I wish that, instead of reacting angrily or feeling attacked by the love many women feel for Love and Deepspace, some men would adopt a more open attitude and use the lessons this game offers to improve the way they treat their partners and women in general.
Love and Deepspace is designed to make us feel loved and to convey what love should feel like. For me (and I know for many others), it has taught me to understand what I truly desire in a relationship and how I want to be treated. Love interests are designed to make us feel valued, prioritized, and deeply loved. They are attentive, respectful, and caring, showing their love without coercion or demands, putting us first, and the evolution of the relationship and its intimacy is built on trust and mutual respect.
Even mechanics like the menstrual cycle representation, which has been criticized so much, are a reflection of the care and empathy that should exist in a healthy relationship. Understanding your partner's stage of the cycle not only allows you to support them more sensitively, but also to show meaningful support during phases like the luteal phase or menstruation itself.
This game isn't about sex or pornography, as many people think, but about love, respect, and genuine affection. It teaches us what true love feels like, what a healthy relationship should be like, and what it means to be authentically loved. There's nothing wrong with this, nor should those of us who enjoy this experience feel ashamed.
not going to lie to yâall the nastiest sex ever with that fictional man would cure me right now. the wall cracks the room stinks of sex iâm sweating heâs sweating weâve lost count of how many times weâve fucked. that would make me well
âyour truest self will forever be etched into the fabric of my soulâ
âyou are my unforgivable sin in the fabric of eternity, the very thing that imprisoned meâ
âhow can I witness and hold such beauty once more...?â
âif I were to bury my heart within your sweet lips"
âthere is no love purer than mineâ
âif you were also an art piece, then whoever created you must have loved you dearlyâ
sylus is never escaping the biggest loverboy allegations. this man has never be afraid to look us in the eye and express his deep love
i couldnât stop crying last night because itâs so beautiful to see how his reactions. itâs never subtle, he doesnât hide his feelings, we are the love of his life and heâll be damned after all this waiting
thinking about Sylus's dragon form. about how he has claws and horns and scales, about how he's armored and deadly, but his heart, his most vital organ, is left vulnerable. and if that isn't the perfect summary of him... he's never tried to protect his heart, not from MC at least. he's left it out there in the open from the beginning.
"You know, Tarus City can have flowers bloom everywhere, as far as the eye can see. But only for one person."
"How can I witness and hold such beauty once more...? If I were to bury my heart within your sweet lipsâŚâ
"If you were also an art piece, then whoever created you... must have loved you dearly"
âYou are my unforgivable sin in the fabric of eternity, the very thing that has imprisoned me.â
âYour truest self will forever be etched into the fabric of my soul.â
âAnd you happen to be the only element that can ignite my passionâ
"You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine"
"Shivanika, Shivanika, Shivanika"
One of my favorite things about Sylus is his habit of casually and out of thin air drop the most beautiful romantic lines you've ever heard. Stating them like facts. Because to him they are. In his eyes MC is the most gorgeous and invaluable masterpiece in existence â his "Purus Opalus" â and he will say it. Time and time again without hesitation.
i am actually going to cry right now. this card is so beautiful, itâs all sylus and us (even if we donât remember) ever wanted to be in the comfort of our home and just love each other
summary: the aftermath of what happened in skyhaven with pre-relationship sylus. hurt/comfort, exploring mcâs trauma.
A simultaneous sigh blooms from both of your lungs as the last wanderer crumbles into oblivion. The dust of its essence floated up to the polluted night sky of the N109 zone, painting artificial stars for the pair of victors below. Sylus lifts his gaze to you after he scrapes whatâs left of the aftermath from his fingernails. He looks infuriatingly unaffected. You, howeverâŚ
âYou look like shit.â He remarks playfully, his eyes softening as he holds out his hand to help you up. You, like he anticipates, softly slap it away and get up on wobbly legs. âFuck off.â You retort, still trying to catch your breath, and he simply smiles- striding next to you and subtly offering you his weight to lean on. You tried stubbornly standing on your own, but found yourself surrendering to his quiet help as you walked back to his bike.
