worry-but-not-worry

anonymous asked:

i understand you have a right to your privacy but you've been pretty absent for about six months now and you haven't even given us a vague explanation as to why. All i really need is an "I'm okay" from you and i'll feel 90% better but you silence tells me you're not okay and thats what worries me. I'm not worried about you as a blogger I'm worried about you as a person. so please i don't need your life story i just need a yes or no, are you okay? If anyone can make it through tough times its you

I’m 200% okay. 

A lot has happened while I’ve been gone. I was given a leadership position in my organization, I began an internship where I code and write news articles under a pseudonym, went on a life-changing trip to Israel, and I made some really big life changes. I’m going to see my favorite band in a month and absolutely die. I’m planning on starting a clothing company soon to make clothing in a vein that I’ve never been able to find. I haven’t been ignoring you guys, I just haven’t checked Tumblr. 

This isn’t a goodbye, I may be back again some day, but the past few months I’ve been living life to the fullest and trying not to let social media drag me down. If you want to hear from me a little more often, you can follow my newly birthed artsy instagram

♥️

idea: instead of worrying about who crosses the border, worry about who crosses onto your property. don’t like Muslims or Mexicans? don’t let them on your property, it’s like your own mini US border that’s tailored to your beliefs

i straight up do not give one single ounce of a fuck if you are uncomfortable with me, my body, my gender, my sexual orientation, or if you think im too loud, too annoying, too opinionated, or if you dont like the way i dress or act or speak. i dont fucking care. its not my job to coddle you and your limited view of the world, and if youre gonna get ur panties in a twist over someone existing in a way you arent used to, thats entirely your problem. ill worry about my own shit, you worry about yours.

Cubicle

22) When I’m With You ***FINAL CHAPTER***

Monday // Harry

I paced back and forth in the break room for a good ten minutes. I couldn’t bring myself to walk to my desk, let alone do any work. Not when Roni was in Donald’s office, potentially getting canned.

She’d called me the night before after she’d arrived home, frantic about a phone message she’d gotten from Nina. I’d told her there was no point in worrying until there was actual cause to worry. But boy, was I worried.

A million different scenarios ran through my mind, some circling around again, particularly the one where Holcomb had spilled the beans about my relationship with Roni, as well as our encounter at the pub. Our personal affairs should have nothing to do with our work ethic, at least that was what I’d convinced myself and was prepared to say if I was to be put on trial. But knowing Holcomb…anything was possible.

Looking up at the clock, I realized it was already after nine. Roni was still behind the closed door down the hall. It hadn’t opened once. Resolving that my pacing wasn’t gonna do any good, I finally made my way to my cubicle. I sat down in my chair, my fingers on the keyboard, but I typed nothing. I didn’t even bother to turn the damn computer on. I just stared at the black screen.

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Kakorrhaphiophobia

Kakorrhaphiophobia (n.) - The fear of failure.

When Ken was younger, he used to fear his exams, because if he didn’t do well on them, he would end up disappointing and angering his mother, so he tried hard to make sure that his grades were always up to her expectations.

When Ken was a teenager, he used to fear a life without Hide, because Hide was his only solace in a world where he did not have a home. He really wanted them to be friends for the rest of their lives.

Those days were so simple since he was young and human.  

But as a young, naive half ghoul he worried about being eaten alive. He worried about losing the small home that he was given and the people that had becomes so precious to him. Even if that meant him sacrificing himself just for them to stay safe.

As Haise, he just wanted to protect the only life he knew by playing the role of a perfect human even though he was quietly suffering in his mind.

But now, none of those fears seemed to compared to the ordeals that he must face for ghouls to go back into the outside world.  

He cannot fail for their sakes, for her sake, for the sake of their child.

He ran his hands over her small bump, hoping that this little flicker of life won’t go away.

“I’ll protect the future for ghouls,” he swore quietly. Should he fail, the consequences would be great, especially with the recent change of events. If something goes wrong, who knows ow many ghouls will die? Failure isn’t an option.

