#not getting into this club that easy bucko

[zarla-s]

A patreon request for Oscar from Fortnite! Don't know much about this guy but he sure is a burly tiger man.

[fishnamedsushi]

Leather & Lace (WIP)

“Well, shit.”

Stede Bonnet looked down at the Naval officer lying at his feet, the dark blue of his uniform slowly becoming a lurid purple as the wound in his abdomen bled profusely.

With a grimace, Stede wiggled the sword, but it was a bit more forcefully embedded than he’d anticipated, and the officer let out a pained groan. Stede stammered out little apologies whilst trying even harder to extricate it.

“I’ve never stabbed anyone before, you know. There are rather a few more mechanics involved than I was led to believe.”

All the books made it seem so easy! Brandish here, stagger there – really, it shouldn’t be so bloody complicated to murder someone!

“I promise, sir, I am trying my best to expedite this with -” Twist. “Most”. Twist. “Efficiency.”

“Get…fucked…you…twat!” the officer spat out.

“There’s no need for rudeness,” Stede admonished. The officer gave him one last look of pure disdain, before slumping back and going limp, just as Stede finally managed to withdraw the sword tip from the man’s body. He grimaced, gut churning, at the sight of viscera and…other things…that spilled outward along with it.

“Well,” he said, sitting back on his haunches. He looked down his front and felt a wave of sadness. The gold and olive brocade of his fine jacket was specked with plenty of red at this point, beyond salvageable. His breeches too were flecked with bodily fluids. He looked as though he spent the day in a butcher’s shop, and a very messy one at that.

With a sudden and visceral want he remembered his old closet, the collection of fine garb and linens to suit every mood, every whim. He’d never see the likes of it again, most probably. Of all the things he’d given up, it was this that somehow made his heart twist, even as he scolded himself for his foolishness. A cage is a cage, no matter how fine.

Oh, but what a beautiful cage it was. And not just clothes, no. He had comforts, and culture. Operas and libraries filled with books in a dozen languages, chaise lounges and sunsets to while away the hours between parties and social clubs. And the food! He’d never forget the food, not for as long as he lived. Fresh baked cakes from the finest patisseries, orange glazed biscuits and mouth-watering tarts.

Stede took a deep breath, marshalling himself. 

No matter. What’s done is done, and he was quite committed to his current path. It would be rather difficult to go back at this point anyway, he reasoned, moving his foot away from the slow trickle of blood creeping across the floor. Levering himself up, with slightly shaking fingers he dug inside the officer’s coat pocket until he found it, thick paper folded and only a little wet. He unfolded the page and smoothed his hand over his own likeness, the artist’s rendering casting him as a cross between something angelic and something haughty, all unruly golden curls and a pinched expression that was probably more accurate than he’d care to admit. 

Wanted, it read, Stede Bonnet, Runaway Omega, age 25. Last seen 24 March in the company of one Mary Dougherty, Beta, age 30, Residence 23 Hillborough, Barbados. A handsome reward will be granted upon safe return.

He sighed. He’d tried so hard to get rid of these posters, but he couldn’t very well be everywhere at once, could he? It was quite impressive how far and fast word had spread these past few months, and now he was not only contending with the so-called professional “Omega retrievers” who had been dogging him since he first stepped foot in Nassau, but also enterprising military men who sought to supplement their pensions and fancied themselves bounty hunters. 

Not bloody likely, bucko, Stede thought forcefully. He was never going back, even if it meant pawning off all his remaining possessions, or living in rat infested warehouses and working in scullery, or, or…

He eyed the dead man’s body out of the corner of his eye, grip tightening on the hilt of the man’s sword.

Well. One does what one must.

[mikeisthricedeceased]

You’re My Home

Catfish x OC

Part 1: Winds Change

Word Count: ~1.9k

Part 2  Part 3

A/N: This is an idea I’ve had for a bit, and it’s been a little easier to actually type out than the Mando fic I’ve been working on. It’s probably because I’m planning for this to be some sappy, smutty fun while the Mando fic is a bit more involved.

Edit: replaced some Spanish lines because I’m nowhere near fluent and have no way of knowing how well they actually translate

Summary: Frankie has had a rough year since the whole heist shit show. It’s been one bad thing after another, leaving him all alone in a dingy apartment and steadily slipping back into old habits. He’s more than a little surprised when a pretty stranger approaches him at a bar and coaxes him into having an actual conversation. Nita guides him into a whole new world that might be just what he needs.

(The last sentence of the summary is more of a hint to the series as a whole.)

~*~*~*~

Frankie sat alone at the bar, nursing his third beer of the night. He could’ve been drinking at his place for cheaper, but the empty apartment just served as a reminder of how alone he’d become in the past year. He’d been able to meet up with the guys a few times since the divorce, but they all had lives. Pope was always traveling to see Yovanna. Will and Benny had each other, even with how often they butted heads. He just had himself, and the few days that he got to spend with little Isabella. He and his ex technically had shared custody, but she kept their daughter most days, afraid of what could happen since he clearly still clung to old habits. He couldn’t really fault her for that, as much as it tore him apart.

He was trying. He really was. But, with all that had happened, it was just so easy to find himself sliding back into shit. And going out to drink on his own so he wouldn’t have to sit in an empty apartment where most of the boxes still sat unpacked because it wasn’t home didn’t come close to his worst night, but fuck, was it sad.

He pulled his hat off and dropped it onto the bar top, running his fingers through his too-long hair. He knew he looked just as much the mess that he felt.

~*~*~*~

“Oh, Boss.”

Nita raised an eyebrow, gaze flicking across the table. “Oh, Ryan,” she said, mimicking his sing-song tone.

He smirked, gesturing toward the bar. “You’re staring.”

“And?” she asked.

He scrunched his nose. “Little rough around the edges, don’t you think?”

Tiff nudged him with an elbow. “Careful, bucko, she’s paying for our drinks.”

Nita leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms with a small smile. “You should listen to her, pretty boy. You wanna insult my taste, you can buy your own shots.”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just trying to bring you back to the table.”

