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Writing Out Of Mind

@captainderyn / captainderyn.tumblr.com

Deryn|20s|A sweet mixture of writings and ramblings. Mass Effect and LOTRO|Commissions: Ko-Fi Sketch Only| Icon and Header by: sbeep
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tigeristired

i think 'I trust you with my life but not your own' as a trope is one of the ones that can always fuck me up no matter what

"I trust you with my life because you are good and kind and noble--I know you will not hesitate to do everything in your power to save me.

I do not trust you with your own life because you are good and kind and noble--I know you would not hesitate to sacrifice yourself to save me."

THAT is where it's at!!!!!

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captainderyn

minific prompts for anyone: U. Coming home

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Thank you for the ask! I’m sorry that this took me forever to answer…and that is Baraneth and Alistair when Bara dearest returns from finding the Cure. 

(Frankly idek if this is coherent its written on like 3 hours of sleep but shhh go with it) 

Alistair’s foot bounced up and down, more uncontrollably shaking from the knee down in a nervous twitch as he stood on the steps of the royal palace in Denerim. 

If he stared any harder at the wrought iron gates his eyes might just burn out of their sockets; or maybe he’d go blind from overexertion–was that something that could happen? Would the mages be able to fix it? 

It didn’t matter; there was a nervous hush all around the courtyard that felt like a noose strangling around his throat anyway, every adviser and castle staff member waiting with baited breath for the tell tale clip of horseshoes on cobblestone. 

He just wanted to see her again, Maker’s breath he just wanted to see her and hold her in his arms. Make sure she was alright, that his nightmares claiming she was torn from him entirely were false. 

It had been years. Two long years without Baraneth by his side. 

At his hip Ailwife’s old and grey muzzle lifted, his failing ears perking up. Within seconds the creaky old mabari was lurching to his feet, body set a-wiggle by someone or something his human compatriots couldn’t hear. 

As the dog bounded to the gates, dancing back and forth and the holder of his excitement came into view and Alistair felt like doing a little jig right alongside the mabari. Perhaps a little hop, skip, and a heel click for good measure. 

Looking worn out, golden dappled coat darkened with sweat and dirtied with dust, the familiar Ferelden destrier plodded towards the gates. Baraneth was astride, safe and well and Alistair strode towards the gates as soon as they began to open. 

The next few beats were a blur–a hand on the Destrier’s reigns, a hand on her hip to steady her as she slid from the horse’s back, a stable hand grabbing the exhausted horse. Alistair wrapping his exhausted wife in his arms as she sagged against him. 

The world came back to him but it was all Baraneth, the brilliant blue of her eyes, softened by residues of illness and dulled with exhaustion but bright with relief and affection. The familiar curves of her cheeks–sharpened and hollowed by travel–as he stepped back and drew his hands up her neck to cup her cheeks. Maker’s breath the smile she gave him seconds before he leaned forward to kiss her. 

Everything was right, everything was at peace in the way her arms wrapped around his neck, the way her lips fit against his and the way his name fell from them in a soft breath. 

He broke their kiss first, resting their foreheads together, hand curling in her hair to cup her head, afraid that if he broke contact for a moment then she was going to disappear in the next breath. 

“Welcome home.” he whispered, voice thick and eyes burning. 

Baraneth made a muffled sound, squeezing her eyes closed against the tears that spilled down her cheeks. So he pulled her close again, and relished in the way they were like two halves of a whole. 

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tiredassmage

47 and 48 for the Rook questions please!!

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me, realizing only after reblogging that my rook stuff is still in the queue as of this writing and not yet posting, sO. I guess this is also rook reveal time, lol! to the surprise of like, nobody, probably, it's tyr xD

so! anyway! (re)meet my beautiful beloved (fantasy edition), who is a shadow dragon!

