So, bit of ramblings on my Post-Trimax Wolfwood headcanons.
Man, one of my favorite tropes in media is a character who's spirit lingers on after they've died, but it's usually something you only see in fanfic, so I cannot get over how FUCKING FERAL I was when I realized that it was legit a thing in Trimax, and that Wolfwood was the one we actually got to see, legitimately talking to the people he'd left behind and confirming that ghosts in the canon weren't just hallucinations or something! Like yeah, we saw Tessla leading the boys to her body, but since her ghost was never mentioned again, it could have easily have been written off as a fluke, right?
NOPE. They are real and they linger after to watch over the people they care about or to send messages to the people who are still alive! And the fact that the character who had just wormed his way into being just as beloved to me as my favorite character (Which NEVER happens, I usually only have enough brain cells for one at a time!) and that we had just had our hearts ripped to shreds watching him die was also the one we got to know had definitely stayed behind to watch over the people he loved just makes me SO HAPPY! I rp that asshole from time to time, and I just love exploring the implications of it!
I play him like he's been there a LONG TIME. When he died, Rem was there, watching over Vash, but when Knives spent the last of his energy, she chose to move on with him, now that she knew Wolfwood would be there to keep watch over Vash, and he took it SERIOUSLY. He's been waiting so long, he's lost his sense of time, he thinks it's only been a couple decades when it's been CENTURIES. And the time has softened his own trauma, he's gone from being surly and angry and defensive to being at peace and finding comfort in the fact that its allowed him to see more of Vash's life than he ever would have been able to live long enough to see when he was alive. And it's given him time to notice just how unwell Vash is, how broken he is, watching over him when he thinks he's alone and lets himself break down.
But it's also made Wolfwood a bit unwell in his own way; as time went on and the people he knew in life began to pass away, too, his interest in paying attention to what the people around them were doing wained, and his dedication to watching over Vash until it was his time to pass on became a strange sort of dependence. He loses his sense of self, in a way, until the most important thing in his existence is being there for Vash, waiting for him, having long-since accepted that when the time comes, it'll be over and he's alright with that.
He's happy, but to the perspective of a living person, it would seem TWISTED in a way. He still thinks he's a damned soul, stealing more time than he's allowed and only damning himself further by doing so, and he just knows that when he gets to walk Vash into whatever comes after for them, they'll be separated again, for the last time, and there won't be any coming back from it that time, because Vash is too good, too kind, too HOLY to ever be damned. But it's fine. Wolfwood knew he was damned long before his death, and time has just given him the chance to make peace with it and simply be happy with the fact that at least he'll be able to be with Vash when he can move on to wherever good people go at the end. And yet when it happens, Vash feels the same way about himself, so certain that he's the one who's damned, and their reunion is wonderful and painful and terrifying for both of them in different ways.
He's even worse with interacting with people, once he's forced to interact with the living. I play Wolfwood in a game where he stumbles into revealing himself after spending centuries never letting himself be seen, and he worries that going "silent" again will upset people. He's spent centuries being a silent shadow, certain that letting Vash know he was there would only cause more suffering for an already unwell mind, so he's forgotten how to interact with tact, blurting out whatever pops into his head because he's only had himself to talk to for all that time. He hurts people without meaning to, begins to suffer from the crisis of worrying that no matter what he does, he's a burden to the people who mourn him, he doesn't belong, his existence is nothing but a constant reminder of what's coming and will only cause the people around him pain. He's both able to be the kind, caring, loving person he might have been if the Eye of Michael had never taken him from the orphanage, and also a HUGE, ANXIOUS WRECK.
And the thing that makes it all worse for him is the fact that when he was dumped into the game I have him in, he was separated from the Vash of his timeline, and now lives in constant fear that he'll never see him again, that he won't be there when he passes on and there won't be anyone to greet him on the other side, alone and never knowing that he was waiting for him. He made a promise to Rem that he'd watch over him for her, that he'd lead him to his final destination where he could be with his family again, and now that he's lost that, what purpose does he have? He's terrified to let go himself, worried he'll pass onto the other side when Vash was right around the corner, but the thought of lingering without finding him again, missing his chance to be there for him when it's his turn, leaves him in an almost constant state of almost-panic.