She hummed, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Honest,” he insisted, a grin breaking through.

“You couldn’t kiss ass to save your life, could you?”

Tiff snorted at that and Ryan sighed, clasping his hands behind his head.

“I wouldn’t have the job you gave me if I could, Boss,” he said, giving a quick wink.

Nita rolled her eyes. “Switches exist. You can just go ask Jorge or Monique,” she waved a hand toward the small group of their coworkers on the dance floor. “At least they don’t insult their employer.” She jabbed a finger at him “And fair warning, I am wearing a belt that I’m not afraid to use.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

She slid off of her chair, straightening her shirt before grabbing her glass.

“Where are you going?” asked Tiff.

Nita held up what was left of her bushwacker. “Grabbing another one of these,” she said. A quick glance at the figure at the bar and she smiled back at Tiff. “And testing my luck.”

~*~*~*~

She appeared next to him, a hand on the back of the stool beside him.

“Hey, is it okay if I sit here?”

He looked over at her. A soft smile and warm eyes greeted him. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he told her, looking back down at his beer.

“Thanks.”

She set an almost empty glass on the bar and slid onto the seat.

The bartender came over immediately, a broad smile on his face. “Hey, boss. Need another one?” He tapped near her glass.

She nodded and jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “And I think los idiotas in the back need another round, if you don’t mind.”

He pointed to her and grinned. “Claro.”

“Gracias, señor.”

Frankie glanced over at the woman beside him as she rested her elbows on the bar and looked up at the lone tv on the wall.

Her eyes flicked to him and he had the decency to feel embarrassed about being caught, face warming.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat a bit, offering a polite, if awkward, smile.

“Hi,” she said softly, gaze now fixed on him.

He sat up a little and met her eyes. “Hey.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “I’m sorry if this is too forward, but I really just came over here to talk to you,” she told him, lips pulling into a small smile.

His brows shot up. “Oh.”

The bartender breezed past, smoothly placing a new bushwacker in front of Nita before lifting a tray laden with tequila shots and small bowls of lime wedges.

“Just ‘oh’?” she asked, eyes alive with amusement.

Frankie found himself smiling back at her, even as he looked down sheepishly. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting that.”

She shrugged, stirring the chocolate syrup in her drink around. “I do like being unpredictable sometimes. Keeps things fun.”

He turned toward her a little more. “Does it? Probably makes planning a little hard.”

She wagged a finger. “That’s why I said sometimes. I have responsibilities that require forethought on occasion.”

“Like owning a bar?” he asked, gesturing around them.

She laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t, actually. This just happens to be one of my go-to places to bring out-of-towners and colleagues who want to get tipsy on my dime. Lorenzo there has seen me drag a few of my friends outside with the help of a bouncer,” she said, grinning at the bartender.

“¿Los idiotas?” Frankie asked, nodding to the group in the back.

Nita smiled into her drink. “A few of them, yeah.” She took a sip and set the glass down, turning in her seat a bit to look at them. “I’ll probably be doing that again tonight.”

“Someone has to make sure everyone gets home alright,” he reasoned.

She nodded in agreement, focusing back on him. “It’s honest work.”

He almost wanted her to stop looking at him like that. So warm, so inviting. It didn’t feel like the sort of thing that should be happening to him, especially with how life had been treating him recently. He couldn’t believe that he was actually managing to hold a conversation either. He’d been communicating almost exclusively through grunts and monosyllabic words for the past few months.

But, sitting there with her eyes on him, it just made the words a little easier.

“So, what do you do, if you don’t own a bar?” he asked before taking a sip of his beer.

She shifted, eyes sliding to her friends in the back again. “I own a few clubs. One of them is local, that’s where all of them work. There are a few more spread out across the States. I also have a business with an old friend of mine in New York.”

He nodded, eyes dancing over her face as she spoke. “A pretty successful business woman, then?”

She smiled. “Something like that. Being your own boss has its pros and cons.” She lightly bumped his arm with the back of her hand. “What about you?”

It felt like his chest was going to burst with that small touch. It finally clicked that this woman was really, honest to God flirting with him, and he might’ve been losing his mind about it.

“I’m a pilot. Been working some odd jobs recently, though, waiting for my recertification to go through.” He tried not to wince as he thought about it. “Some old buddies of mine have an MMA gig that I help out with sometimes. Adds a little bit of excitement to my weeknights.”

“Sounds like it would,” she said, a hint of a laugh in her voice. “They have some amateur kickboxing tournaments at the gym my business partner’s husband works at. Always a fun time.” She swirled the straw in her drink absently. “Do you fly commercially?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. Mostly private stuff. Helicopter tours or cargo transport.” 

“Ah, a chopper guy,” she said, pressing her lips together to hide a grin as she nodded.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “What? Do I seem like the kind of guy who wears a suit everyday?”

She bit the inside of her cheek lightly and ran a finger through the condensation on her glass. “You just seem like the kind of guy who’d look really good in one,” she said, tilting her head at him.

He blinked at her, mind going a little blank. He looked down, grinning like an idiot as he picked at the label on his beer. “I don’t— I don’t know about that.”

She waved a hand, her broad smile making his face hot. “Oh, you’d probably look great in all kinds of stuff. Gotta love a uniform.” She studied him as she lifted her drink. “You’d make a good cowboy, too.”

He let out a surprised laugh, a little louder than he’d meant to. “A cowboy?”

She sipped her drink, humming affirmatively, and gestured at his head as she narrowed her eyes. “I’m picturing the hat. It works for you.”

They just laughed for a moment, gazing at each other. At some point in the conversation, they’d both fully turned, each of them resting a single elbow on the bar as they faced one another.

Frankie sighed, lips still turned up in a smirk. “I’ll try to keep that in mind. In the meantime,” he grabbed his old ball cap off the bar and slipped it on, “I think I’ll stick with this.”

“That’s a good look, too,” she said, smiling softly with her chin in her palm.

“You think so?”

“It’s definitely working for me.”

