FEEL-THE-EFFORT

Dean barely notices when Sam runs into the house to investigate the nephilim situation. His eyes dart this way and that, taking in the tattered, broken wingspan spread out before him.

All of the times that he lost Cas, he never saw his wings. Not once. And it feels so…final.

Dean’s lips tremble as he casts his gaze upwards towards where he knows heaven is watching. He wonders if the angels care. He wonders if God cares.

He knows Chuck probably isn’t even in heaven, and maybe he has his ears turned off while he’s having the family meeting to end all family meetings with Amara, but he tries anyway. He wants to beg, bargain, and scream, but he’s not sure he can speak. He sends up a plea, his lips mouthing silent prayers.

The air is still. Too still. Deathly still.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and slumps down to the ground. He bows his head down, but he can’t yet bear to look. Not yet. Not again.

He breathes, and it feels like a monumental effort. He is hyper aware of being alive, of his lungs filling with oxygen and expelling carbon dioxide, and suddenly he thinks he might understand why yoga helps to clear the mind. Maybe he’ll take it up. He could do with a nice, clear mind after…after…

He opens his eyes. Cas is there, but he isn’t.

Dean swallows against the burning lump in his throat as he reaches a hand out. Hand touches hand. One is cold.

Dean stares at the eyes and wills them to open as he curls his fingers around the still, cold hand. And finally, after much effort, he finds that he can speak.

“Please,” Dean pleads, his voice smaller than he thinks it has ever been. “Please. Cas. I need you.”

No. That’s not right. That’s not enough.

“I love you.”

Too late. He says it, finally, after all of these years, and it falls on deaf ears. Ears that will never hear those words.

Dean’s eyes sting. “Come back. Like you always do.” His voice cracks. “I love you. I love you. I love you. Please come back.”

The world is still. Too still.

He’s not coming back this time.

Dean folds himself over Cas’s body and finally allows himself to break.

it feels so good to be kind. it’s the warm feeling you get when you tell someone that they look nice today, or that they did a good job, or that their voice sounds lovely, or that the cookies they baked were delicious, or how you always laugh at their jokes. it’s the warm feeling you get when they respond bashfully, or surprised, with that small smile and a thankfulness that shines in their eyes. it feels so good when someone is kind to you. when it feels like the effort you put into yourself is seen and acknowledged and appreciated. it feels so good when you’re able to make someone feel that wonderful. we should always try and encourage each other.

The gods are among us.

Zeus drinks himself half to death at the bar. He makes bedroom eyes at every pretty girl to walk in the room. They will clutch their cans of mace a little tighter as they walk home tonight.

Aphrodite helps a beaten girl to her feet, holding her tight as her young body is racked with sobs. Artemis stands nearby, preparing to hunt the thief of this young girl’s innocence. These are the only hunts she participates in anymore.

Athena glares at Ares as bloody knuckles and booted feet connect with battered bodies between them. The fight clubs are their temples now.

Dionysus stands behind a bar, serving drinks to rowdy men and pretty girls. Later, he will be found holding back the hair of girls, too young for the drinks they swallowed, as they vomit the concoctions they drank to forget the pain in the world. Dionysus understands and so he drinks more than anyone, if only to forget the suffering that has filled his immortal life.

Hestia mourns the numerous broken homes. She puts extra effort in protecting the scant few happy families left. So Hestia has created a home for those lost and abandoned, for she too knows how it feels to be cast out by the family who should have loved you unconditionally. She understands what it feels like to be adrift and homeless.

Apollo sits on a busy, crowded street, strumming his guitar and singing a song of loss and pain. He uses poetry and music to mourn the pain in the world. He berates himself constantly, because for every life he saves, ten more are extinguished. He has stopped visiting hospitals because he can’t help but feel his efforts are futile. He hasn’t seen his sister in years, and he misses her most at night, when he can see her beloved stars and moon.

Hermes slumps in a chair, exhausted from the horror gracing the human news. He decides he is no longer deserving of the title “messenger of the gods,” since he hasn’t delivered a message in centuries. Not when the gods no longer keep in touch. So he reverts to his favorite pastime: stealing. But what use is mortal money to a god?

