Two Skeptics And A Believer Walk Into A Haunted Room...
Tommyinnit x reader
Word Count: 2.3k
Summary: Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke right? But, it just so happens to be a very accurate description of you, Tommy, and Jack entering the Ram Inn for your guest appearance on the Sam and Colby youtube channel
You Belong With Me
Steve Harrington x reader
Word Count: 3.1k
Summary: A Taylor Swift "You Belong With Me" songfic
Weak Point
Davos Blackwood x Bracken!reader
Word Count: 6.2k
Summary: It was a well known fact that the Blackwoods and the Brackens hated one another, the houses would die before agreeing on anything. And it stayed that way until Davos Blackwood realized he might share one thing with the Brackens after all, his weak point.
Overall Summary: Finnick is tired. Tired of the Capitol, tired of being a victor, tired of being the golden boy, tired of pretending. Then she comes along, and it's nothing like he expected. Slowly, finding pieces of himself, and a friend, in someone he never would've imagined in his wildest dreams.
BLANKET WARNINGS FOR THE SERIES: HEAVY themes, implied and referenced but not explicit SA and prostitution, Snow is a horrible person, finnick is traumatized, reader tries her best, female but otherwise ambiguous reader, alternating POVs
Summary: Finnick just needs one night to himself. To sit, and be on his own, but Snow always seemed to crash his plans one way or another. This time, it's his daughter, suddenly signing her name onto his once free night.
aka, I'm finally posting this fic almost a year later
Word Count: 5k
Warnings/Notes: hurt/comfort, HEAVY themes, implied but not explicit SA and prostitution, Snow is a horrible person, y/n used like once, not exactly romance, more like pre-pre romance, finnick is traumatized, reader tries her best, female but otherwise ambiguous reader, kinda edited but not really
It had been almost a month since he left his homeāwell, house, nothing quite felt like home anymore. Not in the Victors Village of District Four.Ā
The Victors Village. What a joke. It sounds nice on paper, a place where the winners can peacefully live out the rest of their lives. It felt like years since he knew peace.Ā
Victor, a contradiction on its own. A winner should feel pride, should be happy with their accomplishments, not endlessly tormented by fellow childrenātheir screams wailing in his ears even in quiet, the crimson red that he swears he could still see over his hands in some light. Village? What a nice connotation the word had, cozy homes side by side, welcoming neighborsā¦ no. This āvictor's villageā was not peaceful. It was empty homesāhousesālined side by side, filled with only three living, and dozens of memories of the dead.Ā
It was not true peace, but it was the closest he could get. It was better than here.
The soft crash of the ocean against the sand.Ā
The smell of salt carried up through his window.Ā
The just barely noticeable crunch of sand beneath his feet as he walked over the floorboardsātracked in from when he was too lazy or too tired to wipe his feet after a swim.Ā
The moments when he felt just clean enough, just relaxed enough, to breathe.Ā
Now, it all felt like a dream. Something too hazy and just barely out of reach through the near constant exhaustion plaguing his mind and body. Something he almost found himself believing couldn't possibly exist past the act he painted on every day up. The person behind the mask, slowly going dormant.Ā
He felt dirty.Ā
The makeup clinging to his skin covering the marks from the clients, making sure his complexion remained that perfect clear tan they raved about. The just off-color orange tint feeling more like his skin by the day.Ā
The scent of heavy perfume wrapping around him, slathered on in droves. A sickly sweet blend that paraded itself behind the false name Ocean Waves. It was obvious that it was a Capitol designāthe bottle too gaudy, scent too thick, and name wildly inaccurate. Pulling you in with a false sense of security.Ā
Ocean Waves. Heād picked it himself too, that was another slap to the face. Picked it from a roster of fragrances by name alone at the age of fourteen, stupidly thinking that with all their teams dedicated to appearance and luxury, it would be right. That maybe the smell would take him back home, ease his mind with the tangy smell of the salt.Ā
But like most things it seemed, he was wrong. Assaulted by the thick overpowering sweet and musk mixture, a bastardized version of what they wanted rather than what was.Ā
That should've been the first sign. More poetic now in retrospect than he had ever thought something so menial could be.
The sound of his voice, the cocky lilt didn't even sound like him sometimes. The tone was just too sure, too confident that occasionally he found himself wondering who was speaking, because surely that wasn't him.
The jokes he'd spout to the pretty girls back in Four before his reaping mocking him now. He wished he hadn't taken up the clumsy, boyish charm so soon. Maybe then, he'd have been able to have stopped himself from spouting such useless flirtatious remarks through the interviews to cover up just how uncomfortable he was. Maybe then, the people of the Capitol wouldn't have gotten themselves hooked on it. Maybe then, heād be just a fraction more free.Ā
But it was okay.Ā
His visit would be over soon and heād be back on the train. Watching from the window as industrialization whipped by in a blur, sitting on the edge of his seat, waiting for the moment silver and platinum turned to soft tans and blues.Ā
For now, he would remain, wading through boisterous crowds of fake crooning laughter as if they were the smooth pull of the sea, a smile plastered on his face as if nothing was wrong. Attending the parties he hated, hands grazing unwelcomely over his arms and chest as he passed by. Joking and laughing along with men and women alike, choking down the bile in his throat as they spoke.Ā
āOh! What a shame!ā A man shouted, the blush over his cheeks mirroring that grimy flush that could only appear when one had a few too many drinks. A vision that made his heart beat with panic until he saw the caked on quality that many layers of makeup took on. No, not drunk, just another strange fashion.
A hand, long nails, scratching across his exposed shoulder blades as a woman skulks around his front, āOh darling, you tease me soā she continued off the manās words, hanging off his shoulder.Ā
āDo I now?ā he flirts back, that manufactured confidence rolling off his tongue. A splitting, award winning smile stretched on his face.
The woman bats her eyes, long faux lashes flapping like small wings around her eyes. It amazed him, how they could wear them so easily, they looked so heavy. āOh yes.ā she croons, voice dropping seductively, a bejeweled nail tracing down his chest, stopping where his pants started.Ā
It took everything Finnick had not to recoil.Ā
āAhā the man nodded, catching on quicker than he himself could, āyes, whoever dressed you certainly knew what they were doing.āĀ
He felt like a piece of stale bread, discarded on the sand. Forced to just wait as the gulls swarmed above, beady eyes greedy and hungry.Ā
āI could just eat you upā the woman hums, it almost sounds complimentary. If the words hadnāt been dripping with hunger as her fingers pulled on the waistband.Ā
He just had to withstand it. just get through the party, weather the conversations.Ā
āYouāre almost done.ā He kept repeating in his mind, āJust for a bit longer, youāre almost doneāĀ
And unlike most days, this was actually true.Ā
He was supposed to be free tonight. All he had to do was get through the party without being propositioned.Ā
It was to be a treatāthe words had been said to himāa well deserved rest after a week of nonstop visitors, each leaving with glittering reviews. A treat, Snow had smiled eerily making his skin crawl, no appointments on the books for his company.Ā
At leastā¦ thatās what was supposed to happen.Ā
He shouldāve known it was too good to be true.Ā
Finnickās heart dropped to his stomach when one of the people who ran his schedule while in the Capitol approached him. Breaking up the interaction of the slowly swarming guests, leaning over to whisper into his ear.Ā
He had to force himself out of his mind, back into the present to hear the words. The ghost of nails digging into his arms, the remnants of hands pulling lingering on his skin.Ā Ā
āThe Presidentās daughter requests your presence tonight.ā
With just that one simple sentence, his peace, or at least the peace he had, was shattered. The smile growing just a fraction more strained, though it would never be obvious to the attendees. They never looked close enough to care for things like that.Ā
The plans of just sitting silently in his room. Staring up at the ceiling and enjoying the silence, ripped away in those seven words.Ā
His sliver of freedom, relief, snatched away once again.
