles against her.

It’s been so long that he’s almost forgotten what her pulse feels like beating against his lips, how warm her breath is when she exhales shakily in his ear, how every little thing she does makes his heart race. He hopes he doesn’t ever forget it.

[karamell-sweetz]

in the nicest way possible.... what the hell are y'all wearing

[alex-wesley]

MON-EL TO THE ANTIS NEXT SEASON. CAN’T WAIT FOR THIS

Gif by @karamelcoveredolicity

[spookybutch]

karamels who are like "mon el is on a hero's journey" like oh word didnt realize a hero's journey included berating an actual hero and abandoning your people to die twice