He bit his lip. “Y’know, I feel like an ass, sitting here and getting compliments from a beautiful woman without coming up with a way to return them that won’t embarrass the shit out of me.”

She dropped the hand she’d been leaning on, letting the tips of her fingers brush where his elbow rested on the bar. “I think that one was pretty good.”

It took everything in him not to look down at her hand. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A hand appeared at her shoulder and they both turned to face the newcomer.

Tiff looked between them apologetically. “Sorry,” she said before directing a frown at Nita. “Matt’s had about six too many shots and he’s gonna break his neck trying to backflip off the stage.”

Nita gave a long-suffering sigh, pinching the space between her brows. “And that means that Ryan is two shots behind him and everyone needs to be taken home before more chaos starts.” She shook her head and set her glass back on the bar, gaze lingering on the clear condensation ring it had left on her jeans. “I’ll be back there in a second.”

Tiff scurried off and Nita met Frankie’s eyes again.

She offered a half-hearted shrug. “Idiotas.”

He chuckled softly, hoping that she couldn’t tell just how disappointed he was to see her go.

Her gaze shifted to something over his shoulder. “Lorenzo! Do you have a pen?” she called, making a writing gesture in the air.

Frankie could only watch as she thanked the bartender for the pen and pulled her wallet out of her back pocket.

“All I have are business cards,” she told him, biting her lip sheepishly. She slipped one out of her wallet and started writing across the back. Then, she was handing it to him. “This is my cell number. And I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He took the card in a daze. “It’s Frankie,” he said softly.

“Nita,” she said, gesturing to herself with one hand as she returned her wallet with the other. “Maybe we can do this again sometime, Frankie. Sin los idiotas.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

She offered him one last breathtaking smile. “Have a good night.”

“Night. And good luck with the carpool,” he said as she started walking away.

He heard her laugh.

He turned to face the bar again, a smile plastered across his face.

A few moments later, he saw some of her group walk out the door. A few stumbled. The woman who had brought an end to their conversation stopped to talk to the bartender before moving to hold the door open. Then, Nita was half-carrying, half-dragging a chattering man out of the bar, a bouncer following close behind.

Frankie chuckled to himself, shaking his head. It was probably time for him to head out, too. The beer in his hand was beyond lukewarm and it wasn’t going to help him feel any better than he already did.

He waved down the bartender as he reached for his own wallet, carefully tucking Nita’s business card away before thumbing through his cash.

“How much?” he asked.

Lorenzo shook his head, holding up a hand. “You’re covered.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Boss took care of it,” said the bartender, nodding to the door and offering him a shrug.

“Oh.” Frankie let that process as he slowly put his wallet away. “Gracias, señor.”

He felt a little light-headed as he made his way out of the bar. So much had happened so quickly. He’d started the night determined to wallow in self pity, only to end it with a warm feeling in his chest and the promise of a date in the near future.

~*~*~*~

If anyone wants to be tagged, send me a message and I’ll add you!

Taglist: @zeldasayer @tarrevizslas

~ Mike

[manifestoonmoralmanlove]

Soulless Riffing: Brainless Wrap-up

I got a supernatural action/romance book series as a gift that’s just riddled with stuff that I hate….and as a steampunk Victorian London action romance story filled with werewolves and vampires…it’s yeah gonna be easy to poke fun at.

I just want to say, it’s totally cool if you like this story or ones like it!  It’s certainly a better caliber than a lot of what I make fun of…however…I can’t help but want to make fun of it.

Over here for the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7+8, 9, 10+11, 12, 13, 14, and Epilogue.

So here are my final thoughts on the book Soulless for those interested in such things:

It’s not good quality but hell, you’re probably not reading magical woman in Victorian times bangs hot werewolf while hitting zombies with an umbrella cause you want really deep themes and tight prose.

Despite my grumblings on Alexia’s Italian prosecution complex and supernaturals as an oppressed race, it’s not really that problematic.  I think it’s a pinch ignorant and unintentionally glib, but dang I’ve seen way worse.

I think the book’s greatest strength and weakness are kinda one in the same, it just depends on your perspective. 

That would be the abiding and consistent frivolousness of it all.  I personally feel as if it hurts the story cause it feels as if there’s no stakes and that the conflict doesn’t matter.  But you can see the appeal.  Even when shit is really going down, it’s not properly stressful or scary.  Humor is never far away, it’s just straight up fluff!

The plot contradicts itself for no apparent reason, it has giant holes, and what sense it does make is highly dependent on every single character (even ones meant to be smart) not having enough brain function to make sentences by themselves.

This is more subjective but the relationship at the center wasn’t great if you ask me. The conflict is all childish, with no suspense that it’ll be a more than chapter long hindrance. The main differences in their personalities are basically on gendered lines, with a little werewolf vs. human culture for color.  Alexia has lower self-esteem, gets sad sometimes, is more likely to be polite, and is more reluctant about a sexual relationship.  Besides that they’re incredibly similar to one another. They’re antagonistic, strong-willed, self-righteous, frivolous, stupid, short-sighted, not self-aware, and have similar politics. They’re so similar when they have an argument they just circle the drain.  Nobody adds anything or learns because they’re just vomiting the same unprocessed, inept perspective at one another.  You’ll never be short on conflict, but it’s all non-arguments about petty bullshit that don’t even manage to be funny.  

For something that’s meant to be fun and frivolous there’s a surprising lack of action and sex. The story wants to both be kinda that virginal ravishment and female empowered libidos at the same time and it just...doesn’t mesh. I honestly feel they should have leaned more on having a horny protag, and just played up feigning confidence, clumsiness, with a bit of uncertainty.  Instead Alexia both wants to both spend a week locked in a cabin fucking this man, but also IS THIS AROUSAL????? WHAT DOES IT MEAN!?!?!?!?!  There is 1 page of a sex scene, the make out scenes were frankly underwhelming and froze the pacing, and Alexia only has 1 proper fight in it all and that’s over by what page 5? LAME!