The next few hours were a blur. Forced smiles, meaningless conversation. He couldnāt even recall how exactly he got here, two Avox escorting him through the dimly lit halls of the Presidentās house, but itās where he found himself nonetheless.
It was far from his first time in the mansionāPrivate meetings with the older man, signing away one little piece of his soul at a time in a bargain for the safety of others. This, however, was the first time heād walked the interior halls, needing the guides to the residency areas rather than the professional ones.
It wasā¦ strange here. Lived in yet not at the same time. Like pictures in a magazine, a snapshot of what a lonely curator thought a home was. It was perfect on the surface, incredibly ornate, but it was cold. empty.Ā
It didnāt sing the way a home would. You couldnāt see the walls breathing, or life seeping from the corners. It was a house that was too drenched in death. Somewhere only a ghost could live.Ā
Or perhaps it was meant to be cold, heād think bitter as he was guided along, too much warmth, and snow would melt. What else should he have expected from these people, but a fortress made of ice and stone.
He was pulled out of it when the Avox on his left stopped, knocking a fist three times against a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall. It looked the same as all the others lining the hall at first. Heavy thick wood, stained and glossed dark. Until you looked a little closer, where rosesāno not roses, it was some other blossomāwas etched into the grain.Ā
He forced his shoulders to relax, steadying his breath and heart. Forcing down the anxiety he always seemed to get at this point
Loose, relaxed, and confident.Ā
He imagines this is what theatrical performers did. Steadying themselves before stepping onto the stage, into a role that wasnāt him. Not really. That made it easier most days.
Just an hour or two. He thinks to himself, shaking out his arms to force out the tension, mussing up his hair a little more. Just an hour or two, and then the hotel room. Alone. Free.Ā
Just don't screw it up. This isn't just anyone, this is a Snow. Just be the Golden Boy a little longer.Ā
Itās during this quick ritual, that a voice calls from somewhere far inside the room. Signaling he can enter.Ā
Heās drawing on his signature megawatt smile, all teeth and charm, the one everyone seemed to loveāthe one he hatedāwhen he catches the eye of the Avox who knocked.Ā
Finnick flashes a smile, about to make some flippant comment about trying not to be too loud, when he catches a glimpse that gives him pause. He couldn't put a name to it. To the silent sentiment the woman was trying to share.
It took him back to when he was younger. Back after he won, his first extended stay in the Capitol. When he came back to Four, exhausted and strained, sporting both healing injuries from the Games as well as the lingering feeling of hands. Nothing too bad yet, nothing like what was to come, but he knew he didnāt like the way they held his wrists a little too tight. The way theyād talk about him to him.
He hopped off the train, smiling wide for the cameras that met him on the platform. Staring back into the flashing as if willing the exhaustion out of his eyes. It was Mags who guided him to the side, a hand hovering just an inch off his back. Not touching, but still close, a warm guiding light he desperately needed. She always seemed to know what to do.Ā
It was the look she gave him, shooting up as she helped him away. That gentleā¦ something. That āI know it's hard, but youāre okay nowā look. Thatās what the Avox woman was saying now through her eyes. That promise of safety.Ā
And it feltā¦ wrong here. Out of place. He was called to the bedside of the Presidentās Daughter. The spawn of his own personal devil. Surely she was mistaken. He was walking into the lion's den, there was nothing good here.Ā
Maybe she knew that, and he misinterpreted it all together. That she knew how thin the rope he had to stand on was. How all he needed to do was one thing wrong, and heād be punished to the highest order. This wasnāt just any client. Maybe the look instead was more pity than safety.Ā
Yeah. That seemed more accurate.Ā
He looked away from the woman as the other was opening the door, waving him in. Squaring his shoulders and releasing one last exhale, he steps in. Closing the door behind him, seeing the swiftāalmost gentleānod the two gave him through the gap before turning on their heels in sync and gliding away like ghosts.Ā
Strange.Ā
He expected the strong scent of rose. Heād braced himself for it, that nauseatingly heavy and sweet smell as he moved the door, hearing the soft click as it closed. Something so synonymous with the President, that heād thought foolishly, that maybe it oozed from the pores of every Snow. A failed attempt at disarming and friendly, to draw prey close before the strike. Only to try too hard. To show their hand with an aroma so sweet, that began to rot on the way to your nose, immediately noticeable as venom.Ā
But no.Ā
Instead it was something subtler. Sweeter and softer yet far less strong, floating on the air rather than infecting it with a weighted presence. It had his shoulders easing somehow, dropping a little more convincingly into his role.Ā
He turned, looking into the room, thankful sheād been turned away since he doubted he masked his surprise well. It wasā¦ not what he expected. It was so different from the hall, from the office, from the parts of the Mansion he saw before. It seemed soft in here, intentionally so. He supposed every bedroom was meant to be, but he didnāt expect a Snow had the ability to be soft. Or warm. Yet this room seemed to prove otherwise.
His eyes tracked over the space, blankets and pillows. Expensive looking furniture in a dark wood stain. A few lamps with pale shades sparsely placed around the tops of tables, bathing the room in a gentle glow rather than the overly artificial fluorescents heād found most of the Capitol citizensā homes boasted.
