all i ever find is more paperwork

anonymous asked:

After hearing the news about Trump's joke about hanging LGBT's and his plan to speak at the Voter's Values Summit, I'm suddenly thinking about quitting school and legally renouncing my citizenship. What should I do?

I think you should do whatever seems like the best option for you. I don’t want to sound like I’m fear mongering but things aren’t going to get better anytime soon and if you have the means to go somewhere you feel safer then do that. 

Personally my mom has always has “plans” if things ever get too scary for us (my mom is an immigrant and my dad came here as a refugee, and a lot of our families are here under similar circumstances both documented and undocumented) but this past year I think she’s been even more fearful. We’ve done little things like make sure we know each other’s information and where certain paperwork is if anything happens. 

I just… I think a lot of targeted communities are trying to see what we might have to do. Obviously not all of us have the ability to leave, so we find ways that make us feel safer or feel like we have a plan. But I think if this is what’s best for you then you should do it if you want. 

Olicity Drabble: Prompt “You look beautiful”

Hey guys, I’m back to writing in my drabble series, so if you have any prompts, just message them to me, or send me an ask! <3 Gina

READ IT ON AO3:                    Check out my Bratva fic here: 

Prompt: “You Look Beautiful”

Felicity was angry with Oliver. He had forgotten to tell her about the gala that Queen Consolidated was hosting tonight, and she had no time to buy a dress. And given that Moira Queen was going to be there, Felicity had to look her best, so as not to embarrass the company, or herself in from of Moira.

“Most people don’t just have ‘gala attire’ in their closets. Most people don’t even go to Gala’s!” said Felicity angrily to Oliver from across his desk.

“Just wear one of your skirts or something,” said Oliver nonchalantly, his eyes moving back down to the paperwork on his desk.

“Oliver I can’t wear a skirt to a gala! You’re a guy, all you ever have to wear is a suit, but I have to find a dress - which normally wouldn’t be a problem, if you had informed me of it with more than three hours to find one,” huffed out Felicity.

“Sorry,” said Oliver, feeling guilty.

“Do I even really have to go to this thing? We both know your mother would probably prefer if I wasn’t there, and if I show up in one of my skirts I’ll just embarrass the company,” said Felicity, hoping Oliver would let her out of it.

“I need you there Felicity, and there is no way you could ever embarrass the company - I’m pretty sure you’re the one who is running it,” said Oliver sincerely, “if you want I can text Thea to lend you a dress?”

“No its okay, I’ll just go find one now. Make sure you sign the contracts for Milan and give them to George, they absolutely have to go out today!” said Felicity as she exited the room in a hurry and made her way to the elevators.

Oliver watched her go, his eyes unable to leave her. He should’ve told her about the gala earlier, but he knew that whatever Felicity wore, she would look gorgeous. And he really liked her skirts. And he needed her to be there with him, mostly because she was the only thing that kept him sane during those events, and because he loved her. But she didn’t know that.


Felicity was lucky that her friend Liz had an extra dress that was acceptable enough for a Queen Consolidated event. The long navy blue dress had a halter top with no back, and hugged her every curve. After a bit of eye makeup, she pulled half of her hair up, hoping that it would be an acceptable enough hairstyle for the gala.

She looked down at her phone to see that it was already seven, and that it was time for her to go. After casting one last glance in the mirror, she left her house and drove to the museum where the gala was being held.

A half an hour later, Felicity was walking into the museum. There were people everywhere, none of whom Felicity knew. She pulled out her phone to text Oliver and ask him where he was, when she heard Moira Queen behind her.

“Felicity,” said Moria, causing Felicity to turn around.

“Mrs. Queen, it’s nice to see you,” replied Felicity nervously.

“You don’t have to lie to me, I was just wondering if you have seen my son. It seems as if he is always by your side nowadays.”

“I haven’t seen him yet, I’m sorry.”

“No worries, I’m sure he’ll turn up soon. Oliver never was very punctual,” replied Moira cooly, before walking away.

Felicity visibly shivered as she left. Ever since she had told Oliver about Thea and Malcolm, Moira was especially cold towards her. She didn’t know how to fix the situation, and was only grateful that Oliver wasn’t mad at her.