Hera sits in the shadows of a bar and struggles to summon the dredges of the vindictive, jealous anger that used to come so easily to her when she saw her husband with another woman. Hera thinks that perhaps in this modern world, she would do better as the goddess of divorce. Because, really, how can she profess that marriage is the best gift the world has to offer when she can’t even keep her husband in her bed? When he doesn’t even bother pretending that he loves her? Yes, goddess of failed marriages has such a lovely, miserable ring to it.

Poseidon wanders the beach, picking up the scattered trash that poisons his domain. His tears mix with the salt water on his cheeks and he weeps for the suffering of his oceans. He feels the pollution like a phantom pain, and he scoffs at himself, full of loathing for the god of the sea who could not protect his oceans from mortals.

Hades lounges in his extravagant mansion, smiling at his lovely wife curled at his side. Blessed is he, for there will always be death, and mortals will always worship his riches. Of all his siblings, Hades, the scorned brother, cursed to rule the underworld, is the only one to still enjoy immortality.

Persephone is as beautiful as ever and she is happy with her loving husband who always joins her in her protests, right alongside her as she weeps for for the dying of this earth, as she cries herself to sleep at night when she thinks of all the loss of nature’s beauty and life. This world is suffering and she is the only one to hear its cries. They haunt her dreams.

Hecate flips the sign on the window to say closed. She longs for days gone by when people knew the truth. Magic is very real. Instead, she has to smile politely while customers come to her store to purchase items they know not how to use and religious men preach about how witchcraft is a sin, and she will burn in hell. Hecate does not care. She is as immortal as magic.

Cupid narrows his eyes with scorn every time he hears the word love fly from the lips of people who do not understand the meaning of the word. Though who is he to judge them when all his matchmaking attempts end in failure. Perhaps the mortals simple do not want him to decide who they love. Perhaps it is their turn to choose.

Athena prowls through college campuses, holding signs high in protect with the students around her. These fearless children are her people. She scoffs at the professors who are simply going through the motions, who fail to appreciate the brilliant minds all around them. She never fails to notice.

Ares picks his way across a battlefield and finds himself at the ruins of what used to be an elementary school. He no longer understands war, hasn’t for centuries. This was not brave, this was not heroic. This was senseless bloodshed. He sees nothing holy in this ruined world.

Aphrodite swallows the bile in her throat as she hears another rapist has been left free. She glares daggers at boys yelling obscene things at women. She’s long stopped romanticizing love. However, sometimes she sees a young girl handing over her baby to an older couple who tried for years, and she remembers what she once represented. Sometimes she sees Ares across the room of soldiers returning from the horrors of war, and as they embrace the loved ones they left behind, she smiles at him.

Artemis takes her role as protector of young women seriously. There’s a gun tucked into her waistband and a switchblade in her pocket. She can’t save them all, so she has also become an avenging goddess. She can be found in the streets or at battered women’s shelters, preparing for the next hunt.

The gods are dying. The gods wish they were dead. Is immortality a blessing or a curse?

—  The gods were always too human for their divinity (inspired by the writings of @crossroadsbela )
Long rant about Portugal winning cuz I’m salty and can’t sleep

First of all, to all the people who’re gonna say 

“You don’t appreciate good music!”
What music I like and what would be considered “good” music is not for you to decide.

or “You’re just jealous that your fave didn’t win!” 