To the right, on a smaller chest engraved with the same designs as her door, he found the source of the unique smell. A crystalline vase sat there, a bundle of colorful snapdragons placed there. It was a strange pick, but perhaps it was her thing as the white roses were her fathers. He could remember a garland of familiar looking flowers etched on the outside of her door, so it seemed the most likely option.Ā
Finnick quickly shook himself out of it. He had a job to do. He smiles brightly, pretending he hadn't taken notice of how sheād yet to turn, āLovely evening, wasn't it, Princess?ā he tries, voice dripping in flirtation the way he'd learned they all loved, āIām flattered youāāĀ
āIām not a princessā she interrupts, her back still facing him. Voice unbothered as she pulls the pins from her hair, āIām the daughter of a Presidentā there's a grimace on her lips as she says it, ānot a King.āĀ
He tries not to show how much that throws him off, a toothy smile pulled across his cheeks, āI know.ā he murmurs, blinking back the surprise, slipping back into the act, āWhat should I call you, then? Sweetheart? Baby? Darling?ā he lists, taking a few steps further into the center of the room.Ā
āMm..ā she hums, thin fingers sifting through tresses of hair, āJust my name will do.āĀ
āYour name?ā he repeats incredulously, brows raised, keeping that syrupy teasing tone on his words, āYou want me to call you Miss Snow? Iām all for whatever you want, butāā
āNo, my name. Not titles. Just y/n. That works fine.āĀ
Finnick just pauses for a moment. This, was a brand of weird he didn't encounter often. Usually, clients would jump him the minute he stepped in, croon when he called pet names into the air. She justā¦ sat there? At the vanity. Hell, she hadn't even turned, looked at him once.Ā
Did she want hard to get? Did she want him to woo her?Ā
Before he could open his mouth again, she sighed heavily, āSit down. You're making me anxious.ā Her tone indicated very much that no, she wasn't anxious, but ratherā¦ unbothered.Ā
He listened anyway, reclining on the bed. Sprawling out with a dramatic flare, head propped against his fist. āYouāre going to make me wait?ā he hums, tacking another sultry petname on the end. Because as much as he didnāt want to be here, waiting only meant longer between him and solitude, āHowā¦ mean.āĀ
He continues to try and provoke her, baiting like he assumed she wantedā¦ but she didnāt. She just sat there. Silent. Pulling pins from her hair and unwinding braids. Passing a cloth over her eyes to remove the makeup.Ā
The first time she does turn to look at him, draped over her bed like a meal, she looks wholly unimpressed.Ā
Maybe heās too deep in his head, the act pulled to full affect, because for some reason, that offends him. Why was she looking at him like that? Like he was the inconvenience when she was throwing a wrench in his night off. She had paid him to be here. He didn't want to do this, so why was he the problem?
āWhat?ā he ends up gritting through teeth, the smile straining, threatening to grow sharp instead of easy and lazy, āNo longer looking for a good timeāāĀ
āNever was.ā She hums, moving to stand. The thin dressing gown fluttered around her almost like a cloud as she moved, crossing the room and lifting a trayāone he admittedly, hadnāt noticed on his initial sweep of the interior. āNot that kind anyway.āĀ
He raises a brow, eyes skeptically flitting over the items as she sets it on the sheets before him. Various breads, fruits, and cheeses. āYouāre a strange one, arenāt you?ā he muses, eyes flitting back up, watching.Ā
But she doesnāt take the bait, moving forward instead, āI suppose, it's been a while since you were a tribute. It makes sense you didnāt jump at the food immediately.ā The comments seem more for herself than him. At least until her brows raise pointedly, āDonāt get crumbs in my sheets.ā she trails off, tacking on a āplease.āĀ
Finnick snorts, āIām not an animal, honeyā he feels the smile sharpen, an instinct at this point rather than active choice, āUnless you want me to be.āĀ
She simply hums again, shaking her head gently, now loose hair bouncing a little around her shoulders with the movement. āIām fine, thank you.āĀ
He watches her as she mills about, seemingly doing her nightly routine as if he weren't there at all. Eventually, popping a grape in his mouth with much less suspicion than was healthy in a situation such as this.Ā
āYāknowā he drawls, picking at the embroidery under his hand absentmindedly, āIām starting to think Iām missing somethingāĀ
āMissing something?ā she repeats back.
Finnick hums in confirmation, āIām inclined to believe you didnāt just go out of your way to have me eat a charcuterie platter on your bed, honey. Iām not that airheaded.ā he breathes, a smile unwavering through it all
She simply shrugs, āand if I did?āĀ
āIād say that's highly suspiciousā
āIs that so?ā
āIt is.āĀ
They sit in silence for several seconds on opposite sides of the room. She makes no move to come closer. It was the strangest client he's had to cater to, he's sure of it, yet he finds himself oddly at ease.Ā
Itās when she catches his eye, the suspicion there, barely concealed, that has her running a hand through her hair in exasperation. āIām not going to do anything you know.ā she puffs hands flapping a little at her sides, āthe others usually realize that by now.ā she scoffs.Ā
And he freezes. A confusion lapses now as he moves to push himself up, āWhat?ā he squints across at her, an incredulous laugh, a disbelieving one bubbling up his throat, āI donāt follow.ā he scoffs.Ā
āIā¦ā she speaks, gesturing with a hand as she trails off, as if trying to pull an explanation from thin air. In her defense, sheās never exactly had to explain it before. The others usually just went along with it. āI donātā¦ bookā she chooses the word, because that feels kinder than saying buy, ātime for that reason.ā Sheās talking on exhales, he notices. Brow pinching on the inhale as she thinks, searching for the proper words, and then puffing them out on the exhale.
His head tilts to the side, his own eyes squinting, as if somehow that would help him see her better, to help him understand. āThen why do you?ā he prompts.Ā
āBecauseā¦ā her lips purse, āI know what happens. No oneās exactly subtle about it.ā she scoffs with a shake of her head. For the first time, he sees the bitterness he feels, falling from someone elseās lips. āIt'sā¦ it's cruel. You canāt justāā her jaw tightens, āA lot of things he does are cruel. But this is one of the only things I can actually do to combat at least one of them.ā
āSoā¦ what?ā Finnick asks dry, āYou buy us up, to let us have little tea parties so you can make yourself feel better?ā he scoffs, but itās mostly the defensiveness that's snapping back.Ā
āNo.ā she bites back.