âIâm not letting you ride back to Linkon like this.â He huffed, handing you his spare helmet, the one that is practically yours at this point. âSpend the night at the base.â Coming from him, it sounded more of a purring command than a gentle suggestion. âGet some beauty sleep.â
You had felt your muscles tense and your heart clenched as you were rapidly reminded of the last time you stayed over someone elseâs place. The sound of doors locking, the pills, the confusion, the breathing man that you still mourned. Before you could refuse, though, a traitorous yawn escaped your throat. You knew he was right, that you were in no shape to travel home, and itâs not like he could exactly traipse into Linkon at the moment to accompany you. Besides, youâve been fighting alongside him for a while now, and while he has little weaknesses, youâre willing to exploit them if need be. âAlright.â You breathe your surrender as you put the helmet on, bracing yourself for his driving skills.
Luke and Kieran greet you at the door like eager puppies. What happened, boss? Boss lady? Did ya kill something? How many? How bloody? Any guts?
Sylus held out a commanding hand and answered for you, thankfully. âDonât ambush the poor girl, sheâs beat up.â
You rolled your eyes at that. âIâm not beat up-â
âCome.â He holds his arm out for you, and you defeatedly take it, blindly following wherever he deigns to go.
âMy headâŚâ You groaned at the harsh overhead kitchen light being flicked on, rubbing your temples. âDoes the big bad mob boss happen to have ibuprofen?â
âIâm not headache proof, believe it or not.â He exhaled a small chuckle. âSit down.â He ushered you to the sofa across from the kitchen table. You obliged, but not because he told you to, of course. You were achey, dirty and exhausted. He held a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the other, and you hesitated slightly as you let him give them to you. Turning the pills over in your fingers with a squint of your eyes, you looked for the label etched into the chalky red circles to identify that it was, in fact, ibuprofen.
Sylus noticed. Of course he noticed, he always does. âWhat?â He tilts his head, confused, but his tone still holds a hint of safe and familiar teasing. âYou think Iâm slipping you something?â
Swallowing back those nagging memories again along with the medicine, you force a chuckle. âCan never be sure with a lawless scoundrel like you, can I?â
He grinned, one of those rare smiles of his, toothy and reaching for his ruby eyes. âI may be a lawless scoundrel, sweetheart, but Iâm not a monster.â
Not a monster, because a monster would do that.
Your best friend in the whole world would do that.
A deep breath left you, ready to be rid of this conversation topic. âCan I take a shower?â
His wide grin melted down to his signature smug smirk once again. âIn which wing?â
Sylusâs living situation was fucking ridiculous. Four bathrooms with showers, three of them with tubs. For, what, three people? You shake your head in disbelief as he leads you to a guest room. Just as lavish as the rest of the place, the first thing that stares back at you is the neatly made king sized bed. A leather futon sits across it, right next to an enormous closet. Before you can gawk at any other evidence of luxury in the room, he shuts the door behind you. Your gaze instinctively flies to the knob, the phantom click still ringing in your ears. Your shoulders hunch, posture stilling as you find yourself waiting for itâ but the door remains unlocked. If Sylus noticed, he gave you the grace of ignoring it and deciding he teased you enough for now. He opens the closet, unhooking a hanger from inside, draping a plush back bathrobe from it. âThis should fit you.â You ran your hands along the fluffy material, unable to stop touching it. âAnd could I wash my clothes after-â
âI will.â He assures you with an interruption. âLeave them outside the door. Iâll find something laying around for you to change into so you donât have to wait for them to dry.â You nodded, not expecting this level of consideration from him. It brings an irritating, fond heat to your cheeks. âRight. Thank you.â
âJust being a good host.â He smirks, opening the bathroom door. The bathroom was, of course, also fucking ridiculous. Dark marble walls, spotless black tile floors. A black Japanese bathtub next to the spacious shower stall. Woody, spicy potpourri wafted through the air from a bowl on the sink. He moves to shut the door, and you turn. âUmâŚâ Swallow. âIs it okay to keep the door unlocked?â He frowned in confusion, and you quickly added, âItâs the steam. Too much in an enclosed space, I get a headache and I already have one, so I-â
âOkay.â He simply agrees, leaving you no room to over-explain and lie further. Youâre almost taken aback with the ease heâs treating you with, but if you think about it, heâs always just accepted. He may question once or twice, but always nods his head without judgment.
You showered all of the blood and grime off your skin, but the reminder of Skyhaven clung under your fingernails no matter how much you scrubbed. It was something you had been pushing away from the forefront of your mind for weeks, almost a month now.