I feel as if she should’ve leaned more into the cheesy ridiculousness of it all.  Like her umbrella is actually a living familiar (her father’s) who’s perhaps at first begrudgingly working with Alexia.  The umbrella is sarcastic and dramatic but ends up being deeply loyal to Alexia. Named Parry or Saul for parasol?

Her evil family, or maybe a higher up in government is actually connected to the genocide club? DUN DUN DUN!

Queen Victoria seems like a delicate older woman, but in a climactic battle it turns out she can take care of herself and says some dumb nonsensical one liner like, “JUST LIE BACK AND THINK OF ENGLAND!” when she blunderbuss’ the antagonist out a grand window in her castle.

Well…to be fair… I haven’t read the whole series so who knows if that last one happens.

But let me give you a proper Too long; Didn’t read:

On the good side:

It’s easy to read frivolous fun that indulges in the Victorian aesthetic with a supernatural flavor. The opening of the story, I still contend is good. There is genuine friendship tenderness in this story that is lovely.  It doesn’t take itself too seriously, and sprinkles humor throughout.   The lead has sexual agency, women’s libidos are celebrated, and there’s an implication that sex outside of marriage is fine.  It does follow a sensible (if could be improved) pattern of intrigue, romantic development, climax, and conclusion. It’s also written in a particular voice that many would probably enjoy.  The voice is horny, juvenile, and superior both in the respect that Alexia is NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS but also a snotty kinda British superior attitude for being witty enough that your backhanded compliment seemed polite enough that it wasn’t recognized for what it really was.

…Okay so maybe that last line was in itself a backhanded compliment.  I found the voice irritating, but I can understand why it’s attractive to so many young women.  What does any reasonable person want from a young adult novel aimed at young women?

For it to be sexy, silly, that the protagonist is better than the average person and by extension YOU ARE for enjoying her adventures.  And hey listen, young women are shit on ALL THE TIME for all sorts of bullshit.  Women should have these outlets to just briefly, BRIEFLY feel as if they’re smart, powerful, and sexy!  I give a hearty fuck yeah to that!

On the bad side:

There is a caveat I have with what I just said above. Some of the superior tone of Soulless (and it’s not exclusive to this title I assure you) is that some of the superior tone comes down to misogyny, classism, and even a little of what’s appropriate for a GOOD MAN (beyond yanno don’t be shitty.)  I cannot abide by that.

The story’s frivolousness when it comes to serious topics is a disservice.  

It could have easily been more fun.

The story could have also been EASILY molded into a plot that made more sense.

The story has no idea how to be subtle…which helps it feel as if it’s a YA novel.  This novel books itself as adult, but it’s really really, really, really, REALLY a young adult book and it should have been labeled/marketed/etc as such.  I came in expecting a fun saucy novel, but left feeling condensed to by a 16 year old. Like honestly, I feel as if she wrote a young adult novel, her editor wanted a sex scene at the end, so she quick pushed out a page of a tame one, and because of that they felt weird labeling it YA.

But what the hell do I know?

If you want turn your brain off fun and like supernatural Victorian hooey? Go for it!

If you don’t like those things? Be a butthead like me and hate read things for a masochistic thrill.

Did you know there’s a sequel? THIS BAD BOY IS A SERIES AND YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO SUFFER THROUGH SCROLLING PAST MY RIFFS ON THE SEQUEL TOO SOON BUCKO! WOOHOO!

[fireandseaweed]

One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor || Jason and Percy

Jason and Percy get shit faced after the news about the Bill breaks.

Percy had been drinking in the ‘Spoils of War’ for several years now. It was basically a club for demigods that had killed enough monsters to earn their entry into the bar. Both Percy and Jason had earned positions on the wall of fame. The skull of the Trojan Sea Monster that Jason had killed was still mounted on the wall behind the bar, as he pushed open the door, Percy stepped towards the bar and held up two fingers. “Two tequilas senora,” the barmaid gave the two regulars a look that said she didn’t want to know why they were drinking before noon, before filling up two slightly greasy shot glasses with the golden liquor and placing a lime wedge on top. “Salt is over there,” she grunted nodding towards a cupboard behind them. Turning to Jason, Percy lifted up his shot. “To your good health.”

The minute Percy turned the corner to the entrance of Spoils of War, Jason breathed a sigh of relief. They’d both long since earned membership to the elite bar; and due to the incredibly strict membership policy they were unlikely to be disturbed. He waved to the familiar bartender as she filled their shot glasses, “Might as well leave the bottle,” he muttered, sliding a handful of golden coins across the bar towards her, “we’re going to need it.” He grabbed the salt and poured a small amount on his hand before clinking his shot glass against Percy’s, “and to yours likewise.” Before downing the burning liquid and taking a bite of the lime. “Gods I love this place.” He looked at their individual portraits in the wall of fame, his looking younger and more carefree, “Seems like a lifetime ago we got on that wall.”

Percy stared at his own portrait for a second, he couldn’t help but wonder if the gore splattered but smiling warrior up there was the same one as the demigod sat at the sticky bar. Clinking his glass against Jason’s, he downed his shot and licked the salt before biting down on the lime. “Pool?” he asked before sanding and making his way over to the faded green felt table, racking up the balls he poured he and Jason another drink and looked at it contemplatively. “I thought that this would be the one place where they didn’t care if you are Greek or Roman,” all they’d care about was how many monsters you’d brought trophies in for. Aside from Annabeth and Reyna, Percy didn’t know anyone who came close to his or Jason’s trophy count. Swallowing the shot, he throw his friend a pool cue. “Your break hermano.”

As Jason sauntered over to the pool table he looked at the wall one last time; the glowing numbers under his and Percy’s names ever so close, even if he was winning slightly. “All that matters is the ichor on your weapon.” He knocked shoulders with Percy he watched his friend rack up the balls. “Remember before life got crazy and we used to come here all the time.” He caught the pool cue easily and lined up his shot, listening as the sharp crack of the balls cut through the electronic music playing in the empty dim bar. He watched carefully as a solid ball fell in the pocket. “You’re stripes then, dude.” He took a swig from the bottle and winced, “Life used to be so fucking easy. This is a mess.”