āIt sounds like it.āĀ
āIt's not.āĀ
She sighs heavily, reigning back in her composure, āIt's not. I donātā¦ Iām not saying I deserve someā¦ some prize or something. Iām not saying Iām some saint because I donāt use people.ā
Her eyes drop, and he can see now itās genuine. Not some performance or holier than thou attempt. She feels guilty. The words are tumbling from his lips before he really knows why.Ā
āIām sorry.āĀ
āDonāt be sorry.āĀ
āI am.āĀ
āYou have no reason to be, Iām sorry.āĀ
And a small smile, a peace offering, lifts at his lips. āYou have no reason to be.ā he parrots.Ā
It's not the fake bright smiles either. It feelsā¦ good. A step in the direction of something genuine. A part of him he forgot how to be.Ā
āItās so you donāt have to pretend to be something youāre not.ā She speaks up, the answer that finally felt right coming to her. āItās a performance. I know that. The games, the tours, the parties, theā¦ appointments. It's not easy being here. I know it isnāt, and I was raised to weather it. Iā¦ understand that sometimes you need a place to crash. To reset. Andā¦ that can be hard to find here.āĀ
Sheās right. He hates that sheās right.Ā
āSoā¦ I book timeā she winces as she says it, āSo you guys can have a place to land. Somewhere that my father wonāt see.āĀ
āIronic itās under his own roof.ā he muses, looking around the room until his gaze lands on her again. āYāknow, youāre a lot different alone. Not the scary princess everyone says you are.ā It's teasing, but itās something gentler. Something that comes more easy than the flirtation he cakes on to impress.Ā
āSo are you.ā she hums, tilting her head, ābut, itās easier if everyone thinks that.ā she shrugs, āthat I'm some monster whoāll rip out your hair extensions if I don't get what or who I want.āĀ
āReally.āĀ
She hums with a nod, āāS how I got you here.ā she pops her chin to him. His brows pull in again, silently asking for more information. āTheyā¦ that group? That was surrounding you at the party?ā She asks, āI heard them. Before they approached you. They were at a nearby table, discussing everything they wanted to doā her nose curls in distaste, in anger at the memory, āThey made a plan on how to proposition you.āĀ
Understanding lights up behind his eyes, ābut youā¦ā he hums, watching as she nods along.Ā
So he wouldnāt have had a free night. He wouldnāt have made it out. He wouldnāt have been able to say no.Ā
But sheād gotten him out of it.Ā
The Presidentās Daughter.Ā
The longer he stayed here, talked to her, listened to her, it was harder to see the resemblance.Ā
Her voice brings him out of his thoughts again, āThereās a bathroom attached.ā she offers, tipping her head in the direction of a door on the opposite side of the bed, āYou can shower, if you like.ā A crooked, kind smile lifts at the corner of her lips, āI hear it helps.āĀ
A part of him is nervous. That this was all a lie. That sheād jump him there if he agreed, where he was backed into a corner.Ā
A more exhausted part, just didn't care. It did sound nice. To step into a scalding stream of water. To scrub off the foundation and ghosts of hands on his arms.Ā
So, he nods. Standing and walking to the bathroom, still not quite sure what to make of her.Ā
He stands there under the water for too long. Likely on the spectrum of rude, and he knows that. But it had always been his therapy, and habits are hard to break.Ā
She knocks once while heās in there, and she doesnāt speak or crack the door until he gives express permission. Itās not because she changed her mind, that she did want him all of a sudden, that she knocked at allābut because she had clothes for him.Ā
A new outfit so he didnāt have to put on the too-tight pants and open shirt that reeked of that damn cologne. She didnāt linger either. Simply laying the pile on the sink, and leaving again. The door clicking back behind her.Ā
He wasnāt used to being treated like this. Like he was a real person. Not here. Not anymore.Ā
Eventually, he steps out of the shower. Toweling off and slipping on the clothes sheād brought him. A soft blue shirt and a pair of pants. He was grateful when they ran on the verge of being too large over too small. It was a welcome change.Ā
When he entered her room again, she too, was in pajamas. Perched on a chaise lounge under a light, reading a book. A vase of snapdragons to her side.Ā
Heād grown more relaxed now, confidence more natural, more old Finnick than the grandiose one he plays more than feels. āUnique.ā he comments, her eyes popping up swiftly, following his gaze to the flowers.
Her lips tilt a little, āYeahā she hums. Finnick was good at reading people. He had to be. Thatās how he could see there was more to it than just a pretty flower. He moved back to the bed, leaning back on his hands and watching her. Giving the space to speak.Ā
āIād always liked them, but I picked up this book, like forever ago on hidden symbolismā she begins, gesturing lightly with her hands, and he finds a small unconscious smile tipping at his own lips. He likes watching her speak, he thinks. āSections on colors, shapes, lighting, that sort of thing, and there was this part on flower language. Um, a bunch more boring details and stuff, laterāā she waves off with a laugh, but he finds himself wanting to catch her wrist. To tell her no, he wanted to know the boring details, āI find a section on theseā her fingers pluck up a sprig, looking at it and twisting it in her fingers. āThey actually have a lot of cool meanings and folklore to āemā she watches the petals, he watches her, āthey symbolize strength and protection. They even used to be used as charms to ward off evil hundreds of years ago. So nowā¦ it's not only just a pretty thing I keep in my roomā she shrugs a little sheepish as if saying it aloud makes it silly, the cool little easter egg feeling more childish with each word, ābut aā¦ symbol. That you're safe. Protected here.āĀ
He can tell she feels awkward with the way her lips purse tight, awkwardly offering him the bloom. He takes it, with a gentleness and an easy smile, āThat's... sweet.āĀ
āItās weirdā she strikes down embarrassed, āitās geeky andāāĀ
āItās not.ā he shakes his head, āIt's sweet. Thank you.ā he tips his head down, tracing over the stem where she'd previously held it, āAll sorts of districts, have all sorts of lore and symbols, honeyā the name spills past his lips before he can think much of it, āYouāre not weird for trying. It's sweet.ā he insists, watching that small thankful smile tilt at her lips.Ā
They talk for about an hour after that. Or rather, Finnick kept her talking for an hour after that. Discussing nothing of consequence yet it felt like everything.Ā
It felt real.Ā
It was later he realized, staring up at the ceiling and alone in her bedāsheād curled up on the chaise lounge under a blanket, insistent that he could sleep in the bed alone. Itās what sheād do for everyone, sheād said when he protestedāthat he realized something. He felt like him again.Ā
He felt like Finnick Odair.Ā
His voice, when talking to her, had returned to that register he'd begun to forget. The one that didnāt drip with teasing and flirtation. This girl had somehow helped him find a part of him heād been starting to lose.Ā
He hated the Capitol. That would remain true, but maybe in the morning, he could convince her to request him more often. To stay on his lists. Thenā¦ maybe it wouldnāt be as hard.Ā
Maybe, with this soft place to land, he could remain sane while he was here.Ā
Maybe that Avox woman was right with that look. He would be safe here.Ā
He turned on his side, looking at her bundled under the blanked through the shadows of the room. Listening to the steady puffs of her breath.Ā
āGoodnight, honeyā he found himself whispering into the air, eyes slipping shut. Fading into a dreamless world for the first time in a very long time. A warmth blossoming in his chest that he couldn't quite explain, but he knew he wanted to stay. āThank you.āĀ Because she did make a soft place to land. A place that for the first time in years, felt a step closer to a home.
Would You Fall in Love with Me Again?
Based on the song Would You Fall In Love With Me Again from Epic
Sirius knows exactly the first place he needs to go after escaping Azkaban. He needs to see his girl, even if it's just one more time.
what the hell is thisāthe formula is youāre only supposed to make me cry AFTER the games begin, but this has just been kick to the stomach after kick to the stomach šāāļø
Summary: Sirius knows exactly the first place he needs to go after escaping Azkaban. He needs to see his girl, even if it's just one more time. Based on the song Would You Fall In Love With Me Again from Epic
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings/Notes: hurt/comfort, fluff, reminiscing, mainly sirius pov, sirius being depressed, no use of y/n but heavy on she/her pronouns, you can imagine ben barns or gary oldman not really specific, he just looks kinda crusty because its immediate post Azkaban
i cant believe i'm just now doing a Sirius fic... but i've been thinking about this forever and finally got around to writing it! hope you enjoy!
The moon and stars had long since appearedātaunting him from above.
