#I think Travis has a far more darker anger

[whatohitsonfirewelp]

my god connor watching travis carrying the brute of the force when it comes to them being outcasted as the traitor cabin. he’d feel so bitter about it like literally its not their fault their dad is one of the most absentee parents in pjo and they also have to hold every unclaimed or minor god kid like he’d be so upset

I’ve read so many fics and hc’s that Connor is the more bitter and less forgiving brother and I absolutely agree. I definitely think he’d become more protective of his brother, like he’s the one that passes judgment on people and the ONLY way to get into Travis’s good book is by getting into his little brothers good book.

After the war Connor wouldn’t trust anyone except for those he considers family and who that is would have definitely changed throughout the war. Travis on the other hand would, if it weren’t for Connor, forgive far more easily and quickly. Although my person hc for that is Connor once he forgives he forgets Travis on the other hand never forgets.

But yes, Connor would be very bitter and I do think he’d make sure everyone is aware of it. He had to watch his brother destroy himself trying to take care of so many kids without any help. I definitely think Connor would just ignore how much he personally does because all he can focus on his the hurt of his brother and the siblings they have to look after instead of his own.

[lostincalum]

Big Girls Cry- Shawn Mendes

A/N: OKay full offence, i put a lot into this, would appreciate feedback

Word count: 1500 (ISH) 

TW: just angst, idk, maybe alcohol mention 

I’d sent him a message before I got in the car. The entire day has been spent in the studio, and the entire drive home has been tedious. The radio in my car is broken, and leaving me alone with my thoughts is a dangerous thing.  He still hasn’t answered. I sigh as I move towards the kitchen. When I open the fridge and find nothing, yet another sigh escapes me. Life in the fast lane is overrated and I hate it already. Still, it has it’s ups. Like people that like the music I make. And the traveling I get to do. Alas, I don’t get to see a lot of the countries I go to.

I call up the Chinese place not too far from here and order in. In reality I don’t really feel hungry, but my manager will throw a fit if she figures out I’m not doing as good as I’m pretending to. Fake it ‘till you make it, right?

My phone is still empty of notifications. I put on a playlist and start cleaning my apartment. It has been a mess for the last week, but I am determined to make some changes. All of a sudden the doorbell rings. I jump a little, but go from my bathroom to the front door, not minding how I’m dressed at the moment. The delivery boy from the Chinese place is standing in the doorway, looking a little lost in the too fancy hallway. He hands me the food bag and I hand him his money, with plenty of tips.

“Thanks, Travis”, I say with a fake smile I have perfected over the last month.

“No worries Miss”, he looks at me, and for a second I think he recognizes me, that’s why I slam the door shut in his face.

My hands start to shake, and I rush to the kitchen, again. I set the food down on the counter, only to feel my body sliding to the floor. The first thing I feel is my breath moving erratically, then the numbing of my hands and the tears sliding down my face. Hot tears drip down my chin and I swipe there to get them away. But when I look down at my sleeves, I see the grey colour has turned darker, and is tinted with my foundation. I try to control my breathing, and slowly it gets better; I know I just have to wait it out.

It feels better. Not good, but better, when I feel my hands again, when my breathing is slightly better, when the tears have stopped. However, I let my eyes slide over the kitchen and the living room as I get up, big mistake. I am met with photos of us together, meandShawn, not me and Shawn. The anger that boils through me. I haven’t felt anything like it in, well, ever.

A few seconds pass as I stare at the pictures. One is of me and him overlooking a sunset, taken by one of our friends, another of him kissing my cheek, a selfie. They are all there, staring at me. It takes me a split second to decide what to do with them. I take them out of their frames and gather them all up. Then I grab a bunch of matches, which I always preferred over lighters, and go out on the fire escape. I sit down on one of the steps and strike a match. I’m lucky, there is hardly wind tonight, so the flame licks up the wood of the matchstick easily. Then I take the photos in my left hand and bring my other hand closer, watching as the flames caress the amber of Shawn’s eyes.

After I’ve come in again, a little colder, I go to the bathroom. The sight that meets me is not pretty. My mascara is in streaks down my cheeks and there are also trails and smears of concealer and lipstick all over the place. I don’t care if I don’t look pretty right now. I’ve got no one to look pretty for except myself now. I like it.

----

A few weeks later-

I’m standing on the stage trying to look presentable. Soundchecks are going alright and the stage is a comfortable size. The little venue is comfortable even though it is going to be filled to the brim with people later tonight. I walk around the stage familiarizing myself with it. I head over to Mark, the guy that plays piano for me. He’s a sweet guy and he happily agreed to play a cover song with me. Tonight. Even though I’m just the warm up artist, I’m really excited to open the concert.

“Hey, feeling ready for tonight?”

He looks up from his idle key tapping on the piano, when I speak up.

“Do you feel ready?”