I also just think it's kind of sweetly poetic, if in the end, he chose to continue the role he'd been forced into; take Vash where he's supposed to be. Only this time, it's his choice, and it won't be to his death. He wants to guide him to where he knows people are waiting for him, where he'll finally be happy and be at peace. He doesn't mind the fact that he's going to Hell, so long as he was able to be the one that leads Vash to the place where he won't have to be in pain ever again.
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You mentioned slugging Darmas (with enthusiasm!) on Tyr's playthrough as a post-Imp smuggler. Given that Darmas was part of Imperial Intelligence like Tyr, how did that whole dynamic between Tyr, the smuggler he worked for, and Darmas work?
This is DELICIOUS, thank you so, so much for finally giving me the nudge to go off about this on main, lol.
This is truly part of what made the Imperial Agent to Smuggler pipeline hit me like a speeding semi-truck on the interstate highway, for real. It was an incredibly cathartic experience, lol.
I'm still rotating an idea or two or three about the exact specifics because each of them have their own merits, but the universal beat is Cee lets Tyr make the choice here; Darmas and Dodonna used them both, ultimately, but she gets that it's far more personal for Tyr given his history with Intelligence.
(Also, I'd like to shake Bioware by the shoulders. Give me a consistent timeline on Intelligence challenge! Its in the process of being cut at the knees according to the Agent's trip to Corellia!!! But that's... for another time, lol).
There'd definitely be something very crunchy about keeping a lid on Tyr's history as an ex-Cipher for Darmas to let the cat out of the bag as a part of the bit to throw the Smuggler off, but since I've started to develop Cee as his Captain for want of a consistent trail of events to follow and they ultimately end up catching feelings for each other... and also partially because Dorne's deal with her defection during her companion quest series is also one of my favorites, I've been leaning towards it coming up beforehand - though, again, I haven't quite hammered out specifically how or when.
Being manipulated and sort of falling into things by circumstance is something Cee and him ultimately share experience in, so it's kind of important to me and to them that they're able to share that on their terms - or as much of their own terms as possible. It's still more by accident and situationally that his history comes up at all - I imagine its not even something the SIS readily passes around as part of operational security, but as of the moment, I imagine Tyr just figures it's easier (and better) to explain it himself rather than let her try to piece it together from whatever opinionated tales begin to unravel it in the first place. (She'd figure it out either way and he'd prefer someone he cares about not feel lied to, y'know?)
He comes to respect Cee a great deal rather quickly because she's trying her best to hold her own ground in the midst of... everything she's kinda stumbled into from the reputation chasing down Nok Drayen's treasure to a deal with the Republic, so it's quite important to him that he maintains open communication with her.
But, yes, Darmas, whether he recognizes the ex-Cipher or not, is an incredibly personal encounter for Tyr. While he's not Cipher Nine in this particular tale, his reasons for leaving Imperial Intelligence and the Empire behind are largely consistent with those he chooses as Nine: he's not interested in being a statistic, the battered instrument and disposable cog in some Sith's machinery. And beneath under all of that calculation, beneath the facade of realism tempered by an agent's experience and training, ideals are important to Tyr and they always have been, even if he hasn't exactly realized it. To find out he traded the Empire for the Republic (that was meant to be an improvement on the ideals front) and still fell into those trappings, that he was so close to the problem and didn't even see any warning signs, that this threatened the very real unexpected found family and belonging he found in Cee and the crew... It's a lot. And he knows Darmas's type too well to trust that the snake wouldn't slip away given half the chance.
I imagine he does take a swing first, emotions getting the better of him for a moment, at least, before he deferred to Cee's judgement. She was the one they really sent after the pair, after all. But, in the end, Cee left the decision up to him, so Darmas got no deals that day. xD Just a very angry swinging SIS operative and ultimately a blaster bolt to that pretty face of his.
For Cee's part, she was never particularly interested in Darmas's charms from the beginning, though I imagine she trusted him enough as an ally by the time this all comes out. Her main wound in all of this is having found out the opportunity to genuinely work for the greater good for once was all an orchestration to actually serve the enemy. In broad strokes, Cee ended up smuggling in an attempt to pay off inherited debts from her father, so very little of being a starship captain smuggling goods had ever been her choice, let alone her ideal choice. She's not particularly pleased that her wariness of the offer to privateer in the first place was perhaps not entirely misplaced given the company, but she doesn't hesitate to take the offer again from Sumalee. She's far more confident in the authenticity of the arrangement and its truly what she'd generally prefer to put her acquired talents to use for.