47. What's Rook's temper like?

I've raised an unabashed smartass, your honor. 😔 Probably largely thanks to having spent a fair amount of time with the Shadow Dragons prior to Varric and Harding recruiting him for help against Solas, and having largely grown up in Minrathous prior. Rook's a version of Tyr that doesn't have to hide as frequently his opinions on how the system is broken, and what he thinks of right and wrong. I'd still hesitate to call him explosive - he still knows how such appearances might be used against him, but nor does he entirely shy away from leaning into being called Tevinter rabble. His temper is usually a vein of sarcastic venom, and it can get pretty impassioned if he tries the path of reason only to get pushed around more. Tyr's a man whose ideals have always pushed him towards the knife's edge of change and who I'd argue is just as emotional as he is logical.

He's got his patience, but it can be tested, and he's not afraid of pushing back when he's shoved around, especially if he thinks a greater good will suffer in inaction or indifference. Vindictive is not always a side of Tyr that's been shown off in his roles in other interests of mine, but not even he's entirely immune to that siren song. His temper tends to come about because he's stubborn, he very rarely knows how to quit, and he resents a harm committed without remorse - when pride gets in the way and blinds people. If you're trying to justify a harm by saying you've helped somebody, it's generally a very quick way to get him snappish.

48. A color, flower, animal, and weather to describe Rook:

Color: Storm Blue. I'm a sucker for him in darker colors, true. The N7 day gear was admittedly a bit of a lifesaver, but picking for vibes... gotta say storm blue was my first thought.

Flower: White Chrysanthemum. Because I love silly little google searches for symbolism, white chrysanthemums have associations (depending on geographic location) with grief and mourning to honesty and loyalty.

Animal: Is it too easy to say loyalty like a dog again? The Let Dead Dogs Die kind of loyal? The kind of loyal they applaud Mabari hounds for. I'd generally credit Tyr as a sound judge of character more often than not. However, his loyalty will seldom push him against his own ideals, which is perhaps a bit more of a Mule attitude about him. He's a thinker about his loyalty, but, still, once you have it... it's hard to shake him from it. Tyr would be loathe to walk back his loyalty to someone, but if he thinks you're going to only hurt yourself and/or him by sticking around, he... can choose to leave to better serve his ideals. He'll try like hell to get through to you first, but, again, he also rarely has a single bone in him that knows how to quit quietly and meekly. He'll twist himself out of shape and do some incredible things - reckless things, sure - for the people he cares about and won't begrudge them the scars he might earn in his efforts to ensure their happiness and well-being. That part perhaps remains the Mabari in this Tevinter-raised rogue.

Weather: The beginning of a storm - clouds building, the first scents of rain, and thunder rolling in. Fairly common for me when I think of Tyr, admittedly. A type of weather that can involve anticipation or reflection, perhaps a beginning, or perhaps an end. A coming storm is often used as symbolism for troubles or challenges ahead, and sometimes a more optimistic twist is that storms bring change and life-giving water.

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So I REALLY think I might revamp, rewrite, and start posting From the Ashes again because I cannot get it out of my head.

But that’s also a massive undertaking and, not that engagement or numbers matters theoretically, but I don’t know that it’ll be worthwhile to just throw it into the void.

How’re we feeling out there long-fic writing mutuals 🙂‍↕️ how do you persist through the struggles?

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PUT A “∞” IN MY ASK BOX AND I’LL SHUFFLE MY MUSIC PLAYER AND GIVE YOU MY FAVORITE LYRIC FROM THE SONG THAT COMES UP.

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clubsprout

YALL PLEASE DO THIS

✨✨

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Hi hello, still here, still wading through Veilguard so laying low as to not get spoiled for things.

I foresee a great amount of ramblings to come. Mostly about my Origins squad and Tucdela. Rook hasn’t really spoken to me yet, alas.

But boy do I have emotions and feelings about where Baraneth and Ruinel and Tucdela will be.