A deep, troubled history sewn into the sky, the stars pointing and laughing through their silent twinkling at the mangled muttāno, the strayādown below. He wasnāt quite sure exactly how late it really was, but the lack of patrons walking the streets gave some sort of indicator. It was late. Likely too late for what he meant to do, but he couldnāt help himself.Ā
He needed to see her.Ā
So, down the streets and sidewalks of the cozy highland village he went, guided by something instinctual and strong in his chest that seemed to pull him along. Paws, ripped and dry from the cold, padding over sticks and cobbleānone of it really pained him much anymore. The sting of each step nothing compared to the phantom pains that cemented themselves deep into his soul over the last twelve years.Ā
The weathered black dog followed the yellow street lights. Street after street, corner after corner, until he finally arrived, stopping short and looking up at the cottage from the cobbled street.
It had been a pipe dream. A fantasy theyād wondered upon back in their Hogwarts days.Ā
Theyād stumbled upon the old cottageāworn, but clearly lovedāon one of their stolen date nights, scurrying to Hogsmeade through secret passageways, the map tucked on the inside of his cloak. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, hers around his waist, bottles of butterbeer in their free hands as they walked. Laughing and pointing up at the stars as they window-shopped, himself promising to buy her the world if she asked.Ā
He didnāt remember the conversation, but he did remember her. Her hair tousled with night air, resting her temple to his shoulder every so often, her laughāMerlin, her laughāa wild sound heād found only he really had the power to coax from her. The way she would glow, shining impossibly bright, even in memory, under the street lights. Her warmth, tucked into his side. He remembered the way her breath caught when theyād found the cottage on the outskirts of the village.Ā
āItās perfect.ā Sheād whispered to him, the words falling from her lips in a soft breathāand suddenly he began to understand. A life, just the way heād made fun of James for lamenting over, slowly coming together before his eyes. It was perfect. Far enough outside the village for peaceful quiet evenings, but close enough to engage in just as much mischief as they always did.Ā
It became a common conversation after that. The couple lounging on the common room couches, tucked together and whispering of the small cottage. Of the garden that could grow along the side, the rocking chairs on the porch, the makeshift quidditch field heād make when inviting the boys over. They may not have owned it yet, but in mind and in heart, it was theirs.Ā
He couldn't help but feel a mixture of warmth and heartbreak standing here now. He knew she was in thereāthe welcome mat by the door, the vase of flowers on the outdoor table all painfully herābut he couldn't help but feel he was no longer welcome.
Heād missed it all.
Sure, they spoke of itāno, dreamed of itātogether, but he missed it. Sheād done it, sheād made the dream a reality and his heart soared that she didnāt just abandon her happiness because his memory tainted it. This wasnāt theirs, this was hers. Would she even want him here? After everything? It wasnāt true, heād never betray them like that, but she didnāt know that.Ā
He made his way up the lawn, padding up the wooden stairs, only transforming back into him when he stood at the top step. He caught his reflection in the glass as he reached for the door handle, and winced at what he found there.
He was hideous. Thin, broken, and dirty. Hair matted where it once fell in gentle curls, a prison uniform torn and dirt stricken over his shoulders.Ā
His hand faltered, hesitating over the cool metal. She wouldn't want him anymore, he knew that, but he had to see her. Just once. Just one more time, and that would be enough.
So, he reached out.
Something in his heart healed and shattered when the door creaked open, careful to shut it gently behind him. The house was quiet, a warm orange glow from the lamps scattered across the living area. It was cluttered in that homey sort of way, things on every surface, bookshelves stuffed with various volumes and trinkets, but everything still somehow managed to look properly in place. The air here smelled like her, that gentle something that always clung to her skin and clothes almost bringing him to his knees.Ā
He looked around trying to connect the pieces of her life heād missed.
The greatest reliefāother than finding her hereāwas the quiet the cottage held. No sound of another man making her laugh upstairs, or children running across the floorboards. It had been twelve years, heād prepared himself for the possibility, but he wasnāt sure if his heart could take it. The door opened by a man, her peeking over his shoulder, arm curled around his bicep, a band on her finger that Sirius had begun to imagine placing there just months before everything happened.Ā
The soft sound of music drawing his attention over to an old record player. Unkempt brows pulling together at the familiarity of the old machine and the crate at the leg of the table. His chest seized when he recognized why. Stepping closer, he could see it. Etched into the side, crudely carved into the sideboard one night when he got fed up of it being brought out to common room parties and stolen by drunk classmates, was his name. His hand reached out, a trembling finger running over the mark.
Sheād kept it.
And he could almost cry when he looked over at the record spinning, almost at the end. The memories attached to that vinyl. Its cover beaten and ripped, the once sturdy paper soft from years of repeated use. It had been his favorite record, heād told her so one night when heād had her tucked against his chest in his bed, that very record playing low. Told her of what it meant to him, what it got him through.Ā
And here she was, playing it over a decade later, the music once again a soundtrack to another important moment in his life. The world called him one of the worst felons in all of history, but here she was, playing his record, his album.Ā He felt the tears sting his eyes, fingers holding the record sleeve like a lifeline.Ā
A small creek drew him out of his thoughts, tired gray eyes looking up at the stairs, finding the culprit.
She was beautiful.Ā
He didnāt flinch at the way her wand was drawn, pointing at his chestāhe deserved that, he knew he didāhe simply stared, eyes softening anyway. It didnāt matter the defensive stance, the point of her wand directly at him, she was beautiful. Her name, spoken soft and hoarse, slipping past his lips, breathed into the air like a soft prayer before he could help it.Ā
She looked the same, older in that gentle sort of way, aging like a dreamājust as he knew she would. His own personal angel on Earth, hair glowing in the back light, combed and ready for bed, a robe thrown over her shoulders before leaving the bedroom. The lack of smile lines however, did make his heart splinter. She deserved those, she deserved years of happiness and laughter, but that was just another thing heād stolen from her.Ā
Sirius raises his hands slowly, a sign of surrender, āPleaseā he breathes out, āI justā¦ I needed to see you.āĀ
The wand slowly lowered to her side, he could see now, the way she trembled lightly, eyes trained down on him from the steps as if he were a ghost. Chest inflating in a quick breath, his words proving to her that this wasnāt imagined. He was real. He was here.
Sirius however, misread the small shake of her limbs. He sucked in his own steadying breath, was she afraid, or was it rage that fueled her? He knew sheād hate him for what theyād claimed, what heād been accused of, but the fact that she could be afraid heād come to do the very same to her broke him.