Watching as Jason effortlessly caught the pool cue, Percy couldn’t help the lopsided smirk that crossed his lips. “I remember spending whole summer days hunting and then dragging our spoils back before drinking until the sun came up,” as he heard the crack of the balls smacking against one another, Percy took up his pool cue and lined up his own shot, the white ball sailed across the well worn felt and crashed into a striped ball which bounced off the corner and settled precariously close to the pocket. Taking the bottle from Jason, Percy swallowed another mouthful and winced on queue as the liquor burned the back of his throat. “Well, I’ve got to say that things were easier when the only thing we had to worry about was killing the biggest and baddest monster out there. It is weird that at under 30 we are already thinking about the ‘glory’ days.”

Jason laughed uproariously at the memories, “21 and singing war songs as we dragged dragon corpses through the streets then getting shitty drunk off cheap beer until sunrise. Gods we had fun.” He laughed again and took his shot, cursing as the ball he was trying to sink missed the pocket entirely. “We did have some glory days. But I think we’ve still got some glory left in us. At the very least we’ve got some shining days ahead where we crush this anti-Greek sentiment.” He wandered up to the bar and ordered a basket of peanuts for them to eat. “Gods I missed this, Percy. I missed us and Annabeth drinking and having no cares in the world. Being young and carefree before political responsibility and riots and all this shit.” He took another swig and cracked a peanut, chowing down and sighing. “All of this is just……… fuck.”

As Jason wandered about the table, Percy held uncharacteristically still. He evaluated the table, chose his shot and was rewarded with a ball sinking into the pocket. Finally. “I remember you turning up to battle without a t shirt on after one of those nights of drinking,” he smirked good naturedly as he took a peanut and chewed on it thoughtfully, “I remember Annabeth judo slamming a former centurion when he tried to hard to one up her…” this bar held so many good memories for them. “Wanna know what makes it all worse?” He said with a flat laugh, fishing in his pocket he pulled out the ring he was going to give Annabeth on the steps of the Open Hearth, but they’d been interrupted before he could. “I was going to ask her to marry me and all this shit happened.” It was hard not to feel miserable after that.

Watching as Percy sank his shot perfectly, Jason rewarded him by flipping him off across the table. “And was rewarded for my hangover and missing shirt by a awful scar across my back.” His hand rubbed across it under his shirt and he smiled at the memory. So much of their late teenage years had been spent here; demigod life tended to ignore drinking ages. He spun his cue idly before lining up his shot and sinking a bright blue ball. He sighed deeply as Percy brought the ring out of his pocket, “We’ll make this right, man. You’ll get your perfect proposal and we’ll make, somehow, the world see that demigods are demigods; regardless of patrimony.” He bent to look more closely at the ring, smiling wanly, “It looks beautiful, man. You choose well.” He sighed slowly, weighing some options in his head “Full disclosure… I slept with one of the centurions that helped with the raid before it happened. I haven’t talked to him since…. but it did happen.”

Sighing gently at the middle finger that Percy received from his friend, he bowed low in reply before wincing as Jason retaliated by pocketing another ball. “Well I am pretty sure you inspired several demigods that day, if nothing else.” He pauses to chew on a peanut before continuing.“I guess it wasn’t the right time and when the right time eventually does come along then I will do it, I can imagine that lady Aphrodite is having a field day with all of this, it must be such a juicy love story for her.” He sighed gently at the thought and took another shot before taking the bottle and swigging at it until everything felt that bit more fuzzy. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he shrugged. “Which one?” He asked. “Don’t worry, I don’t care, you can sleep with whoever you want as long as they treat you right. Besides orders are orders, the centurions aren’t at fault really. I think it is more the senate and the powers behind the senate that are the problem.”

The pool game was nice. It smacked of tradition and Jason found himself regretting not wearing the purple letterman’s jacket that Percy had gotten him when they’d become full members of the bar. The number in its back changed to reflect his kill count, and it was one of the most comfortable things he’d ever worn. “everyone always loves a shirtless demigod screaming and summoning great gouts of lightning.” He shook his head, a brittle laugh escaping from his lips, “She probably is. I never know if she loves the love or the angst more. Knowing her it’s probably both at once.” He sauntered past and snatched the bottle from Percy’s hand, already comfortably tipsy but determined to be even more so. “Callum. I was a little drunk. We were texting. One thing led to another… you know how it goes.” He shook his head bitterly as he took another shot, “Centurions should know when orders given are not orders to be followed. Though the Senate is equally at fault.”

Percy hadn’t changed since he’d been taken in after the raid, but he too missed his own jacket. A mixture of a greeny-blue and black, looking at it always reminded him of the ocean floor. “Hey, even I was a bit turned on by that display, the monsters probably died because they were so distracted by dem abs,” he winked sloppily and smirked lopsidedly once more before slumping onto a stool for a moment. “Do you want a beer?” he asked before ordering Jason one anyway. “Both sounds right when it comes to her Greek form, Venus is an entirely different matter, she is much more difficult to read.” Shrugging Percy couldn’t find it in him to be mad about it. “Shit happens,” he grunted as the barmaid handed him a pint of beer that he took a long slurp from, “I don’t blame you, you didn’t know he was a demigod racist and besides he is pretty enough, I can understand why you picked him.”

Jason laughed uproariously and gestured to his abs with the tequila bottle “Listen, Jackson, you had your chance at these abs yeeeeeears ago and you threw it away for a relationship based on mutual love, respect, and trust so you can just suffer the loss, bucko.” He took the beer that Percy offered him, holding the tequila in one hand and the beer in the other, shrugging and taking alternating sips, “yeah. Shit happens. I was drunk and there were some dick pics and yeah. But now that I know he’s a demigod racist I feel pretty shitty about it. In drunk me’s defense…. it’s been awhile.” He set the tequila down and focused on the beer; this was a marathon not a sprint. “Next time we do talk though…. someone might get a bolt of lightning to the face.”