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captainderyn

Misfire [Shakarian Fic]

Rating: Mature TW: Injury, Mental Health Summary:

Ryn Shepard doesn't want to die. But she's not doing what she should to keep herself alive. To herself, she's a machine of the war, no longer a person.

A mission against Cerberus goes wrong, and Ryn's blood is on Garrus' hands in order to save her.

Or, Ryn struggles hard with what happens on Thessia, Garrus struggles to support her, and Chakwas is pissed off with Shepard's sacrificial attitude.

--

Ryn was exhausted. Her shotgun felt like lead in her arms, her helmet a brutally heavy crown atop her head.

The eight hours she'd slept the previous night did not count; they'd been anything but restful when all she could do was roll from side to side, trying to banish thoughts of Thessia from her mind.

She couldn't.

At this point, sleep was just a formality. She was never going to recover the hours of sleep debt she was in. 

"Shepard, you good?" Garrus' voice rumbled over her inter-helmet comms system and she nodded, taking a needed breath before responding.

"I'm all here, Vakarian." She looked towards him, perched at a vantage point facing their final communications station left to retake. Tali stood on her right, her attack drone pulsing and bobbing beside her.

Ryn added, "Let's get in and out, easy, alright? We can be home by dinner if we're quick."

"Mm, ship rations, my favorite." Garrus chimed in as Tali groaned at the bright, brutally sarcastic optimism Ryn poured into the latter half of her sentence.

Despite the weight that felt like it was pushing her into the ground, Ryn couldn't help a snorting laugh, "Don't worry, you'll get your good food, we're aiming for the Citadel after this."

"It's about damn time." Tali muttered before perking up at movement ahead, "Looks like Cerberus finally decided to show up."

One of the Cerberus troops spun and fell to the ground before they'd cleared the crates that amassed into scattered barricades.

"Heh, scoped and dropped." Garrus hummed over their helmets' comms.

Ryn's mouth quirked up in the barest hints of a grim smile as she focused her biotics around her, shooting off towards the nearest trooper in a storm of energy. She slammed into the soldier, sending them staggering backward. Another pulse of energy dropped the soldier's shields.

She repeated that familiar rhythm, charging and expelling the energy in a brilliant purple nova, bouncing around the battlefield in streaming light.

She could sustain this pattern for long enough to get them through this battle, she insisted with herself. She was far more powerful with her biotics than she was with her guns. Guns could only get her so far when Cerberus had their troops increasingly armored.

Guns needed to reload. Her biotics would last until her brain short circuited and melted out her ears. And if they reached that point in a fight, well, then shit was already so far gone they would have bigger problems to worry about. 

Garrus and Tali's voices carried on in the back of her awareness, calling out warnings to each other as Garrus kept an eye on the troop movements from his higher location.

Ryn zeroed in on a Phantom prowling the battlefield, marking their location just before the soldier's invisibility mechanism clicked on. She hit the Phantom like a freight train, sending them both staggering as her exhaustion waned her raw strength.

Grimacing, she began to pull her biotic energy back around her in an increasingly tight coil, poised to charge again. The amassing light and energy around her sputtered out as the Phantom slammed into her first, pushing her back up against the wall of the communications tower.

She struggled, pulling on that energy again. It fizzled inside of her, her implants screaming like burning knives in her temples at each failure to expend the energy she'd gathered. The Phantom's grip on her was vise-like, forcing her back against the wall.

Her biotics would last until her brain short circuited and melted out of her ears…her head blazed with enough pain that she wondered if she was approaching that point at the speed of light. 

Ryn's teeth snapped together as the Phantom's grip shifted, hammering her head back against the wall behind her. Blood filled her mouth in an iron-tinged deluge and she gagged.

This was a mistake, her struggle doubled. She tried to cry out, choking as the Phantom slammed her back again. Stars filled her vision. 

Images of what had happened to Ashley on Mars flashed through her mind. She was trapped, cornered. Her shotgun was pinned between them; she was as likely to shoot her own head off as she was her assailant’s if she fired.