“You look beautiful,” said a voice, pulling her out of her thoughts. Felicity looked up to see Oliver, staring at her, a small smile on his face.

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself,” replied Felicity, causing Oliver to smile, “by the way, your mother is looking for you.”

“She can wait,” replied Oliver as he moved closer to her. “Dance with me?”

“You’re mother would not be happy to see me dancing with you when I should be telling her where you are.”

“She will have to live with it. Now come on, one dance,” said Oliver persistently, before taking one of her hands into his own and leading her onto the floor.

Felicity said nothing as her and Oliver silently swayed to the music. She knew Oliver was just being polite, trying to make up for not telling her about the gala earlier, but she couldn’t help but get excited that she was dancing with him. She knew the crush was unreciprocated, that nothing could ever happen between them, but in this moment, she was just happy to be in his arms.

Oliver knew it was wrong to blow off his mother and dance with Felicity, but when he first saw her from across the room, he couldn’t help but want to do nothing more than take her in his arms. He knew that because of what they did it was too dangerous for him to ever be with her, but in this moment he didn’t care.

They swayed until the song finished, before Felicity pulled herself away from his arms and excused herself to the restroom. Maybe one day when he was no longer the Arrow, he could finally be with her, could finally tell her how he felt.

Oliver could think of nothing he wanted more.

Voice chat misadventures

Luche: I dunno, I just hate getting more paperwork.

Noctis: Lolol Luche is a lazy mofo

Prompto: I mean I guess we can set up a page we can all use

Luche: I’m going to find you and then murder you.

Noctis: WAIT WHY

Prompto: Can I record it??

Prompto: >.>


Prompto: Purely for science


Luche: You called me lazy!!


[Ardyn has entered the chat]

Ardyn: Touch my 113th nephew and no one will ever find your body

Ardyn: Also that sass was top notch Noct

Noctis: Thanks (^.^)

Luche:..aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?

Ardyn: No one threatens to kill my descendant

Ardyn: Except for me


[Soryu x MC] Baby Blues

I had the idea for this Soryu fluff on my mind for quite some time now, but life got in the way… It’s a Sunday but I spent the whole afternoon finishing up some documents for work. Tomorrow’s a public holiday here in Singapore, but I’m probably going to have to do some work as well. OTL

Where is my work-life balance??

I want to write more but what should I write about? And when I’m inspired I often do not have time ahhhhh ;A;

She knew that there was something strange about the way Soryu’s been acting lately… Ever since she returned home from the hospital with their newborn son, he’s been finding all sorts of excuses to leave the house - on the first week, he was apparently busy with thwarting a rival gang’s attempts to smuggle firearms into the country; on the second week, he practically slept in his office every night, determined to finish some important paperwork; on the third week, he received a report stating that one of the Ice Dragon’s warehouses was infested with rats, and he had to oversee the pest control.

Despite having been together for a total of 6 years, she’s still unsure if he meant literal rats or figurative “rats”… While it’s probably the latter, she had to admit that it’s amusing to imagine Soryu - brows knitted, lips pulled into a frown, gun in hand - chasing down furry rodents.

Soryu had never been the type to lie, and she could usually see through his lies anyway, so he really might just be busy… However, she couldn’t help but feel anxious.

It was almost as if he was trying to avoid her and the baby.

Keep reading

A Vehicular Adventure

AN: Oh, this was fun to write. :) 

A million thanks and hugs to @buttercup59 for being the best Beta a girl could ask for! All mistakes are mine.

It had been a long day. Four autopsies with paperwork led to an extra hour tacked onto the end of her already extra-long, twelve-hour night shift. It was days like this when Molly was especially glad she’d bought a car. Dealing with the morning rush on the tube was the last thing she wanted to face.

It was only a ten-minute drive and she was daydreaming, at a red light not far from her flat, of a long, luxurious bath and her bed, when the passenger door was suddenly yanked open and a mass of black wool collapsed inside.

Molly shrieked in surprise and looked over, coming nose-to-nose with a sweaty, panting Sherlock Holmes.