āIām not here to hurt you.ā he speaks, voice hoarse and dry, but none of it mattered now, āI swear it to you, I would never hurt you.ā Sirius takes a shaken breath, her silence enough for him to go on. āIām not asking you to forgive meā he speaks low, eyes looking at her as if she were the worldābecause she was his. āIām not asking you to forgive and forget everything, Iām not asking you to take me back into your home and resume where we were. Iād never ask you for that. Merlin knows Iād never fit into your life anymoreā he speaks, a longing, and faint hint of self deprecating bitterness there, āI justāā his breath catches, āI needed to see you again, love.ā
The word slips from his lips, tacked onto the end with the same quiet devotion as always.Ā
She moves, one step down, one closer to him.Ā
Something in him breaks, the need to confess, to repent at the feet of the only grace heād ever known. But he refrained, choosing instead not to burden her with that, the maddened ramblings of innocence he could feel pooling on the tip of his tongue.Ā
He didnāt come here to shatter any perfect picture sheād made for herself without him. He didnāt come here to shove himself back into a life he no longer deserved. He didnāt come here to lament his innocence for an old love to take him back out of pity.Ā
She deserved more than that. She deserved so much more than him.Ā
āI just needed to see you.ā Sirius finds himself repeating in a soft whisper, āIā¦ I wonāt burden you with my presence for long I justāā his voice cracked. Eyes squeezing shut and head hanging low, āJust once, and youāll never need to look at me again, Iāll leave, I swear it.āĀ
He didnāt see it, the way her head cocked to the side, brows pulling a little as her gaze traced over him. The barest hints of heartbreak as her eyes found each and every difference, the bruises and scarring that were never there before. The way his skin was thin and pale over his bones with malnutrition, the dark circles under his haunted gray eyes.Ā
It stills him, his breath catching in his chest when her voice lilted outājust as he remembered, had imagined it cooing goodnight to him as he tried to find sleep on freezing stone floors.
āYouāll leave?ā is all she echoes back. His own self loathing too strong to find the confusion that coats her voice.Ā
āYes.ā he speaks quick, a firm nod accompanying the words, āYouāll never need to lay your eyes on me againāI just needed to see you, say goodbye in my own way since I never had the chanceāāĀ
āWhy?āĀ
That stops him in his tracks, head lifting back to look at her on the stairs. Dark brows pulling, blinking a few times in his own blooming confusion, āWhat do you mean why?ā
Her words are simple, to the point. āWhy are you swearing to leave?āĀ
āYou do not want me here anymoreāāĀ
āI donāt remember saying anything of the sort.āĀ
Sirius sighs as she cuts him off yet again, running a hand through the matted mess of his hair, murmuring her name in exasperation, āIām notāIām not the same.ā he shakes his head, āIām not the person you once knew, Iāā
āYou are not who I once knew?ā she scoffs back.
āNo.ā It comes in a quick, sure response, gray eyes almost mournful as they find their way back up to hers, āIām not. Iām different, Iām broken. Iāve done things, seen things, experienced things thatāthat I will never be able to forget.ā Sirius breathes, āThings, that are burned into the backs of my eyes, into my head that I will never be able to get away from.ā his voice cracks, watching as a steeliness enters her eyes, āIām not who you remember, and I wonāt ask you to pretend I am.ā he breathes, a sad smile pulling at his lips as he begins to step backwards, a stinging appearing in the back of his eyes. āI just needed to see you one more time.ā he whispers, āI can live the rest of my life now, knowing youād found happiness in spite of everything.āĀ
She watches as he begins to step backwards, making his way back through her living room to the door. Ready to walk out of her life, again, over some self righteous claim he was not who she remembered, who she would want anymore.
He didnāt get to make the decision. Not when she could see that he was the same in every way that mattered.Ā Her jaw ticks, speaking before his hand made contact with the door, āYou did it then?āĀ
Sirius pauses, hand suspended in the air over the doorknob. āDid whatā?āĀ
āThe story is right?ā She asks, voice strong, āYou did it? Ratted out the Potters? BetrayedāāĀ
Sirius spins on his heel, eyes alight with a fire he felt only when thinking of their old friend, Peter Pettigrew, up in that freezing cell. He points up at her, āI neverāā he sucks in a breath, nose curling, āever wouldāve betrayed them, and you know that.ā he hissed, āJames was my brother.ā His voice cracking on the name, āI loved themāI wouldāve died before I let that happen.ā He declares.Ā
She only nods, not flinching as his voice raises, as his eyes sharpen at the accusation even from across the room. Sirius still by the door, herself perched up on the stairs.Ā
āYou donāt sound different to me.ā she murmurs back, then.Ā
His face softens, the anger evaporating from him instantly, arm falling back down to his side with a small breath of her name.Ā
āYou claim youāre differentā she speaks, stepping down the last few steps, āYou say youāve changed, that you donāt deserve to be here anymore.ā her eye wander his face, ābut you seem exactly the same in every way that matters.āĀ
Sirius shakes his head, almost disbelieving, āIāmā¦ā he breathes, looking down at himself, āIām not what you remember. Iām not what I used to beāthe pretty charming boy you met at HogwartsāāĀ
āWeāve both aged, Sirius.āĀ
āYou know what I meant.ā he returns, doing everything he could not to melt at the way she says his name. Like itās still something worth saying, a name that still means something.
āI do.ā she nods, ābut I donāt care.āĀ
āYou donāt care?ā he repeats in an unbelieving scoff, and she simply shakes her head.
They stand there for several seconds. In the living room of the house theyād imagined. Twelve years older, a litany of experiences between them that the other had no knowledge of. Over a decade of secrets, stories, when they used to have none. Old lovers, standing across a space theyād dreamed of inhabiting together, in a stalemate. Gazing at each other across time.Ā
He opens his mouth, about to break the quiet when she does first.Ā
āYou're the same.ā She speaks with finality, āIn every way that makes you, you, youāre the same.ā She sucks in full breath, āAnd where you are different it doesnāt matter. Donāt you dare ever try to convince meāor yourselfāotherwise.ā A stern almost angered look enters her eyes, āI know you. I know you, and Iāve waited. I lovedāI love you.ā the firmness waivers, her expression faltering, lips beginning to tremble, āI knew you didnātāI knew you didnāt do it. I knew it was wrong, and Iāve been waiting for you to walk back through that door.ā her eyes shining as the tears begin to gather, āSo donāt you dare try to walk out on me.āĀ
Sirius looks up at her in awe, her strong frame, stern even now as she scolds him, trembling under an impossible weight.Ā
He breathes her name once, and thatās all it takes for the wand to fall from her hand, clattering to the floor.