Hecan’tfailcan’tfailcan’tfailcan’tfailcan’tfailcan’tfailcan’tfailcan’tfailcan’t-

Touka placed her hand on top of his head, stroking it lightly. “Don’t forget to protect yourself too.”  

He leaned into her touch and continued listening for the faint heartbeats. “Yeah.”

anonymous asked:

Oh, have you not seen Alice in Wonderland? Basically, Alice falls down a rabbit hole, so I was making a joke with your name. Sorry to worry you...

oh!! I was just worried that you knew me irl or something! your message had a very….knowing tone to it… ♡ anyways now that you’ve explained, it’s cute! so thank you 🌹🌸

I thought this would be good to spread around, considering I’m seeing some people expressing worry about DDADDS being like, a joke. I’m pretty sure we’re in the clear (tbh until I saw him talking about it and then found this, I was a smidge worried, too)

yeah, anyone worried about the game should see this, and read what vernon has said about the game. the people working on it definitely takes it seriously!

one of the co-creator’s (who’s lgbt) also assured someone on twitter that dream daddy is a very sincere and heartfelt game, and not in any way a homophobic joke

Lance feeling conflicted in season one

Keith feeling conflicted in season two

Lance not being accepted in season one

Keith not being accepted in season two

Keith worrying about Lance in season one

Lance worrying about Keith in season two

Lance getting hurt in season one

Keith getting hurt in season two

WHAT DOES ALL THIS MEAN I WONDER…

Okay, so like how when sheep/kids baaa at you and you baaa back and they all baaa again?? How would aliens react is if a human on their mission started making the creatures noise back at them until they all doing it.

Well…

The mission was fairly simple in Grutona’s mind: follow the tracks of certain creatures and use environmental clues to discern aspects of the creature’s lifestyle and needs. The group had been following the large, octagonal shaped prints of a swutonaton for the past several standard hours, and up to this point, they still hadn’t actually encountered the beast.

Good. Grutona was not keen on being eaten alive today, which would surely be the result of disturbing the beast. Protocol on the mission was to leave should contact be breached with any species that was not fully documented.

However, there was one member of the team that made Grutona worry. Maria seemed to take things like Protocol as more of a… guideline. Already today Maria had disregarded rules about eating wild tree fruit claiming “they have these on my planet, don’t worry!” Grutona did worry. Especially when Maria added: “Besides, they’re delicious.” Grutona knew what type of treefruit Maria was eating, and xhe was skeptical of the claim. These deadly fruits humans called “lemons” were HIGHLY acidic and sour. On xer home world, a fruit like that would be used by deadly criminals as a poison.

Needless to say, having a human on the crew had been an eye-opening, mind-boggling experience. Grutona was learning more about universal cultures on this mission than ever before, that was for certain.

It was a few more minutes of walking along the path, Grutona taking note of the way the plant life was smashed down to the side of the path of the tracks as if the swutonaton had stopped for a time and rested.

“Ah, so it appears swutonaton are a restful breed, and likely a predator species as evident by their choice location being one leaving them so vulnerable.” Kerip, another member of the team, said this clinically, xis eyes dilating further as his species was wont to do in order to get a magnified look at things. As he was examining he spoke to his partner, Bepin who recorded xis observations on a datapad.

There was a noise further down the trail, strangely like a yawn. Grutona looked over cautiously. Maria was gone. Grutona frowned and made toward the sound hoping it was just Maria doing some sort of human thing xhe was unfamiliar with and not the beast hiding in the plant life beyond planning an attack on the mission crew.

But when had luck ever been on Grutona’s side?

As xhe rounded the bend in the trail xhe was met with the horrifying sight. Xhe would have screamed if it were a characteristic of xer race. Instead, xhe stood there in shock.