‘Drive!’ He barked breathlessly and slammed the door shut, tossing a black briefcase into the back seat which clanged heavily and ominously.

The light changed, but Molly hesitated. The car behind her honked impatiently.

He twisted around to look out the back and then swung around, pounding on the dashboard. ‘Now!’ His bellow was punctuated by three gunshots, the sound of bullets slicing through the rear bumper breaking Molly out of her shock.

In a heartbeat, all the training came flying to the front of her mind.

Shifting viciously, she pressed the gas and released the clutch in a flurry of smoke, the smell of burning rubber following them as they flew through the intersection.

‘What the hell is going on, Sherlock?’ She shouted, weaving through traffic.

He ignored her, having pulled out his phone. He fumbled with it as he glanced back over his shoulder and placed it to his ear. Molly looked back and instantly regretted it. Three men on motorcycles, dressed in black leather, were gaining on them. But it was the semi-automatics they were pointing at her little blue car that caused her heart to skip a beat.

Get out of the line of fire!

Seeing an opportunity ahead, she made a risky move and jerked the wheel all the way to the right. Sherlock slid into her with a surprised shout. Molly ignored his shocked expression and shifted, pressing the pedal to the floor and shifting as she straightened them out and flew down the side street.

Behind them, the three men sped past, but the sound of honking horns alerted Molly that they would not be far behind once more.

Mentally drawing up her map of London, as well as the expected traffic patterns, Molly quickly traced the fastest route to Scotland Yard.

‘…and I told you the drop was today!’ Sherlock bellowed into the speaker. ‘Honestly, Graham, if you’re what passes for a DI these days, we may as well hand England over to the gangs!’

Molly resisted the urge to look over at him and concentrated on the road. Horns blared at them as she cut people off, screeching through lights and barely managing to avoid getting hit.

The motorcycles were gaining and the leader was close enough that Molly could see the sun glinting off the barrel of his gun. Suddenly, a loud shot sounded and her right side mirror was gone in a shattering of glass and metal.

‘Almost there,’ she gritted her teeth and pressed on. Beside her, Sherlock had finished his call to who she assumed to be Greg Lestrade and tossed the phone to the floor and grabbed the handle above him, his other hand braced against the dashboard.

‘You’re heading for Scotland Yard. Excellent,’ he said calmly, as if he hadn’t brought three gun-toting criminals to her doorstep (figuratively speaking, of course).

‘You hop into my car at a traffic stop in a hail of gunfire with a briefcase you appear to have stolen from some angry criminals and you think I’d take you on a nice country constitutional?’ Molly risked shooting him an incredulous look. ‘Of course I’m bloody going to Scotland Yard!

He smirked.

With too much distance left to go, the motorcyclists were almost upon them. Molly clenched the wheel and tried to think of a way out of this predicament.

‘Turn here!’ Sherlock pointed toward an oncoming side street, just as she shifted gears and swung them around.

‘Already ahead of you!’ Her car shuddered as they fishtailed to a chorus of horns. But they lost the motorcyclists for a moment, enough time for Molly to take the next street and discover a squadron of police cars blocking the road, no less than three dozen coppers hiding behind their open doors with their guns pointed directly at her little blue car.

Immediately, she jerked the wheel to the side and slammed on the brakes. Their momentum carried them and the acrid smell of burning rubber brought tears to her eyes, but she shut them tightly, praying that the car didn’t flip over.

With a teeth-jarring crash, the back of the car crashed into the front of one of the police cars, effectively bringing it to a halt. In the silence that briefly followed, Molly acutely felt the painful pounding of her heart against her ribs, the sound of her laboured breathing, and the breathless laughter of the man beside her.

Opening her eyes, she gaped up at him. His shoulders began to shake and he dropped his head back as he properly laughed, his smile wide and his eyes crinkled in mirth.

Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline, or maybe she’d hit her head on the steering wheel at some point, but Molly found herself smiling, then laughing along with him, tears pouring down her cheeks.

The moment was interrupted when a familiar voice shouted, ‘Sherlock Holmes, what in God’s name have you done?!’