Itâs not what you think it is, you remind yourself as you clench your fist, watching the hot water droplets roll off your knuckles. Itâs Caleb. He was trying to protect meâŚ
âNo, weâre not doing this right now!â You mumbled aloud to yourself. Think, think, think of something else. You abruptly turned the valve to the wall, the water turning freezing cold. Your breathing seemed to slow down with the ice hitting your veins, and by the time you caught two chills, you stepped out and toweled off. The robe felt nice against your damp skin, the fuzz of it all absorbing the water droplets quickly. Opening the door, you see the clothes Sylus left for you in a neat pile: two items. A black satin button down with an âSâ monogrammed into the breast pocket with golden embroidery, and grey basketball shorts. A dry snort found its way out of your nose. What a look.
You swam in them, of course, but in a cozy way. You folded the waistband of the shorts until they would aptly rest on your hips, and you didnât mind the way the shirtâs sleeves hung past your fingers. The shirt smelled like him. Like his stupidly nice cologne, the familiar scent of spices and leather on the collar.
You let your exhausted body drive you to sleep.
The door is locked.
The eyes you used to seek comfort in refuse to soften.
You blindly take his sleeping pills.
The door is locked.
He pins you down on the sofa, next to a photo of the two of you in a frighteningly similar position, play-fighting and laughing.
He threatens to wrap a collar around your throat.
Your pleas fall on deaf ears.
The man in front of you is breathing, but he is long dead.
The door is locked.
Your heart drops you awake, out of breath and eyes watery.
You are not in your bed.
Where are you?
You push the covers off you before you could even remember, rushing to swing the door open. The force of the mahogany hitting the wall got the attention of your gracious host.
âSweetieâŚâ A deep voice rumbled up your spine. Sylus.
Youâre with Sylus.
The pet name lacked all the familiar playful condescension, more of a brace, a concerned approach to a wild, wounded animal. âWhatâs wrong?â
You donât answer at first, your clouded mind still assessing the situation. Your shoulders relax a fraction as you register your surroundings, Sylusâs base. You spent the night here after a hunt. Youâre with Sylus, you want to be here, and the door was unlocked. Your grip on the doorknob loosens. Sylus slowly comes out from behind you and into your field of vision. âSit.â He ushers you back into the room, sitting on the bed and patting the silk sheets. You slowly obey, perching on the bed with your knees hugged to your chest. A gentle expression paints his face, something you couldâve sworn youâve never seen before. âIâm going to ask again.â He urges softly, slowly, the brisk command his tone usually carried melted away.
You can lie to anyone in your life. You could have said it was a bug in your blankets. A noise, he thought of an intruder. Even a nightmare about something else. You can lie to anyone in your life, except for the man in front of you who looks worried for the first time youâve seen it. You can lie to anyone in your life, except for the man who seems to know your very soul despite only knowing you for a handful of months.
You donât even try, clenching your fists so tight youâre sure your fingernails would draw blood out of the meat of your palm.
âI canât tell youâŚâ You murmured, holding back the flood. âBecause if I do, it becomes real.â
He frowned, his head tilting to the side slightly. He pushed a soft smile out of the corner of his mouth. âI wonât tell reality if you wonât, sweetheart.â
You exhaled out of your nose shortly, an amused puff of air followed by a sniffle. âNo, IâmâŚitâs serious.â
âI know.â He sat back on his elbows, blanketing the atmosphere with a sense of leisure and ease. That was something you had to admit he was good at. âIâve noticed.â
You turn to him. âWhat?â
âYou checked the pills I gave you.â He started. âI thought that was a one off, maybe you being extra careful, but then you announced you were gonna shower with the door unlocked-â
You scoffed shakily. âOkay, I didnât announce-â
âThe point isâŚâ He interrupted. âYouâve beenâŚoff tonight.â
You donât know how to answer. You know that at this point, if you open your mouth, the tears will start free falling.