You are absolutely right, and here’s why:

  1. The song itself was pretty forgetful and boring to listen to. Literally ASMR material. It was different, yes, but just because something is different, it doesn’t make it exceptionally good.
  2. The singer blantantly disrespected the contest itself and acted as if his music was superior to everybody else’s. 
    Bulgaria, Hungary, Moldova: “Bitch, hold my fucking poodle.”
  3. Actual quote of him: “Music is not fireworks, music is feeling.”
    Music can be anything and that’s the beauty of it. All the other contestants that you bashed in your speech put just as much feeling and effort into their songs, maybe even more than you. Stfu.
  4. Actual arguments by ppl defending the song:
    -He sung in Portuguese
    -He performed despite having a heart condition
    -The audience was quiet during his performance
    -He looks cute

    Let me take em one by one..
    a) There were other songs, who sung in their own language as well, what’s your point
    b) Good for him, but that was pretty reckless, considering smthg serious COULD’VE happened
    c) They were quiet cuz the dude was whispering and maybe they were even *asked* to be quiet
    d) Kristian looked 10x cuter, thank you. 
  5. People saying that “A song with meaning won”, did you actually read the lyrics in English? His song was about love, the most generic topic in a boring ass ballad.
  6. You want a song with meaning, that isn’t sung in English and is quite memorable?
    FUCKING HUNGARY!!!!!! 
    Did anybody even bother with Hungary??
    Traditional music, traditional dancing, traditional clothing (partially), bilingual singing (none of it in English) AND the song was about the racism that Romas (aka Gypsies) face. PLUS THE SONG WAS ACTUALLY QUITE MEMORABLE AND VERY UNIQUE
  7. People were angry and pissed at Portugal winning, not because they hate Salvador or even the song, but because there were so many others that deserved it much more.
    No matter HOW you look at it, this was by no means a “winner” song. It sounds like no-copyright Coffeeshop music. And if the jury and the viewers voted for him because of him behaving in a peculiar way or because of his heart condition, Idk what to say to you. This isn’t the first time this happened, Conchita also won because of her being a drag Queen, however, her song was not that horrible tbh. I’ve already forgotten the rythme of Salvador’s song, that’s how forgettable it is. 
  8. And finally @ all the people being salty that Bulgaria didn’t win: I feel your pain.
    Compared to Portugal, Bulgaria was heaps better and idc what Salvador thinks about other artists, but you cant tell me that Kristian didn’t put just as much heart and soul into his performance with even better vocals and an actual good song all around. Both songs were about love, so you can’t argue with any difference in lyrical content. He was also very angry at himself and apologized for not being able to make it 1st place. He apologized for being ONLY 2nd, which is very admirable for a 17 year old to even GET this far. You deserve the world, boy. Your song will actually be played on radio stations and may your records be purchased by millions.

I think that’s all I had to say. Eurovision has become a disappointing joke. 

I’m just trying to find someone that I can spend hours talking to and it feels like seconds. Someone that gets me and wants to work with me to create a life. Something that despite the effort, feels so easy.

And also to makeout with, but besides the point

i look in the mirror, bags under my eyes, my hair up in a messy bun. heavy sadness in my eyes. baggy clothes. i just don’t care what i look like, i don’t care about anything

“you need to eat, you’re loosing weight like crazy.” yeah except i’m not hungry at all. i feel sick all the time. so i just keep drinking my powerade.

my eyes are bloodshot from crying for hours. my mom lays there with me and let’s me cry and tries to comfort me. the headaches always there.

i try to talk to new guys but nobody makes me feel anything. all i see is him when i close my eyes. i can’t escape him.

i go into my room and open the box with the note he wrote. “i’ll always love you.” i’m filled with anger as i throw things against the wall in a rage. just being in this room feels like the ghost of him is still here. how can someone love you so much, then they just don’t anymore?

i just want to sleep but i can never stay asleep. i wake up at 230 everyday and can never go back to bed. i’m so tired. my mind and body. is this what it feels like to die? because that’s what this feels like. it’s so much effort to make it through the damn day.

tick
tick
tick

waiting for time to go by because that’s what heals you right? so i wait and i wait. then i realize i have been staring at the wall for 20 minutes. how did i not notice?

“come out with us it will be fun!” i don’t want to go, i have to make myself. i don’t even know what fun is anymore. but i try, i plaster on the fake fun. because nobody wants to see the sad girl who can’t get over the guy who left her suddenly. so i pretend. but i feel like i’m suffocating the whole time. it’s exhausting to pretend.

when people talk about love, they never mention this part. it amazes me how one single person can destroy you and strip away everything that you are. i think of the girl i used to be. i want so badly to get back there. i worry that i’ll never be her again. and deep down i know that i won’t be. i know that i’ll survive, i’ve seen it in many others. it just nearly kills you in the process.