Like a switch had been flipped, Sherlock stopped laughing and rolled his eyes, throwing open the door and pulling himself out of the car. Molly wiped her face and went to open her door when it swung open and she came face to face with Greg Lestrade.

‘Molly?!’ He blurted out in shock.

‘Hey, Greg,’ she waved and unbuckled herself.

Stepping out, she looked around at the scene. The three motorcyclists were face down on the ground, cuffed with half a dozen guns trained on them. Cops were crawling all over the area, examining her car, corralling the watching crowd, taking notes.

‘Molly Hooper,’ a hand flashed in front of her face and she blinked, turning to find Greg watching her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled that warm, boyish grin of his. ‘Nice manoeuvring especially with this prat in the front seat. But how in God’s name did you get roped into this?!’

‘I’m afraid that was my fault, Grisham,’ Sherlock sneered, pulling the briefcase from the back seat and inserting himself between Molly and the DI. ‘Molly happened to be in the exact right place when I needed a quick escape.’

With a flourish, he popped open the briefcase and spun it to face them. Two layers of thick, gold bricks shimmered in the sun.

Molly leaned over to gape at the bounty. There was probably more money in that small case of gold than she would ever make in a lifetime.

‘I think you’ll find this all the evidence you need.’ Sherlock snapped the case shut and held it out to Greg. ‘Which you would have had an hour ago, if you idiots had listened to me from the start.’

‘Paperwork, Sherlock,’ Greg muttered and took the case, handing it over to a passing Sergeant. ‘Law and order is, unfortunately, less about action and more about protecting our asses in case things go south. Makes for a crappy justice system.’

‘Mmm,’ Sherlock sniffed derisively. ‘Boring.’

‘Boring it may be, Sherlock, but it is the law-’

Greg’s rant was largely ignored as Sherlock turned to Molly. Greg rolled his eyes and walked away when he realised his words were falling on deaf ears. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and deduced the deceptively innocent-looking Molly. ‘When did you receive defensive driving training? By your skill set, I know it was not one of Scotland Yard’s pathetic classes. No, you exhibited excellent reflexes, made snap decisions, executed risky manoeuvres that show practiced skill. But why? Not for your job. Not for fun, either…. No, you learned how in order to protect yourself.’ His frown softened in understanding. ‘In case Moriarty retaliated. The only question that remains is who… taught… you…’ Realisation dawned with growing horror on Sherlock’s face. ‘Mycroft…

Molly smiled sweetly, if a bit triumphantly. ‘Apparently, I bested your score. Not one obstacle hit and I beat your time by 0.76 seconds.’

‘The MI6 field test,’ Sherlock said, his eyes wide with surprise. ‘No one has managed to surpass my score in two decades.’

Molly leaned forward, a twinkle in her eye. ‘And on my first try, too.’

With a bold wink, she walked around him toward the officers examining her little blue car. Sherlock turned to watch her walk away, baffled and pleased to discover yet another facet of the pathologist. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she did something that knocked him completely for a loop.

A grin creased his face and he found himself walking after her.

Suddenly, he was in the mood for coffee.

I need help

Okay so I can’t believe I’m doing this. it kind of makes everything a bit of a reality and that’s scary but here goes.

I need support, and as much as i can get. 

As some of you know, I’m a gay Muslim from a pretty traditionalist family, whose head (my father) is an extremely totalitarian, oppressive and abusive perpetrator of some of the worst horrors I’ve experienced in my life.

There’s a lot of stuff i could go into about what he’s done to myself, my mother and my brothers but a lot of the time I don’t know where to start. I have anxiety and panic attacks whenever I’m at home and whenever I have to deal with my father’s personality. He makes me feel like absolute crap, like my opinions, morals and principles are worth nothing in not just his eyes but the world’s. Being in the same house and room as him has become so emotionally traumatising that i struggle to even leave my room when he’s around. 