She moves forward, rushing across the space to him and he matches her with ease, rapidly closing the distance that had been forced between them.Ā
He catches her, a sound catching in his throat the second his arms get the chance to wrap around her. One around her back, the other cupping the back of her head, keeping her close as she slammed into his chest. It felt as if something was slowly healing, being glued back together once she was back in his arms. He squeezed her tight, pressing his face into the crown of her head, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing a firm kiss to her hair.Ā
It was heavenāno, it was home.Ā
He finally felt like he was back at home. His girl in his arms, holding tight around his torso as if he never left. The smell of her shampoo in his nose, her warmth bleeding into his skin, chasing away the chill that had cemented itself there.Ā
āIām here.ā he breathes shakily into her head, squeezing her back when her arms tighten around him, āIām here, love. Iām home.ā itās an assurance both to her, and to him. One they both greatly needed, āIām home.āĀ
āHow long has it been?ā she breathes, words muffled into his chest
āIā¦ā he trails, with a sigh, āTwelve years.ā he whispers into her, holding her tight against him, āThey took me twelve years ago.āĀ
āTwelve years.ā she repeats, hands curling into the back of his clothes.Ā
Sirius simply nods against the top of her head. The tears heād refused to fall finally seeping out of the corners of his eyes. He knows she too is crying by the way the fabric begins to cling to his chest, warm with tears.Ā
And he simply holds her.Ā
āBut Iām here now.ā he chokes, squeezing her, āIām here.āĀ
āDonāt leave.ā she breathes out, small and shaken, āDonāt leave me again, Sirius.ā she pleads into his chest, voice wet with tears as she clings on, āI canāt do that again.āĀ
A light, raw laugh falls from his lips, āI donāt plan on it, love.āĀ
āI missed you.ā she whispers after a moment of silence.Ā
Sirius swallows thick, burying his face into her hair, āI did too, love.ā he whispers hoarse, squeezing her harder, fingers tangling in her hair to keep her close, āI missed you too.ā He presses another firm kiss to her head before his face falls, pressing into the crook of her neck, breathing her in, āMore than you could ever know.ā
iāve really been wanting to start reading comics (iāve somehow found myself deeply in batfamily/redhood/batman/superman etc fandoms) and have no clue where/how to start, not to mention everywhere i look, they seem REALLY expensive.
so if you have any tips/recommendations let me know! ā¤ļø
iāve also seen a lot of videos of absolute batman and want to read, but donāt know if thatās a ābad spotā to start or not.
As someone whoās recently got into comics, I completely understand the money concern. If I didnāt take advantage of the holiday season, I wouldāve spent upwards of $1000 at this point. Also I swear this was supposed to be short but apparently Iām incapable of writing a short response/post.
So in regards to saving money, hereās what I learned. First, check your local libraries. Not all of them will have comic books, but some will and unless your library charges an entrance fee, what do you have to lose? (This is an especially good option if you donāt commonly reread books or are concerned about spending money on books you donāt like (because you WILL end up reading a book at one point or another that leaves you wanting).)
Second, buying a digital copy will always be cheaper than getting a physical copy. In my experience a $20-25 physical comic volume will generally cost about $10 or less digitally. The most egregious example I have off the top of my head is when I was reading through Young Justice 98 I had the options to buy a physical copy of approximately half the series for $125 (+shipping) or a digital copy of the same amount of content for $45. If Iāve managed to convince you, you can buy digital comics through things like the kindle or globalcomix.
Lastly, since youāre getting into DC specifically, they have a thing called compact comics where you can buy a full storyline for $10 (not including tax). They donāt have every storyline (especially since Iām pretty sure this is a more recent thing), but off the top of my head they do have Batman: The Court of Owls Saga, Batman: Hush, and All Star Superman. Also I think thereās a Catwoman story if youāre into that.
As for where to start reading, a lot of seasoned comic book fans, Iāve found, will just say to pick up a comic (any issue with a #1 is a starting point and you can pick up most any volume and not be confused). I agree with this to an extent since you know your taste in reading material more than I or anyone else ever could and reading comics is all trial and error anyways. But if you want a more solid place to start, there are YouTubers and other people online with full lists of recommendations. My personal recommendations goes as follows:
Batman: Year One by Frank Miller is a good place to start since itāll essentially give you the foundations of how Batman is written nowadays plus some lore details (also good if youāre interested in Jim Gordan and Batmanās relationship with the cops because it is not as friendly as some people think it is). Batman: Ego is good but probably not anything you havenāt read/heard before (keep in mind itās entirely character dissection with no plot).
Batfamily stuff is more complicated since thatās a lot of characters so Iām speed running this to the best of my ability:
I donāt know shit about Dick Grayson comics but he first makes an appearance as Nightwing in The New Teen Titans by Marv Wolfman and George Perez and Iāve heard nothing but good things about the current Worldās Finest run by Mark Waid which focuses on Batman, Superman, and (Iām pretty sure) Dick Grayson as Robin (I liked him in Worldās Finest: Teen Titans by the same guy if that helps). Iām sure there are better qualified Nightwing fans to tell you about Nightwing books.
Every time I look up Barbara Gordon recommendations I get Birds of Prey books and I did enjoy the ongoing Birds of Prey by Kelly Thompson.
Iām the wrong person to ask about Jason Todd comics but A Death in the Family by Jim Starlin and Marv Wolfman is bad but worth reading if you want the facts, Batman: Under the Red Hood by Judd Winick has interesting Jason characterization mixed up in a story I have complicated feelings about (I recommend the animated movie over the book any day of the week), I have heard mixed reviews for Red Hood and the Outlaws by Scott Lobdell (Rebirth), nothing but bad reviews for Red Hood and the Outlaws by Scott Lobdell (New 52), and I didnāt like what I read of the Red Hood and the Outlaws webtoon.
Tim Drake first appeared in Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying by Marv Wolfman and I liked it though it was a bit rushed. Young Justice by Peter David is worth the read, Young Justice by Brian Michael Bendis is not. Also, Robin: Tim Drake by Chuck Dixon (this one also has Stephanie Brownās introduction I believe) and Red Robin by Chris Yost are both on my reading list at least.
I liked Cassandra Cain in Birds of Prey by Kelly Thompson and Iāve heard good things about Batgirl by Kelley Pucket.
Iāve heard mostly good things about Damian Wayne in Batman and Robin: Batman Revorn by Grant Morrison (Iāve heard itās about Damian Wayne as Robin with Dick Grayson as Batman) and Iāve mostly enjoyed Super Sons by Peter J. Tomasi. Though be warned these are both Damian when heās newer as Robin so his personality can be a bit grating at times if you arenāt really a fan of him.
As for less character specific batfamily dynamic books, Iād recommend just reading more recent mainline Batman comics since they usually have two or more batfamily members interacting. I havenāt seen/heard anything negative about the current Batman run by Matt Fraction and Jorge Jimenez and Iāve heard good things about Detective Comics Rebirth by James Tynion IV.
I am highkey not even gonna try to recommend Superman comics since Iāve read so few of them and all recommendation videos Iāve seen repeat the same five comics over and over for him. But All Star Superman by Grant Morrison and Superman: Peace on Earth by Alex Ross and Paul Dini have stood out the most to me.
Also, itās technically not a Batman or Superman comic, but Iām gonna recommend DC: The New Frontier by Darwyn Cook on principle anyways. I love its art and how it characterizes all the Justice Leaguers used and its messaging has aged like a fine wine.
Hi! I finally watched the new Superman movie and absolutely loved it, especially because of the clear love the movie had for the comics it draws from. So, I thought I'd put together a list of Superman comics that the movie reminded me of!
Some of these you should be able to find at your library, especially if your library has a Hoopla or Libby subscription that gives you access to comics. Otherwise, I recommend a good adblocker to go looking for comics online.