—  Chapters from my life

do you ever just look at something you used to do, and stopped because of your illness.

and you just sit there and wonder “do i want to do that again? could i? how would that go with what- who- i am now?”

its just depressing, because i realized alot of my hobbies ive given up either because of my illness, or because ive gotten too busy and too exhausted to do them, because of my illness.

i want to try again, but i dont feel like putting in the effort for something that might not work out.

sometimes my illness doesnt take away my ability to do something, just my motivation to try.

5

February’s Featured Game: Aria’s Story

DEVELOPER(S): Lydia
ENGINE: RPGMaker VX Ace  
GENRE: Horror, Puzzle, Exploration
WARNINGS:  Blood, minor jumpscares
SUMMARY: Aria is a bookworm who loves adventure stories and always spends her free time in the library. One day she falls asleep while reading a book and when she wakes up the library is closed. Believing that they forgot to wake her up, she tries to find a way out… In that moment she becomes the protagonist of her own story.

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Keep reading

Effort is sexy..

Effort is addicting..

Effort makes her feel special..

Effort makes her feel cherished..

Effort should be consistent..not just when they are bored or lonely..

Effort is a true reflection of how someone feels about you..

If they care, you’ll know..

If they want you, you’ll know..

If they desire you, want you, need you, you’ll know..

If you matter, you won’t have to guess..

If they can’t stop thinking about you, you’ll know because you’ll be the first person they think of in the morning and the last person before they go to sleep..

Don’t settle for half ass measures of affection..

Random thoughts from sleepy VA..

2

I know this can be frustrating. And it can feel like so much effort to progress such a small amount. But, I want you to know that I’m proud of you. I’ve never met someone so determined to better themselves. You’ve grown so much since we’ve started training, and I know this is just the beginning.

Being a lone pet

Being a pet without an owner can sometimes make it hard to feel like a “real pet”; trust me, I know. I was a solo pet for quite a long time. But there are some things you can do to make yourself still feel like the pet you are:

  • wear a collar. just because you are not owned, doesn’t mean you cannot wear a collar. if you are a single pet, by choice or by nature, you can still proudly wear a collar of your choice to prove your pet identity and sense of self.
  • set a schedule for yourself. lots of owners like to give their pets vague or strict schedules to adhere to, to keep them productive throughout the day. just because you’re on your own, doesn’t mean a schedule won’t benefit you; in fact, it’s a very healthy habit to get into.
  • give yourself treats, when you earn it. when a pet does something good, owners will typically reward them for their positive efforts. feel free to reward yourself when you finish an assignment, finish your chores, or accomplish a goal you’ve been working toward.
  • go into pet space. give yourself time to be a pet; chase a ball, paw at a mouse, run through the woods. you are a pet and you should make time for yourself to act like one.
  • remember you are valid. so many pets feel as though they are not valid just because the do not have an owner and that is absolutely not true. every pet, no matter their species, owner status, or anything else is any less of a pet than the next. you are a pet, never let anyone take that from you.

there are many other ways to deal with being a pet without an owner (feel free to add your own) but the key is to remember that just because you are on your own, you are not any less of a pet. do what makes you feel like your species (dog, cat, pony, etc.), do what makes you happy. there is nothing that makes you any less of a pet than one that has an owner. your perfect owner will come along someday, just be patient and remember to take care of yourself in the meantime. and message me if you ever need advice or a have any questions.

“From the shoulder, beyond my wrist - Look out evil, it’s my fist!”
- Hal Jordan

I confess: I have absolutely no clue what Kyle has been up to in the n52. Last I read he was a white lantern so… Also, anyone knows where the quote’s from? I can’t find it.

PS: I took a pic with my phone instead of scanning it and coloured it in using the trackpad of my mac. It’s not relevant to the result but I feel like my efforts should be acknowledged.

Arrows / Bats / Flashes / Wonders