Maria stood in front of the creature they were tracking all right. The only thing was, the team was entirely wrong about what they thought they were following here. They had assumed the animal was very large, at least nine or ten times the actual size of the creatures in front of them now. And creatures they were. There were at least fifteen of these creatures and they were all piled atop one another, drooling heavily, spiked tails and trunks laying anywhere. 

“I’d definitely call this a dog-pile.” Maria chuckled, completely unconcerned at the reality that basically everything they had assumed about these creatures was wrong. Maria turned to look at Grutona, eyes gleaming in mischief. “Guess we were wrong about the elephant-sized animal with forty pig-sized feet, huh?” Grutona said nothing, still reeling. They needed to leave, Protocol demanded it, and they needed to go soon before more of the creatures woke up as one was doing now.

“Hey, look! They’re starting to wake up! They’re so cute!” Maria took another step closer to them, making cooing noises as Grutona watched in horror as more of the swutonatons started to rouse. Footsteps behind xer alerted xer to the rest of the team arriving to the scene finally. 

There was a moment of stunned silence before an exasperated sound came from Bepin and Kerip started mumbling in astonishments about all the things they had wrongly ascertained. 

“We should leave,” a voice of reason finally called from the back of the group: Teriwald, the ranked officer from the ship who had been tasked with “protecting the scientists” on the expedition.

Grutona found xer voice again, finally. “You’re–”

There was a sudden, loud sound from the pile of creatures “Meeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrm.”

“Okay, that was the greatest thing I’ve ever heard,” Maria was watching the herd of swutonaton with complete adoration in her gaze. Grutona had been warned to be wary of humans when they assumed a look like this one. There was no telling what kind of things they might do next. 

Whatever Grutona had expected, it was not what Maria did next. Maybe xhe thought she would have started running in circles around the group or walk over and touch one, but xhe certainly did not predict that  Maria would raise her arms in imitation of a swutonaton trunk and repeat the noise back at them in perfect imitation. “Meeeeeeeerrrrrm!”

“What are you doing, we need to go!” Teriwald reminded in an increasingly demanding tone. 

“Calm down, Waldo, we’re fi–” Maria was cut off by several cries of the swutonaton calling back at her.

“Meeeeeerrrm!” 

“Oh, this is too good!” More of the swutonaton had stirred now, and they were climbing off of each other and standing in a herd before Maria who laughed and made the noise again. 

“Meeeerrrm!”

“MEEEEEEEEERRRRRM!!!” The entire herd of seventeen (Grutona had counted in xer moments of horror earlier) swutonaton were now calling back at Maria’s prompting. 

Nobody on the team said anything as they all watched in rapt attention Maria and the herd of swutonaton yell at each other for the next ten standard minutes. 

Humans, Grutona concluded, still half horrified, are weird.

Shortly after the overdose, Bob decided to tell Jack the story of why he really got put in the Stanley Cup as a baby.  It was Bob’s way of thanking the cup.

“After I won my first cup,” he told Jack, “I realized I’d achieved my dream, and I had married this amazing woman, but something still felt like it was missing.  I wanted to be a father.”  He told Jack how he and Alicia had tried to have a baby, but it just wasn’t happening.  As the months dragged on with more of the same, they started to get worried.  

“And even when you were worrying you’d never truly be happy you managed to win the cup again, yeah?  That’s the moral of the story?” Jack snapped.  Bob shook his head, reached out to run a hand over Jack’s back, like he could smooth down his son’s frayed nerves.  

“Non, non, non, that would be a terrible moral.  Actually my stats were worse that year than when I was a rookie.  But my team was incredible, and we made it to the cup again.  And here’s where the story gets good, you see, because I’d heard all kinds of wild legends through the league about ‘cup magic’ and how sometimes it would grant wishes”

“Or turn you into a fucking penguin,” Jack scoffed.

“Well I was playing for the Canadiens at the time, so I suppose there wasn’t much risk involved, but there was a whole lot of desperate hope.So on my cup day, after everyone else left, I sat down and had a chat with it,” he gestures to the table they’re sitting at.  “Right at this kitchen table.”