For the last four years, I’ve been living at university during most weeks. It’s fantastic escape, and I am so grateful for the opportunity to be able to get away from him. But the problem is, now that i know a life without his constant burdening pressure and gaze, I don’t want to go back. I know that the moment i graduate, he will force me to move back into home and subject me to all his ridiculous rules and nuances that i can’t even attempt to justify in my head. His reasoning for everything is so irrational, selfish and chauvinistic it makes me sick. He has no respect for my mother and treats her like an appliance in his house and I’ve fucking had enough. And if i dont obey, he takes it out on my mother and brothers and that kills me more than any amount of disrespect from him can. i can’t bear to watch my family crumble lie this.

I want to tell my parents I’m gay and I want to live a life where I can love and learn as I please. I even came out to my mother about 7 months ago, and her reaction was so profoundly loving that I’m still in disbelief of her support for me.

But i won’t get the same support from my dad. I think that if i come out, i will start to fear for my life, or worse, my freedom. I don’t trust him enough to tell him and i can’t live with him amongst all this secrecy without going completely insane, and killing myself. i am almost completely sure that if i do stay, i will commit suicide somewhere down the line. It would be the first time I tried. It’s too much for me and after being around people who respect and appreciate me in the last few years, from university, tumblr and my other friends I know that i deserve more. At least I hope I do.

I told my mother how I felt, how trapped and isolated my mind was feeling, and how i felt as though i would kill myself if things continued the way they do. No mother wants to hear of her child being so deeply unhappy, especially while she was around but i can’t blame my mother. She moves to this country without knowing a single word of english or any person when she was 17 years old. There is nothing in this country for her except for her husband and children and her helplessness is something that destroys me, because I feel as though I can’t help her. I want to free her.

My mother told me to leave and not turn back. She told me to pursue my happiness and leave the woes of this family behind but I can’t do that. I can’t be selfish and abandon them like that, especially because we are in this together and I’m her eldest son, for petes’ sake. If I can’t do anything for her, who will?

So I’m leaving. I finish school at the end of May and I’m leaving a letter to my father and jumping ship. But not for good. I hope that my father has enough love left in him to feel something when I’m gone. i hope he realises that you can’t treat people like shit every day and still expect them to stick around under the guise of ‘family’.  I hope that he realises that he will lose his son and everyone that loves him if he continues down this path. I will tell him that i will return only if the conditions for my return are met, which include a complete and permanent overhaul of his personality. I hope that one day I can trust him enough to come out to him and be open with my sexuality, with no fear of rejection or punishment, because that’s how a relationship between a father and son should be. if he doesnt change, i will use my degree and job to make a new home and take everything away fro my father, and keep my family safe.

But I know that this isnt necessarily going to happen. More likely than not, my fathers pride and stubbornness will result in my being kicked out of my home permanently, and the anger for my leaving being taken out on my siblings and mum.

So im terrified. i am literally more scared than I have ever been before in my life. Im scared of what might happen to me when I leave, I know that my father will do everything in his power to find me, including sending people to hunt me down and he will scour all paperwork in my name to try and find me. 

So I guess what I’m asking for is a little help, just for a small while. I finish university in may and that’s when I plan on never returning to home. I have a job secured to begin in september and have the pieces of my plan falling together.

But I need help this summer. I hate to do this because I know there are people living in much worse conditions than me who deserve it more so if you have even the slightest doubt that someone else deserves this more than me, then please dont hesitate in helping them first.But between finishing school and starting my job (about 3 months) I wil effectively be on the run. I won’t have a permanent place to stay, or money (my mother is a housewife and has no disposable income of her own to support me with) for this period of time. But i know that if I can get through the summer and remain steadfast until starting my job, I will be okay.

So I’m asking for your support in whatever way you can, either monetarily, through a message of support, if you live in the london area we can even arrange for a coffee or something to get my mind off things during the summer. It’s the first time I will be entirely alone and I’m scared. I promise that for each of you who do support me, i will pay you back in a way that is at least equivalent in your generosity to me.

I apologise if this post seems a bit rushed but theres a lot to my situation, and i can’t really convey it all in one sitting. If anyone wants more information from me, or wants me to explain anything then please say so, you deserve to know the reasons that you’re helping me.

I thank you all from the bottom of my heart and pray that nobody has to undergo hardships like this.

If you can boos this, I will be forever gateful.


There is a donate button here and also on my blog. Thank you all so much and I’m sorry if this was too much to read.