I study the ring on his finger; he shares a matching one with his husband. He is a little older, yet I still find it hard to wrap my head around. It’s not that he doesn’t deserve it, but I struggle to believe that love is real. It feels more like getting addicted or dependent on another person. When they leave, well, the results are hardly ever good.

“I don’t think I will ever feel completely ready to perform”, it’s a vague answer and we both know it. But it is also the truth.

Mark just chuckles at me and pats the spot beside him on the bench. I sit down next to him and lean my head on his shoulder, which causes him to put his head upon mine.

“Just know that regardless of what happens tonight, I’ve got your back.”

He says this with the utmost honesty.

“I know, thank you so much Mark.”

---

Mark is the first person on stage and starts of with a short interlude on the piano that is going to lead up to the cover song I’m playing tonight.

“Heyy everyone,” I say as I walk onto the stage.

A loud cheer washes over the crowd as I appear on the stage. This is one of the reasons I haven’t drawn all the way back from performing. The proud feeling you get when you can brighten someone’s day just by singing a few songs.

“So, I was thinking of covering a song for you to start off the evening.”

Different variations of celebrations sounds from the crowd as Marks piano sounds stronger through the speakers.

My voice rings through the venue as I start the first verse of “Big Girls Cry” by Sia. Already in the first verse I can feel the tears from a few weeks back making an appearance. It doesn’t get better with the pre-chorus and by the chorus the first tear slips down my cheek. I didn’t put on a lot of makeup today for this exact reason, but I bet my mascara is in a couple of streaks down my cheeks. I can hear all the girls in the crowd singing along to “I don’t care if I don’t look pretty” .

The second verse goes a little better, since I’m not the most avid partier. Although, I have had a few blackouts when I do drink. The last couple of weeks have been a bit messy, leading up to the start of tour.

I finish the pre-chorus and go to the next chorus, which breaks me all over again. I feel my voice failing me, but then the most amazing thing happens. The crowd continues singing for me. Even though it’s not my song I feel so immensely proud of the people in the crowd, I feel so relieved that these people have my back as well as Mark.

A series of “I wake up”, rings through my chest as I sing along with the crowd, almost as if they are the ones on stage and I’m in the crowd. We finish the song together, except for the last line of the song. I sing that line to a quiet room. Even Mark has stopped playing.

As my last note sounds through the venue, I feel a hand on my back. I turn around and see Mark. I give him a good long hug, with the insane cheering of the crowd behind us. He releases me and I take the mic back up to my mouth.

“Thank you guys so much-”, I yell into the mic

“I don’t think I would have made it through this song without you.”

A massive cheer comes from the crowd along with a few “We love you’s”

The rest of a concert goes by in a blur of me jumping around on stage and singing happier sounding, original songs. I feel so exhilarated by the end that I’ve completely forgotten about heartbreak.

“Who is ready for PVRIS!” I scream and the crowd goes wild. The smile on my face, the feeling in my chest as I walk off stage? I feel invincible. But everything must come to an end.

“Y/N?” an all too familiar voice speaks from behind me. Shawn.

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of Marvel: Week of January 29th, 2020

Best of this Week: Conan the Barbarian #12 - Jason Aaron, Mahmud Asrar, Matthew Wilson and Travis Lanham

“He will tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandaled feet.” - The Nemedian Chronicles.

It’s been quite some time since we’ve done a Conan review and this one took a long time to come out, but it was well worth the wait. After eleven absolutely fantastic issues of sword and sorcery, blood and sex, monsters and men, we’ve reached the end of the “Death of Conan” arc and BOY was it satisfying. Jason Aaron, Mahmud Asrar, Matthew Wilson and Travis Lanham absolutely pay off this amazing story, wrap it up in a nice neat bow for the next creative team and even prepare for the next great story.

Razza and Zazella, the children of the Crimson Witch, have been following Conan since the day he killed their mother, waiting for the perfect time to kill him to resurrect their God, Razazel. Throughout his many years of adventuring, Conan has killed and slaughtered and escaped death more times than any man in the history of the Hyborian Age could ever claim and this has strengthened the potency of his blood for his sacrifice. The tenth issue saw the kids bring Conan back to the Temple of Razazel after near fatal injuries and offering his blood to the Old God.

This issue begins with a short flashback to Conan actually saving the twins years before they meet again. Shortly before bandits try to press gang them onto a ship, Conan swoops in and makes short work of the brigands, gaining the ire of Razza in the process. The Kids are “grateful” for his intervention before walking away, but this is a grave insult to them considering their hatred towards the Cimmerian and the fact that he murdered their mother. This is made even worse by the fact that the kids made a vow to not gloat or talk at the altar when they kill him, but they do just that without confirming his death later on.

When we finally get into the swing of things Asrar, Wilson and Lanham spare no expense when giving readers the action they’ve been waiting for. Asrar shows Conan’s speed and strength as he uses a small boulder to knock Zazella’s sharp, jagged teeth out of her mouth with the rock blurring as he swings it down and Razza looks on in shock. Wilson gives the background and Razazel’s blood roots life through vibrant reds, almost as if to make the reader feel them pumping with evil. Lanham sells Conan’s yell of anger as he strikes with a hearty “RRRRGGH!” word bubble and emphasizing Zazella’s words of fear and disbelief.