If I had to pick 3 . . .
Superman: Birthright
Why: A wonderful and touching origin story for Clark. It's a fantastic introduction to his character, world, and supporting cast, all the way from Krypton to Smallville to Metropolis. Great art and a good grasp on Clark's character. Also, if you liked the Kents in the movie, this is a great comic to get to see more of them!
Primary Themes: immigration, xenophobia, homesickness, hope, figuring out who you are
Superman Smashes The Klan
Why: Based on the 1940s Superman radio show's "Clan of the Fiery Cross" storyline, Superman fights the Klan. Explores Clark's background as an immigrant and how he feels about being different and other. The story itself centers on Roberta Lee, a young Chinese American girl whose family is being targeted by the Klan.
Primary Themes: racism, police brutality, identity issues, internalized racism
Action Comics #792
Why: If I was asked to choose just one Superman comic to be my favorite ever, it would be this one. A self-contained story that highlights Clark's skills as an investigative reporter and his connections to people, and his determination as Superman to save everyone, no matter their importance.
Primary Themes: the importance of life, hope, connection, community
More Superman Comics!
Superman Red and Blue
Why: An anthology of Superman short stories. Covers a wide variety of themes and times in Clark's life. There are some stories I like more than others present in this anthology, but they're all really enjoyable. Special shout-out to a particular Pa Kent story present in it.
Primary Themes: hope, what it means to be a hero
Superman: For All Seasons
Why: A quick 4 issue exploration of Superman as seen by various people in his life - Pa, Lois, Luthor, Lana Lang - in each season, at a pivotal moment in his life
Primary Themes: family, hope, community, connection
Superman: American Alien
Why: A 7 issue comic series following Clark at various points of his childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood as he figures out who he is and where he came from.
Primary Themes: loneliness, figuring out who you are, alienation
Death of Superman + Reign of the Supermen + Return of Superman
Why: Great encapsulation of who Clark is as a character and what makes Superman Superman. Takes place during Clarkās comics death. Also, this is the first time that John Henry Irons (Steel) and Kon-el (Superboy) appear in comics! It's one of the best Superman stories ever written, especially in how it showcases Clark as a character. All of these are available as trades (collection of all issues of the arc) so are easy to find and follow!
Primary Themes: what it means to be a hero, legacy, identity
Trigger Warnings: exploitation, grooming (Kon does not have a good time here), major character death
Trial of Superman
Why: A great exploration of Clark and the impact he has on the world and people around him. Itās great fun, Clark gets kidnapped by aliens blaming him for Kryptonās destruction because of his distant ancestors and escapes.
You can find the reading order for this arc here
Primary Themes: justice, redemption, fairness
Trigger Warnings: police brutality, incarceration
Superman: The Last Son of Krypton
Why: Clark and Lois adopt Chris, Zod's son. This story meshes really well with the general Superman mythos around his adoption by the Kents and parallels it strongly. If you enjoyed Clark's relationship to Ma and Pa in the movie, you'll like how he emulates their parenting with Chris. Also digs into what Clois are like as a couple and as parents. Plus, Chris is a wonderful character.
Primary Themes: adoption, family, loss
Trigger Warnings: abuse (happens to Chris from his bio parents not Clois)
Lois Lane
Lois Lane (2019)
Why: A 12 issue series of Lois uncovering a story involving corruption, conspiracy, and murder. A great examination of what Lois does as a journalist and her belief in the truth.
Primary Themes: speaking truth to power, what is the truth
Superman: The Wedding Album
Why: Clois's comics wedding! Digs into their relationship a lot, especially how Lois feels about societal expectations around her getting married.
Primary Themes: love, joy, communication
But honestly, the best way to get to know Lois as a character and enjoy her is to read Superman comics - she's pretty much the co-protagonist in most stories, so almost any comic you pick up for Clark will have Lois there as well.
Kara Zor-El
Supergirl: Woman Of Tomorrow
Why: Intrigued by the glimpse of Kara in the movie? This is a good comic to go from there! An exploration of Kara, from her kindness to her rage and grief about Krypton's destruction. Kara joins a girl on a mission to avenge her father's murder, taking them on an adventure across the universe on the trail of space mercenary. The art is absolutely stunning.
Primary Themes: grief, justice, revenge, loss, kindness, survivor's guilt
Trigger Warnings: see above
Kara is a character with a long history that I personally have only just begun to read, so I will refer you all to this reading guide for her if you're interested in more Kara after you finish Woman of Tomorrow.
If you're interested in more Superman comics beyond that, I highly recommend Triangle Era Superman - I have enjoyed it greatly. Especially if you wanted to see more of the Daily Planet staff - they really get a chance to shine here. And if you have any questions about other Superman characters, send me an ask and I'll do my best to point you in the right direction!
Interested in other characters from the movie? I'm not as familiar with any of them but some people who are have made some great rec lists of their own:
Guy Gardner/Green Lantern
Michael Holt/Mr. Terrific
Kendra Saunders/Hawkgirl
Rex Mason/Metamorpho
Angela Spica/The Engineer - she doesn't really have any rec lists on Tumblr for her but I asked a friend of mine who is an Authority fan and this is what he said:
so you like the engineer from the movie? cool! some things need to be made clear before you get into comics for her and the authority: wildstorm's the authority is a rated mature comic team as there are graphic depictions of violence and subjects that are triggering. as well, the engineer you see in the movie is both tonally and characterization wise different to the one in comics in every which way.
the engineer basic facts:
ā¢ her name is angela spica
ā¢ she's a professor from princeton university who graduated from there.
ā¢ she is a physicist and technologist.
ā¢ she swapped her blood for nine pints of liquid machinery in 1998 and now can use it to make things.
ā¢ she having met the previous engineer in his real life, was sent all his notes on nanotech from his time as the engineer when he died and started linking it with her work on human-machine fusion. her success with the notes and her work is how she became the engineer.
iāve really been wanting to start reading comics (iāve somehow found myself deeply in batfamily/redhood/batman/superman etc fandoms) and have no clue where/how to start, not to mention everywhere i look, they seem REALLY expensive.
so if you have any tips/recommendations let me know! ā¤ļø
iāve also seen a lot of videos of absolute batman and want to read, but donāt know if thatās a ābad spotā to start or not.
yeah, so highly HIGHLY underestimated the labubu craze thing.
i just thought they look funny. i like funny little things. i wanted my own funny little guy. so, i decided i was gonna try and get one at the drop since they had one tonight.
when i tell you they sold out in less than a minuteā¦ āš
I would probably just go ahead and write your ACOTAR fanfic.
Iāve legit written pieces for characters Iāve not even met yet in canon. š
i was thinking about just doing it anyway (i already have it semi drafted) but i was afraid of getting cyber bullied off the platform for getting stuff wrong since ive seen it happen in other fandoms š
but based on some of the reactions i got it seems far from true here! so, iāll probably end up finishing it up and posting š
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