Shaking his head, Percy pushed Jason gently before snatching the bottle of tequila and chugging a mouthful. Washing it down with a swig of beer he got off the stool to take his shot. “If you had a better six pack then Annabeth then I’d have been all over you, but it is about quality and not just quantity and Annabeth has some real definition.” He took his shot with the pool cue and then took a literal shot of tequila. Smirking fuzzily, he placed an arm round his friend and shook his head. “You didn’t know he was a dick. I mean you did, but you get what I mean. Stop acting like you’re not allowed to make mistakes and make sure you zap him real good next time he tries to booty call you. Callum and I do not get along well. Despite my many efforts.”

“My six pack looks like it was literally sculpted by the goddamn gods. Don’t you stand there and tell me that it’s not the most amazing set of abs in the world.” Jason was drunk enough to talk about himself in such a grandiose manner; were he sober he’d never talk himself up like that. He took another swig of the tequila, setting the now empty bottle down on the bar. “Okay maybe we have a few beers and see where we are before I buy another one of those.” He shrugged broadly and took his shot, watching the balls scatter across the worn felt. “My mistakes tend to be a little more visible; which is why I’ve been so reticent to have any sort of hookup. If it blows up everyone knows.” He lounged lazily on his stool and smiled broad and loose at Percy, “But hey.. I had fun. Next time I see him we’ll have words and maybe some blows, but that’s next time and not something to worry about now that I’m spending time with you.”

“It is not the most amazing set of abs I’ve ever seen, those belong to Reyna’s eight pack or possibly Apollo when he is in his super saiyan form.” Percy shrugged gently, he was drunk enough to be brutally honest with his friend when he might have once softened the blow. Scooping up his drink, he gulped down a couple more mouthfuls before shrugging and smiling gently. He was drunk enough to have all but forgotten about the previous night’s events, at least for the moment. Leaning down, Percy lined up his own shot and took it, shooting the ball into the pocket and watching it rattle into the table. “Fuck them,” he replied with a shrug and a shake of his head, “we don’t need to play the game by their rules, we just get to live our life and you know what, you might’ve slept with someone who turned out to be an asshole, but that makes you no different from any other person who would be our age.”

“You cannot possibly compare my abs to my brother’s. He’s literally a god.” Jason shook his head as Percy sank another shot. Looking around the rough and humble interior of the bar he couldn’t help but smile; this place had seen them grow from boys into men, carrying bloody trophies through the door with them as they’d grown. They’d spent more than their fair share of nights sleeping in the bunks upstairs and Jason was glad that Percy had chosen this as the place to drink away their sorrows. Wandering away from the table just long enough to select a song on the jukebox in the corner, Jason returned as the bass started thumping. “True. We can put this firmly in the column of “Jason making normal adult idiot choices.”” He snickered softly and carefully lined up his shot; looking at all the angles before launching the cue ball hard enough to sink two balls. “Tell me something inconsequential and banal about your life these days. I’m tired of dealing with a whole city. I just wanna hear about you.”

“You didn’t preface your comment by stating that they had to be mortal abs, you just said the most amazing abs in the world…” Percy giggled gently at the topic and took another long gulp of something to drink. He had long ago stopped caring what he was drinking, as long as it was alcoholic he was happy. Alcohol was currently the only thing that was making him feel any better and so he kept going, knowing that with every mouthful his hangover tomorrow was going to be a hundred times worse. “Well, at least you’re getting to make normal adult idiot decisions,” Percy said in reply before emitting a loud laugh. Smiling absent mindedly, Percy sunk another shot into a pocket, apparently getting better with every drink that he took. “I got that new Assassins Creed game,” Percy replied with a laugh, “it is honestly something that is well made, and getting to explore the Pyramids is amazing, you should come round and play it sometime….”

“Well I would think that’d be self-evident. Now you have to tell me how pretty I am.” Spinning towards the bar Jason threw his brightest smile on and ordered them another bottle of booze before bringing it back to the pool table. He knew he’d wake up on his couch with the worst headache known to mankind but tonight was worth it; to just forget with his best friend and act like they used to. “I’ll have to come over. In the brief moments of gaming I can manage it’s been all Destiny 2 all the time. Been listening to a bunch of podcasts while I do it. Nice to just zone out, you know? Oh!!” He watched Percy sink his shot, winning the game, and flipped him the double bird before continuing to talk, “Finished a couple short stories. I’d love to have you read them before I send them off to your mom.”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Percy laughed, “Don’t worry, you are the prettiest boy in this whole bar and if I weren’t promised to another I would insist on you taking me in your arms and ravaging my supple virgin body.” Taking a long drink, Percy did his best to keep himself composed, which promptly failed and he found himself laughing, his drink spraying across the floor as he failed to keep a straight face. Percy placed his pool cue back on the table and shrugged, “What can I say, I obviously just seem to have a very natural talent for pool, but I have heard all good things about the new Destiny game, you’ll have to let me borrow it until I have the time to get it for myself.” Placing his beer glass on the bar, Percy nodded. “You know that I would always love to read them before you send them off, they’re always rivetingly good. I know Mom’s going to love them.”

“Listen, I have slept in enough hotel rooms next to you and Annabeth to know that virgin thing is a goddamn lie.” He flinched slightly as the spray from Percy’s drink hit him “Party foul!!! Hella party foul, dude.” Jason sashayed drunkenly over to the dartboard and beckoned to Percy, “We’ll have to play something else then. That I can win at.” He took his first set of throws, squinting one eye as he aimed, “Its fun man. It’s great time killer you don’t have to think about while you’re playing. You just zone and shoot. Which is always good fun.” Stepping back he wrote this round’s score on the chalkboard and let Percy have his turn. “You always flatter me, but this round of them is pretty good. There’s one I’m going to submit to a contest after your mom edits it for me.” He took another drink of burningly harsh liquor and smiled, “We should do this more often.”