After that amazing splash page, Conan rips the daggers out of his chest and faces off against the now monstrous children and the mostly revived Razazel. The fight is dynamic with Conan doing his best to avoid the many mouthed horror that is Razazel. The otherworldly demon could be absolutely horrifying for those with trypophobia as his many mouths look like a cluster of holes, but Wilson gives him a deadlier, darker red to make him amongst the background. Conan, as always, isn’t afraid of the monster and gives him hell throughout the fight.

Conan isn’t just a man, he is an extraordinary man. As stated in a previous review, Conan has fought lesser demons from the depths of hell, beasts of all kinds and monsters that dwarfed him by GREAT margins. He has slain them all and even spat in the face of his own God, Crom at the precipice of death. So Razazel is just another walk in the park for the King of Aquilonia. He thinks nothing of slicing at the fingers of the Old God and even when he’s grabbed and the many mouths are biting and gnawing at him, he just slices at the veins on the walls.

Of course, even Conan still falls prey to the numbers game and with grievous injuries, the Twins begin to overpower him after a good fight. Asrar frames their fight with a fleeting sense of hope as the shot pulls away with each successive panel and more blood is ripped from Conan. Wilson emphasizes this with the backgrounds seemingly getting more red as Conan’s death nears and Lanham excellently places Aaron’s narration of the importance of Conan’s blood out of the way of the action, but still easily readable as you navigate the panels.

And the importance of Conan’s blood cannot be understated as it plays a vital role in the outcome of this battle. One of the better aspects of Aaron’s run thus far is that it has built on Robert E. Howard’s mythos of the character and his amazing feats, but he’s also added something more unexpected in the form of...a legacy, a son: Conn or Conan II. In one splash page, Aaron and Asrar turn the tables as we’re greeted with this child/teenager that’s the spitting image of his father, sword in hand and highlighted amongst his flanking soldiers as they all stare down the monstrous children and their King wounded on the ground.

Now, of course there may be some complaints that Conan having a child ruins his nomadic and loner image, but I argue that this adds a new depth to the character. We’ve seen how fatherhood adds a new layer in characters like Superman and Kratos, improving their stories for the better, so I’m fully on board with it. We’ve already had hundreds of stories of Conan being alone with his throne so exploring a newfound relationship with his boy, teaching him how to be a strong Cimmerian, is something that I didn’t know I wanted until I’d gotten a taste.

Asrar and Wilson continue to sell the horror of things as Conan’s Black Dragon Knights take the fight to the Twins and Razazel. Razza and Zazella make pretty short work of a few of them; Ripping them apart, crushing their heads and even tossing one of them into one of the mouths of Razazel’s forearm in a gruesome display. As they viciously kill and maim Conan’s men, Razza takes pride in his sister and their “soon to come” victory until Conan brutally decapitates him in the middle of his speech. Much like their mother, he survives this and hilarious asks Zazella to throw his head at Conan.

The great Warrior King wastes no time and dispatches Zazella as well, tossing them both into the hole. Conn instructs the soldiers to cut the veins, but Razazel is still hanging on. So Conan does what he does best and leaps into danger. Asrar makes him look like a madman with anger in his eyes, two gaping chest wounds where the kids stabbed him, and his sword in hand about to cut the vein that Razazel is hanging from. Victory is finally at hand when we see Razza, Zazella and Razazel falling into the abyss, defeated by the blood of Conan.

I have to say that there was not a single bad issue in this entire run and this one itself as beyond spectacular. One of the main things that I love about Conan is the simplicity of the character and how anyone can write him, but it takes a REALLY GOOD writer to make you care about him. Throughout the entirety of this series, Jason Aaron held the swinging axe over Conan’s head, dangling it closer and closer with each subsequent issue and victory. At points, I actually thought Aaron might actually do it and end the life of Conan, but deep down we all knew that Conan would emerge victorious.

Mahmud Asrar and Matthew Wilson worked amazingly together on the many issues that they had, capturing the feel of the Hyborian Age with intensity in fights, strong colors and solid inks throughout. I thought Marvel would tone down the violence of the character, but their art and the other artists throughout this book never shied away from the sheer brutality that Conan was capable of. They made sure that this felt like a genuine Conan experience like Dark Horse did during their tenure with the character and much like Marvel did in the 80s. Conan never looked weak and even in defeat he was still a terrifyingly powerful sight to behold.

All in all, I’m excited for more Conan stuff after this. Jim Zub and Roge Antonio take ver the main Conan series after this issue and both of them are very good with writing and art, but Aaron is continuing his story with a King Conan book later this year. Not only that, we’ve got Battle for the Serpent Crown to look forward to, more Savage Avengers and a Dark Agnes miniseries on the way… 2020 is looking like a good year for Conan.