Truly though. This gave being able to clock Saresh a run for credits as far as satisfying decisions, lol! It's very important to me and my cause (this au) xD
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Simon forgets how strong he is
18+ MDNI - cw: bruising - ~700 words
just some Simon Riley NSFW brainrot ♥︎ - part 2-ish, and part 3-ish here!!
Simon forgets how to be gentle.
When he's at war, fighting and shooting and killing day and night, all he knows is hardness. Brutality. Ruthlessness. His hands and heart grow calloused and rough in his months away from you. Using his unfathomable strength to survive is what he grows used to, it becomes second nature.
But it's your softness he remembers, to keep himself sane. It's all he thinks about. Dreams of.
The way the flesh of your hips, your ass, your breasts, your belly, pillows so deliciously between his fingers when he squeezes his handful - so warm, so supple. The way your vanilla-balmed lips graze his scarred skin so tenderly, however undeserved your sweetness is.
And when he finally returns home, after months of missing, craving you - when you stand in the door, honey thighs bare by virtue of the black panties you wore just to torture him, soft tummy peeking out from under your crop-top - he just can't restrain himself.
You greet him with your sugary smile, stretching up on your toes to curl your loving arms around his neck - your gentle voice, music; "Si, ah! I'm so glad you're okay…"
The moment your velvet skin touches his, his shackles crumble. Like a beast starved, he clutches you. Mammoth arms curl around you, constricting, gripping you eagerly like you might be a dream; liable to turn to a memory, to smoke.
His avaricious embrace lifts your feet from the ground, though he doesn't mean to - he burrows his nose and mouth into the crook of your neck, lets the curls of your hair smother him and fill his chest with the faint scent of your fruity shampoo. Fights every urge to take a bite, like you're a ripe nectarine.
Growls into your skin, through his jaw; "I fuckin' missed you, love. Christ, you have no idea how much I missed you."
"I missed you too, baby…" you coo into his ear, even your breathing is tender - he can't take it.
So he ferries you immediately to the sitting room, scoops you up like you weigh nothing, lets you coil your buttery thighs around his waist as he sits you on his lap on the sofa.
His wide hands take their greedy handfuls of your body - of your waist, of your hips, of your thighs, of your ass. Finally indulging the impulses he had dreamed about for so long - the very image he had fucked his fist to more times than he could count while parted from you.
With his teeth on your shoulder, tongue laving your warm skin; "So fuckin' soft," he grumbles deeply, and urges, "pretty thing. So soft. Fuck, I missed you."
His cock is hasty to grow boulder-solid under his trousers, and he chastises himself - but you answer with a cloying giggle, grinding your mound against its rigidity as if to torment him.
"Mm, you did miss me," you tease, little brat.
Then in an instant, all he can think about is the softness of your syrupy pussy, the gumminess of the inside of your cunt as its walls caress and milk his cock like it was built just to fit him.
You make him fucking ravenous, so voraciously eager to have you that he doesn't even notice his hands turn to vices around your flesh - fingers burrowing so deeply into the cheek of your ass that he might break through the skin.
"Ah!" You yelp, "Ow - Simon - you're hurting me-"
Your squeak of pain is enough to immediately shatter him - so he rapidly lifts you off of him, protecting you from his impulse. Stands you on your feet so that you're no longer victim to his inability to control himself.
"Shit, I'm sorry-" he grunts under his breath, "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, it's-" Your brows curl in worry, turning to look at where he had clawed you - and he sees the purple bruises where his hand had wrenched the flesh of your ass, the red lines where his fingernails had nearly punctured you. "Oh," you breathe at the sight, "…wow."
Drowning in visceral shame, he can barely bring himself to touch you again. But your soft hand caresses his hair, running through the sandy tresses - you, somehow, the one to comfort him.
"It's okay, baby, I know you didn't mean to," you purr fondly, and he leans forward to shamefully press as soft a kiss as he can into the bruise he gave you. Fucking monster.
"I'm sorry," he croaks into your skin, hoping his guilt will reverse his barbarity. "I just missed you."
"I know," you croon, turning to plant a loving kiss into his hair. "It's okay."
You guide him to lean back, mounting his lap again, letting your pelvis grind against the erection you were quick to reawaken.
His hands barely ghosting over your skin, he restrains himself, touches you carefully.
You whisper, into his stubbled cheek; "I'll show you how to be gentle again."
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