Laughing, Percy shrugged gently. “What can I say,” he slurred, “Annabeth is a bit of a screamer, or is that me…” he giggled to himself, deliriously giddy from the alcohol and the stress and the amounts of pressure that they were under. Rolling his eyes, he sloppily stumbled over to the dartboard and laughed. “You’re definitely going to win this if my dart throwing abilities are anything like my archery.” Picking up a dart he tossed it at the wall, and completely missed the board. “Well, I think you’ve got this one, but hey, that was fun, I’ll try my best and see what I can do.” Grunting he swallowed a mouthful of beer and shrugged. “I don’t flatter you, I tell you the truth, if you write something shitty then I will tell you that it is shitty, but I’m sure you’ve got this. Two authors working on a piece, that is guaranteed to win it.” He aimed again and threw his dart, which managed to hit the board this time, even though it didn’t score, his final dart did actually score, but only a triple one, which Percy didn’t really understand how it worked, but apparently that was the rules.

Jason laughed and threw a hand over his now crimson face, “It’s you. It’s absolutely you. And I really wish I didn’t know that about you but I do.” Percy’s absolutely abysmal first set of dart throws made Jason fairly confident he could win as he wobbled slowly in place, the alcohol hitting him with the force of a cyclops swing. He turned back to the bar and slid a couple more golden coins across the counter. “We’re gonna need two bunks upstairs tonight. Pretty pretty pretty please.” She merely blew him a kiss and took the money as he stumbled back to the game in progress. “I gotta get your mom a dope ass Christmas present to make up for all the shit I ask her to edit. And you and Annabeth I gotta get you something awesome.”

Nodding gently, Percy shrugged and smiled. “Guilty,” he finally giggled and before shaking his head somewhat embarrassed, though he knew that Jason didn’t care. “Now you can say that there is not a single thing that you don’t know about me,” he winked gently and smirked. It had been a long time since he had been in a bad enough state to need to stay in one of the rooms upstairs. “Gods, I’m already so drunk. When did I become such a lightweight? There used to be a time when I could drink all day and still manage to get home in the evening, now I can’t do either.” He chuckled gently and shrugged. “I think we’re spending Christmas in New Rome this year, don’t really want to leave in case they won’t let us come back…” he sighed gently and shook his head, “but we’re going to get you something very good, I don’t know yet, Annabeth almost certainly does.”

At Percy’s giggle, Jason couldn’t help but let out a guffaw. “Gods I really do know everything about you, don’t I?” He shook his head, blonde hair falling out of his normally neat top-knot as he abandoned all pretense of looking decent and let it down. “We got old, dude. We’re not 18 year olds who can drag Chimera fangs in here and drink til sunrise and then go off to class. Now we’re old men who can drink til 1 and then crash in the bunks upstairs praying to Bacchus that we don’t have the worst hangover ever visited upon a demigod.” He balanced a dart on the tip of his finger, watching it wobble in the bar’s dim lighting, “I’m sorry, man. I know Sally would love to have you at home with her and Gabby. But I understand your reasoning. Terrible, but not a bad idea given the current political climate.” Smiling he reached over and ruffled Percy’s hair, “You don’t gotta get me shit, Briney. You keep putting up with me and that’s present enough.”

Percy snorted with laughter and shrugged gently at Jason’s giggle. Taking a few breaths in between his snorts of laughter, he shrugged and shook his head gently. “That is what happens after seven years of spending weeks together,” sighing gently he shrugged. “We got very old,” he snorted, “I’m not the warrior or drinker that I once was….” Percy sighed and looked at the nemean lion pelt pinned to the wall that he knew he had brought in almost four years ago now. “I am going to be in a state tomorrow, you’ll have to carry me back to my apartment, tell Annabeth that I love her and I’ll be fine…” he laughed again and sipped at his beer. He knew that he was only going to make things worse. “It isn’t your fault,” he replied with a shake of his head, “you are simply doing as much as you can and that is more than anyone can ask, I’m doing the same thing.” He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t talk shit sparky,” he replied glibly before shaking his head, “we are getting you something and that is the end of it.”

“We’re not a lot of what we once were. But I like to think we aged well. We both got excellently attractive too so I guess we really can’t complain too much.” Clasping his hand to Percy’s shoulder Jason laughed brightly, “When we wake up in the morning I’ll give you a piggyback ride back to your apartment for sure. Just like old times.” He chugged some more of the liquor and started to wander towards the stairs up to the bunks he’d paid for for them. “I talk shit as much as I want, you two give me enough. I don’t need a christmas present. But if you wanted to get me something…… I’ve got some notebooks on my Amazon wishlist I’d kill for.”

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https://quoteswithpicture.com/why-so-many-millennials-are-having-a-quarter-life-crisis-right-now/

Why So Many Millennials Are Having a Quarter-Life Crisis Right Now

Wondering why so many millennials are going through a quarter-life crisis? According to research, more than half of millennials are experiencing this period of self doubt and insecurity that is causing them to question their career paths, relationships and life choices.

Just like the midlife crisis, the quarter life crisis can be devastating. Read on for some insights on why a majority of millennials are experiencing this crisis and discover what to do about it.

Why many millennials are having a quarter life crisis 

1.) Adulting Woes

Life can be tough and confusing for us millennials.

We spend our younger years wishing to taste the sweet, sweet freedom that comes from being able to be the boss of our life and make our own decisions:

“Can’t WAIT until I’m older so mom and dad can’t boss me around all over the place and make me do dumb chores!”

And then we spend our older years, well, grumbling about how we wish we had the delicious freedom that goes along with being young:

“Did you see that adorable little girl dancing around like no one’s watching? I wish I was that carefree and didn’t have to worry about making rent this month and having to pay for all those dang car repairs!”

We arrive into adulthood like it’s some sort of celebratory procession (now I can do whateva the “F” I want in my own studio apartment, woo hoo!) and shortly thereafter we get blindsided up the wazoo by all the bills, loan debt, and various assorted mundane adulting activities that come along with it.

Suddenly, our life centers around a mundane 9-5 job, some much-needed coffee, a happy hour here and there, some social media updates and uploads, all tightly mixed in with a trip to the grocery store every so often. (And WHY do I always seem to pick the checkout line that goes the slowest? Sigh.)