“Please tell me that’s the only part of this story that happened at this table,” Jack groaned.  Bob laughed.

This story, yes.”

“Papaaaa,”  Jack picked up his bowl of cereal and pointedly continued eating without letting his food touch the table.

“Oh for God’s sake, Jack, this table has been cleaned many times since, put your food down for a bit, I’m trying to have a moment with you here.”

“Alright, alright, fine.”  Jack obediently set the bowl aside and faced his father.

“As I was saying…” Bob cleared his throat.  “I talked to the cup.  I told it I didn’t care if I ever won it again.  All I wanted was a son.  If it would give me that, I promised, I wouldn’t ask to win so much as a faceoff for the rest of my life.  And I promised that I would love my son - that I would love you - unconditionally, more than anything in the world.”

“And you won a fuckton more awards anyway.”

“But,” Bob countered, “I didn’t win the cup again until after you were born when I was with the Pens.  And so when your mother brought you onto the ice to see me, I wanted us to put you in the cup, but it wasn’t supposed to pass along some kind of hockey magic and ensure the Zimmermann dynasty or whatever the fuck ESPN likes to say, alright?  We did it as a thank you.  We wanted the cup to see what a beautiful baby we had, and to feel how incredibly loved you were.”  Bob ran a hand over Jack’s newly-cropped hair, feeling the strands against his palm, almost as soft as when he used to sit next to Bob in his high chair smashing banana all over the tray.  “I kept my promise too,”  Bob said.  “I love you.  Unconditionally.  More than anything in the world.  And your mother and I just want to help you be happy, whatever that looks like.”  He smiled warmly at his son, letting all the pride he usually kept a lid on to keep from embarrassing Jack bubble up to the surface.  Jack looked down at his hands.

“How can you not be disappointed?  Look at me.”  Jack’s shoulders hunched in, shrinking him down, and Bob pressed his hand between Jack’s shoulder blades, rubbing circles in the way that always used to put him right to sleep as a child.

“I will always be proud of you, hockey or no.  Because you know what?”  Jack chanced a glance up at his father’s face and was held by his earnest expression.  “Winning the Stanley Cup isn’t even in my top hundred favorite memories anymore.  All of my best memories are with you and your mother.”  Jack didn’t say anything in response, and Bob was learning when to give him space to process, so he stood up, bending back down to kiss his son’s forehead as he snagged the now-soggy bowl of raisin bran from in front of him.

It took a few days for Bob to get a real response from Jack, and in the meantime he just left everything to percolate.  And then one night, Bob just couldn’t seem to fall asleep.  His knee wasn’t quite hurting, but it was on that edge where it just didn’t feel settled, and Alicia had been snoring, and at the back of his head he could feel some kind of humming, like he could feel the tense air in Jack’s room.  He’d gotten himself all worked up mulling that last one over until he had to get out of bed.  He stood in front of Jack’s bedroom door, looking at the light peeking out from below the doorjamb for minutes, listening to the sounds of floorboards creaking occasionally, pages rustling, a keyboard clacking.  After he’d gotten enough of the sounds of Jack just existing on the other side of the door to calm his racing heart, he went to the living room.  

He settled into the couch with a box of crackers and a nature documentary when he heard footsteps creaking on the stairs.  At first, he was expecting Alicia coming to call him back to bed, but the footfalls were too loud for her.  Bob tried not to look surprised when Jack rounded the corner, keeping his eyes carefully trained on Animal Planet.  He held up the crackers in greeting.

“Joining your old man for a midnight snack, eh?”

“Oh.  Um, sure.”  Jack padded over to the couch and made himself comfortable next to Bob, pulling down the afghan from the back of the sofa.  They stare at the TV in silence for a long while before Jack speaks up again, quietly.  “Papa?”

“Yes?”

“So…what exactly was better than winning the cup?”