a simple evening


My first contribution to Ransom Week; a Nurseyrans piece centered around the prompt “Engaged”

The ring on his finger was extremely noticeable the next morning. Justin held his hand up so that he could really look at it; it was a solid gold band with emeralds set in it all the way around. It felt heavy; not because of the material, but because of the weight of what it meant to him now. It wasn’t just some ring he was going to be wearing; it was the ring Derek’s mother had given his father when they had been married.

Justin’s mind went back to the night before, their simple evening that changed the course of their lives forever.

“Nothing big,” Justin asked of Derek when he came in from the hospital. He was supposed to be on vacation now, otherwise he would overwork himself.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Derek grinned, draping himself over Justin, who was sitting on their couch. This apartment was theirs; had been for almost six years now. It had seen a lot from the two of them, unsurprisingly, from their biggest fights to Justin’s residency to the publishing of Derek’s first novel. It was their home.

Somehow it made sense to Justin that Derek would propose to him here, away from prying eyes, in their little home, that had seen them through so much.

“Nothing big,” Justin has said, but Derek had already planned one of the biggest things yet. When they were pressed together, watching Grey’s Anatomy (so Justin could point out the points that were realistic and the ones that were clearly fictional, mainly, it was a pastime for them), Derek quietly took Justin’s hand in his own, and the next thing Justin knew, there was a ring on his finger, and a story on Derek’s lips.

“Before my dad went off to Iraq he gave me this, told me to keep it safe for the person I wanted to marry,” he murmured, “I had to get it taken down a size, and the huge emerald that was in the middle had to come off. But last month I…”

Derek shrugged, looking up at Justin, who was still too shocked for words. “I looked at you, covered in spit and vomit and all that other nasty shit, laughing at whatever Holster said, and I wanted to. Right then. I wanted to marry you.”

His chill was failing him, Justin could tell, he was getting more and more nervous, wondering if what he was doing was right. Justin could always tell when Derek was starting to panic. It had taken a while to grow accustomed to and he couldn’t always see the signs in the beginning but now he was so attuned to his boyfriend it was easy to see when Derek was becoming unsure.

“You think your dad would have liked me?” Justin asked as he brought his gaze up from the ring to Derek’s eyes. He saw the relief there before it flooded Derek’s features. Derek pressed himself closer to Justin, giving him a small, chaste kiss.

“He would have loved you.”

And Justin truly believed that.

His belief in it and the movement at his side brought him back to the present. Derek shifted so that he was nearly on top of Justin, his face pressed into Justin’s neck. Justin smiled and brought his hand down so that it rested in Derek’s hair.

The sun glinted off the band around his finger; a promise, reminder, and engagement all at once.

at the risk of sounding too emotional, i just wanna say something.

whoever has commented, liked, reblogged, or sent me a message about my current fic has helped me in more ways than you’ll ever know. every time you say even a simple ‘i like your writing’ or ‘the story you’re telling is interesting’, it makes me feel, well, less depressed and useless. 

i’m a cellist. it’s my career and it’s what i’ve been going to grad school to study for the past few years. i got into a car accident last october and it’s rendered my right arm completely useless. i’m in constant pain, i can barely pick up anything or clean my house or, sometimes, even type. and, i can’t play cello, at all - i can’t even pick up my bow without dropping it. 

so, amidst all the physical therapy appointments (that aren’t helping) and the constant dread of having to get up in the morning and face another day with a useless arm and the fact that i can’t pursue my passion, i started writing again. i hadn’t for years. and i’m so glad i’ve once again picked it up. because, even though there’s only a few of you, i have an audience again. i am able to once again display a passion of mine - because writing a fic and posting it every week is like playing a recital (except slightly less scary because i don’t see all your faces in the crowd at once as i start to play). 

every time you comment, like, reblog, or send me a message about my fic, it makes me feel a little bit more like a useful person again. scratch that - it makes me feel like a person at all. it makes me feel a little bit more hopeful about my situation, and that maybe even if i can’t play cello ever again, i can try to replace it with something useful. maybe it won’t be writing, but - something.

to sum it all up, thank you guys. from the bottom of my heart. thank you.

anonymous asked:

I want to start experimenting with they/they pronouns and a different name, but I dont know how to do that without asking my family to change anything because Im not out to them yet (and i dont plan to be until i know what my identity is fully)

Well, friends are good for this. If they’re supportive, you could try asking them to change pronouns and names for you, see how it feels. Also, try out referring to yourself with different pronouns/name. It’s actually really helpful talking to yourself and seeing how it fits!

Online is always helpful! Try going by a different name, different pronouns on social media. After a while, you might get a feel for it. 

Write little things about yourself using your preferred name/pronouns. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just simple sentences, even. For example:

Ellis typed away on their computer. They wondered if they were doing okay at answering the asks sent to them.

You don’t need to figure it out right away. Take time to think about it, try out names and pronouns. No one’s saying you have to come out soon, or even at all. 

pumpkin7141  asked:


Super detailed questions about your OCs

Accepting ||


16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?

She actually dose have quite the collection of stolen goods she obtained over her travels of Tamriel. All from simple instruments she thought was pretty cool to valuable artifacts. Whooed young men out of priceless family heirlooms. Even just simple outfits she thought was nice and probably still wears. Which I am sure Brynjolf would like ;D

I’m also sure Brynjolf would get a kick out of the stories she tells with each item. 

I swear! He’s not looking at her boobs!

angerybisexual  asked:


“I’ll be quite alright, dear. Truly, I don’t require as much care as you believe. All I’ve to do today is change the bandage before bed. Simple. I’ll even wrap it your way to keep you satisfied.”

Once! :) It’s a sweet little interaction between the reader and Daveed. 

Send me a word. I’ll give you the sentence in my work in progress.

mira-jadeamethyst  asked:

Anxiety's awake and has the short-n-sweet version of what's going on. The Anon-Squad seem to all be alive and mostly unharmed. Dark has a cut on their arm, because some idiot gave them *knives*, but that seems to be it. [lips twitch slightly] Andy got Corr!Prince with a slingshot stone though. And Corr!Morality got hosed down with holy water. It didn't do anything, unfortunately, (that would have been a nice, simple solution, even if we had to keep doing it consistently) but it was funny.

*chuckles a bit at the last part, then thinks about what happened before, trying hard to recall their weakness but fails* Dark need to take care of their wound. *frowns* And let’s just hope people don’t teleport Anxiety to the nightmare land. At least…I still need him to take care of me. *slightly annoyed by this fact* 

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.