Your brain is still functioning, but your soul is in total zombie mode.

We can’t WAIT for the weekend. But it never comes soon enough.

2.) Discovering Our Missing Piece

Don’t get me wrong, we have SO much to be thankful for these days. This isn’t the great depression, emojis are still alive and well, and somehow we survived 2012.

Essentially, I’d say that makes us Pretty Big Deals (PBDs).

But so why do we PBDs feel like something’s missing? Why do we feel so dead inside? Why do we continue to look up at the sky and scream, Is this all there is to life? (Interestingly, this tends to happen most often on Sunday evenings.)

Why do we feel like we’re walking around aimlessly, zombified, looking for answers to a question we haven’t even begun to formulate?

And why do we keep hitting the snooze button on the alarm of life, just as we get a glimpse of something beautiful that may connect us with more meaning or joy?

“Travel abroad? Yeah, I’d love to but I have no money to spare right now.”

“Learn to play the guitar? Psssahhhh, as if I have the time for that.”

“Go to that awesome concert with you? Nah, man. I have to stay home and finish a couple work projects. Yeah, I’m a loser I know.”

Not saying everyone should go all AWOL on life and forget their responsibilities. But what I AM emphasizing is that we need to take note of those passions, hobbies, or desires and find ways to integrate them into our lives more.

This is because these are the things which nourish our soul and are the clues to our true calling.

And yet these are the very same things we continue to push to the side, and tell ourselves and everyone else that we’ll do ’em “when we have more time.”

Sorry, buckos…but I’mma have to call bullsh*t on that.

That “when we have more time” thing doesn’t really exist in today’s world. Saying it may make us feel better and less guilty at the time for not doing it…but the truth is you’re full of baloney. You’re not gonna make time…and years will past by and you still won’t have made the time. And you’ll still feel stuck and irritated.

(Sorry to go all “hardass” on ya, but just wanna keep it real.)

3.) Ignoring the “Call of Our Soul”

Basically, we may hear the call of our passions and desires, but we find all sorts of excuses of why we can’t, shouldn’t, or won’t answer it because [insert whatever lame excuse you can think of].

It’s all really just a bunch of nonsense, because you’ll then wonder why you still have a major case of the “humdrums.”

And that’s sad. And, likewise, you’re still unhappy. I mean, I’m not trying to be all sadistic and make you feel worse or anything, but if you push away what brings you joy or fills your life with meaning, this denial will eventually weigh on you. It will start to feel like you’re carrying around a ton of bricks on your shoulders; thereby making you feel even more tired, anxious, and depressed.

Yeah, life can suck sometimes. We’ve all been there. No one’s alone in that experience.

The Secret

Here’s how to survive the quarter life crisis

Maybe, just maybe, you’re not filling your side of the bargain with life.

Maybe you need to stop wondering “what life can do for you,” and instead ponder “what you can do for life.”

Maybe you’ve become too complacent in life, too comfortable.

Maybe you’re always letting fear be your navigator…instead of your heart.

And maybe it’s as simple as you’re being all whiny and complain-y but not taking any sort of action to try and remedy the situation. (Ok, fine! I’ll personally fess up to being a habitual culprit of this, jeez louise!)

Regardless, let me fill you in on a magical, but simple secret:

The only way to break free of this melancholic jungle is to do something drastic. Something unheard of. Something…uncomfortable.

In other words: You need to go against what you’ve been doing up until now.

Scary? Yes. Necessary? Yes. Rewarding? Yes.

What? You thought the magical secret would be super easy and require no concerted effort from ya? As IF! (Quick shout out to that dope movie, Clueless.)

Anyways, magical secrets don’t work that way. It’s probably against a universal law, or something. And believe me, I know it will be tough. But that’s exactly why it works.

Think about it. If you’re bored and wallowing in despair…then whatever you’re doing right now in life isn’t working. So you gotta change things up. You have to go against your own personal status quo.

Doing Some Soul Digging

The truth is you don’t have to all of a sudden leap off the edge of a cliff into dark unknowingness…baby steps are fine. Those work too, ya know.

SO think about it: what would that look like for you? And what might be that first baby step for you?

Some possibilities might be:

 I will start a knitting club to connect with others who share a love for this hobby.I will take a class in the community to learn more about __ .I will schedule a solo trip to go hiking in the mountains so I can spend more time getting to know myself while being immersed in nature.I will volunteer to tutor kids at a nearby school.

Anyways, it will look different for everyone. And that’s how it’s supposed to be.

But the real humdinger question is this: what are YOU going to do for LIFE? Read: what are you going to contribute to the world? Hint: it will be something that you’re good at, passionate about, or love to do (hopefully all three) and others could benefit from.

So instead of those “why” questions we discussed earlier, ask yourself these inspiring new “what” questions over and over again. And marinate in them. And journal about them. And dream of them. And, heck, make love to them if you can! (Hmmmm, not quite sure what THAT would look like. Don’t think I wanna know.)

But seriously, just make sure to hold these questions in the back of your mind to create continued ponderings and inner dialog to get you closer to where you want to be. And I can only assume that includes a life of joy, meaning, and excitement to jump out of bed in the morning.

Next Steps

At our very core, humans want to feel like our lives have some sort of purpose, some significance; and that we will make a positive impact somehow, somewhere, or on someone.

It seems like we’re hardwired for it. It’s at the center of our being and has probably been around for much of humanity.

So let this be a call to action for all y’all millennials experiencing quarter life crisis, feeling a bit lost, disenchanted, or discouraged in life: stop being a human “doing” and instead become a human “being.” Stop going through the motions of life and begin to consciously construct a lifestyle now that you’ll smile about later when you’re all grey-haired, toothless, and decrepit.

When you shift into recognizing your unique gifts and passions and decide to apply them in some way to be of service to others, I guarantee you will feel more at ease and have better direction in life.

The concept of a quarter life crisis isn’t new. Go on and take your first baby step. It can only lead to a life that’s more rewarding and purposeful…and a little less tough and confusing.

“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” ~ Neale Donald Walsch