"Garrus! Tali!" she gasped, hoping her comms system wasn't broken. "Help."

"I can't get...shot...hitting you, Shep..." Garrus' voice was muffled and every other word broke off as the delicate comms systems in her helmet took damage.

Jaw aching with how intensely she clenched her teeth she took all the amassed biotic energy she had left and let it loose, Her vision darkened for a moment, lighting-like shocks running up into her temples.

It bought her a moment.

The Phantom was a Cerberus abomination, moving faster than anything ever should. Before Ryn could so much as roll to the side to put more space between them, her back pressed against the metal wall,  the Phantom's hands were back on her, fumbling with all their strength. Ryn dropped her gun, grappling with the soldier.

She didn't realize the way the Phantom had skewed her until searing pain ripped through her. Ryn grunted, the shock ripped all the air from her lungs. Faltering, her legs went to jello beneath her as her body rebelled against the sudden sharp agony from somewhere she couldn’t identify. 

She’d been punched, hit, shot…stabbed was a new one. And it hurt like a bitch

Focus, focus, focus! She chanted in her head, gasping. She couldn't make out the chatter going through her comms, it was all static now.

She tried to charge again, only to find nothing left to expend. Fuck.

Chest heaving, she partitioned off all the pain raging through her from seemingly everywhere in her body  for later, diving for her gun. She'd have to do with that now.

The Phantom, also heaving for breath now, she realized with some grim satisfaction, caught her, slamming their shoulders together. Ryn careened into the wall with an, "Umph!"

She could make out one word blaring across her comms as she watched the Phantom's helmet explode in red.

Her name.

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captainderyn

Dog Tags [Fic]

Fandom: Mass Effect (ME2)

Pairing: Fledgling-Shakarian/Semi-Romantic carryover from ME1

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Injury

Summary:

Ryn doesn’t know why Garrus has her dog tags. What she does know is that falling back into banter with him in the med bay is easier than breathing and even after death…and being rebuilt…her feelings for Garrus are too complicated for her to parse out.

Locking her in the meeting room had done little to ease Ryn’s stress or calm her anger.

For a moment Ryn had thought that perhaps Miranda had simply closed the door as Jacob frog-marched her inside, to buy themselves a few seconds before Ryn was back to shouting. 

No, she’d quickly found as she’d tugged and hammered on the door, it’d been locked from the outside. 

And EDI wouldn’t unlock it for her. 

So much for being XO of this ship. 

At 29 years old–or, perhaps 31, she still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that she was standing here when she remembered dying–the days of tantrums were decades behind her.

But that was Garrus out there in the medbay, blown to shit from a missile. Garrus, who she’d found when looking for some ‘mysterious figure’ named Archangel. Garrus, who the Illusive Man had said was unreachable. 

If Dr. Chakwas told Ryn that she needed to leave and cool off, then she would’ve. But it was Miranda, in that chilly, above-everyone-else tone who’d told her to calm down. 

Then it was Jacob who had pulled her off Miranda, when Ryn had finally snapped and shoved the Cerberus brat up against the wall, biotics snapping around her as she’d shouted that they had lied to her, making her believe she was alone. Allowed her to find Mordin first when Garrus was cornered and under siege. 

If she’d arrived only a few minutes earlier…

Ryn settled for sending a shockwave firing through the door, even if it didn’t budge the mechanisms that kept it locked. It blew off some steam at least. 

“Joker!” she shouted, voice roughed to a harsh edge from the Omega smog. Nothing. 

She wheeled to the port she knew housed EDI with an accusatory finger already raised, “You’re blocking the input!”

The holographic eye-like sphere blinked to life in soft blue light. It opened and closed like a mouth with each word, “I’m sorry Shepard, the Illusive Man has ordered you to remain here. Mr. Moreau has been blocked from all communication systems and locking systems.”

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