âYou donât have to explain.â Fuck him for always reading your mind. âBut you just need to tell me youâre alright. No guest feels unsafe under this roof.â
âItâs not you.â You assure shakily, resting your chin on your knees. âItâsâŚa long story.â
He nodded, accepting again. âI donât have anywhere to be.â
âUmâŚâ You suck in a breath through your nose. Here we go. The tube of toothpaste is squeezed. Your voice is slow, measured as you continue. âRemember about three weeks ago I went to Skyhaven?â
You began to unload. From the top. He knew of the explosion, the one you wrongfully blamed him for. The reminder of that moment brings a flash of mortified heat to your cheeks, expecting him to bring it up. You pause for it, the tease, the coy âYes, kitten, Iâm so bad,â but it doesnât come. His eyes just pave a delicate path down your face, waiting for you to continue. You watch them widen slightly when you tell him your childhood best friend survived, and that you found him up there. Your words shake and choke in your throat when you get to the next part, tears pricking the back of your eyes. You squeeze them shut, and feel a feather-light weight on your hand; his covering yours. A soft affirmation, a silent Iâve got you. The action is so tender, it pushes even more tears to your waterline. You purse your trembling lips at the gentleness of it all, the opposite of the force you two exuded over one another when you first met. You shoot him point blank in the chest, and he holds your hand like itâs precious gold.
âSweetieâŚâ He looks at you as if the sight of your face twisted in tears makes him violently ache. âDonât cry.â
Which of course, makes you cry more. He closes the distance between you within a second, pulling you into his side. âIâm trying not to.â
âI know, sweetheart, I know.â He whispers gently, rubbing his thumb over your bare shoulder, the collar of his shirt hanging off of you. âItâs okay. Take your time.â
It takes a few minutes to gather the words, because how exactly do you say, I think my best friend held me hostage in his home and slipped me pills but I think itâs not really him based on zero evidence?
His thumb stopped its soothing rhythm. âHe what?â
You cringe and stammer. You feel caught, for some irrational reason. âI-I know what it sounds like, but-â
âNo.â He shook his head, his tone still soft but firm. âNo, you donât have to protect him.â He has to bite back the snarl in his voice, fight to keep his words gentle. âNot after he does thisâŚâ He wipes a tear from your cheek, his fingers lingering on the skin for a moment. âNot after he does this to you.â His voice shakes alongside yours, for different reasons. âYou donât need to tell me anything more, but you donât protect him, either.â
You look up at him, drawing in a deep breath. It makes you realize thatâs exactly what youâve been doing all this time, refusing to acknowledge it. While he was ruining you, you were protecting his memory. At the same time, though, what you know about the professor and Calebâs abnormal behavior flipping like a switch makes you doubt it was fully him that did this to you. Even if it wasnât, it doesnât mean it didnât affect you so deeply that youâre crying into the arms of the person youâd least expect. You watch his fists clench. âHe didnâtâŚâ A hesitation. âHe didnât touch you, did he?â
You vehemently shake your head and you could hear a small breath of relief. âIt wasnât like that.â You go to explain again, to defend him, but stop yourself. âIt was so scary.â He breathes a deep sigh, tightening his arms around you.
âI know.â He whispers. âI know, sweet girl, but you were brave.â
You scoff tearfully. âNo I wasnât.â
âYouâre here.â He pointed out, brushing his hand through your hair. âNot there. I know your prowess firsthand.â
A pathetic half-laugh exits your chest, followed by more sobs. He holds you even tighter as you cling to his grounding familiarity. He does that for as long as you need it, waiting patiently as he assures you you did the right thing, that youâre safe with him, that he could walk into Linkon and take you home right now, bounty be damned; whatever it is you need to hear.
âIâve got you.â He whispers into your hair. Your head is atop his chest, laying down now. Your eyes are closed, and he can tell youâve cried yourself to sleep. âAlways have. Always will.â
When your breaths turn steady, he moves slightly to get his phone from his pocket. One hand on your back, the other on the keyboard, he types a message to Luke and Kieran.
Farspace Fleet Colonel. Lives in Skyhaven. Nameâs caleb. Need any and all information there is to know ASAP.
Another message.
Boss Lady will not let you hurt him, as much as I am dreaming the different ways I could make him hurt right now. Do not go after him. Just watch.
Two pairs of thumbs up from the twins follow the message, not needing any further instruction or explanation. He locks his phone and leans his head against the pillow, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. Itâs quiet now, the only sound surrounding him are your soft breaths and Mephistoâs caws into the night as he suddenly takes a trip up north.
this sylus drought is highkey killing me. on one hand i have been able to farm for diamonds in preparation for his birthday to almost at least be guaranteed but on the other hand, his missing content plagues my mind
the simple fact that we are missing about 12 levels of affinity haunts me. im trying so hard to reach heatwaves to listen to it for the first time but itâs so difficult
im praying they release his branch, anecdote or even a bond because i miss this man
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