Things I'd really like to see in Love and Deepspace.
1. More games to play with the Lads men.
While I love the Claw machine and kitty cards, they've become very repetitive. I'm tired of always having to do the exact same thing for the exact same rewards every week. I suggest adding in randomized games. Think of the amusement park games that you can play for all those weird prizes. I wouldn't mind if they made the prizes plushies but please... I need variety.
2. The ability to pose the men in the photobooth.
I love taking pictures with them but having to basically glitch out some of the poses to get the picture I want is a little tiresome. Of course I understand if this one isn't something they'd implement but I would love to see it in the game. Being able to pose them by manually moving their limbs could also be VERY overwhelming to many... I might accidentally break something.
3. Voice interactions!
I'm pretty sure this is a thing that they have on the China servers but being about to have a verbal conversation with them. Like you say something and they respond. That sounds very Ai and I don't like that... It would be a set number of response to a question or statement. Pre-programed and not AI. I hate AI.
4. Valko!
I miss him... please Infold. Please bring him back safe and sound.
Anyway that's all I have for right now. I'll add to this whenever the ideas strike me. Have a good day!
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This isn't a diss per se, I was surprised. Cause God of war theming seems to suit....well any of the other guys more than Raf. He never had much warrior stuff going on, more assasin/divine strength. I assume there is a context I'm missing here so raf girlies if you could fill me in I'd appreciate it! 🫶
I'm a little excited to see how this ties in to his overall myth cycle, cause Raf so far has one of the most cohesive myth plots, just in terms of flow and theming. This one isn't obviously "lemurian" themed, more of a deity theme in general, so seeing how their core memories and bond influence it will be interesting!
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I was wondering what the new combat mechanic would be. We're in for a lot of claymore myths this round (which I'm excited for personally, big sword fun times), so the idea of taking over the LI gameplay to have access to their abilities/weapons sounds fun!
thinking about spending an afternoon where everything feels wrong curled up in sylus's lap.
everything is grating on your nerves today for reasons you're unsure of. sounds, ideas, sights, even your plain thoughts alone feel like they're rubbing you the wrong way. you want to rip your hair out to stop feeling it against your neck.
but you have a rock to lean on, your little cheat code for times like this when the world seems intent on bothering you. sylus. when everything is off kilter, sylus is upright. he's the one thing that can soothe you, his presence like a balm on your frayed nerves.
all you need to do is approach him, and he'll know exactly what you need. you look rattled, uncomfortable in your own skin, antsy and restless. he opens his posture, wordlessly inviting you to join him in his plush chair, and you do.
you curl up in a ball in his lap, making yourself as small as possible against his large frame as you bury your face in his chest. you try whatever comes to mind in order to block everything out except for him. you take a deep inhale of his scent, clearing anything else that may have stuck to the back of your throat throughout the day. you focus on his warmth against your cheek, the beat of his heart beneath his shirt, the breath in his lungs, the quiet care he always gives you so readily.
he puts his phone aside and pulls you closer, neatly drawing your favorite blanket over your form and up to your shoulders, taking the time to make sure you're covered evenly. he then rests a hand on top of your back, slowly rubbing circles into the fabric there. his palm is heavy and his movements are sure, steadying you with their consistent pattern. even without looking up, you can feel his gaze, overflowing with adoration.
even if neither of you say a word, sylus doesn't mind staying with you in the quiet for as long as you need. he enjoys your company alone, feeling you breathe against him, your little heartbeat beneath his fingertips slowing down, the furrow in your brow fading, your fingers once curled tightly into his shirt beginning to loosen. he savors any opportunity he has to hold you close like this; knowing that you're safe, content, cared for.
it doesn't take long for your unease to fade once the only thing occupying your senses is sylus. being by his side just feels right in a way you can't fully describe, something deep in your chest knowing that this is where you're meant to be. and you can tell he feels the same, the lines of stress previously etched into his expression quickly dissipating. you're home, and so is he.
Playing MysMe again cause why not and I'm always so amused by how....willing....MC has to be at the start of the game. Like oh yeah let's totally break into this random apartment what could go wrong? Oh yeah this random app developer for something I didnt download needs me to beta test something in a remote mansion in the middle of the woods? Sign me up!
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“I still can't believe that you managed to lose your voice too,” you comment, pressing a soft peck to Zayne's burning forehead as you wrap the duvet tighter around your tangled bodies. You frown upon realising that his temperature hasn't faltered since you last checked it, hoping the medicine he's taken will take effect soon.
“I love you, you know that, right?” he whispers fondly, his voice barely audible over the dulcet pitter-patter of the rain falling outside your window. His eyes are soft at the edges as he peers at you, the area around his nose tinted a bright red from the number of times he's abused it with the tissues that now lay in a pile next to him. Yet, even in this disheveled state, you almost want to groan at how beautiful Zayne looks.
As if saying it once isn't enough, Zayne's hands reach under the duvet aimlessly until they find yours, interlocking your fingers together as he brings them up to his lips. He presses a delicate kiss to each of your knuckles before mumbling, “I love you so, so much.”
The sensation of his lips brushing against your fingers sends jolts through your chest, your heart warming at how gentle he is with you even after all this time.
“I love you too, but please stop talking because it's not going to make your voice any better,” you scold, taking notice of the growing scratchiness evident in his voice. The irony of having to lecture a doctor about taking care of himself isn't lost on you, but Zayne doesn't seem particularly inclined to listen.
“If you think me losing my voice is somehow going to stop me from saying how much I love you, you're wrong.”
The convenience store was almost empty at this hour, its fluorescent lights humming steadily above the plastic stools. Outside, the parking lot sat quiet behind the fogged window, the occasional car passing without slowing.
You had barely touched your noodles.
Xavier, on the other hand, had one hand on the cup, and the other on the chopsticks. He glanced at his phone between bites, completely unaware that you had spent the last few minutes smiling and staring at him instead of your dinner.
Eventually, he looked up.
“What?”
You shook your head, still smiling.
His eyes narrowed slightly, unconvinced, but he returned to his noodles. A few seconds later, you noticed the streak of broth near his chin.
“You’ve got something there.”
He wiped at it without looking, somehow managing to miss the spot completely. You sighed, reached across the small table, and took the napkin from beside his cup. His jaw went still under your fingers for half a second. Before he could react, you wiped the broth away and pulled your hand back.
He paused with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, looking at you with an expression that was difficult to read, like his brain had briefly stopped processing the situation and hadn’t caught up yet.
You went back to your noodles with the same smile as you kept your eyes on him.
After a moment, he touched his chin, then glanced at you again.
“What is it this time?”
You shrugged. “Nothing.”
“That’s not convincing.”
“You looked better before you started worrying about it.”
He stared for a second, clearly trying to decide whether that was supposed to mean something.
Then you added, “Besides, there was something handsome on your face.”
Xavier looked down at his noodles, the tips of his ears betrayed him first, going red before he could get a single word out. He grabbed his cup noodles and shoved a mouthful in like it would stop his face from doing whatever it was doing, chewing fast, refusing to look at your still smiling face.
For the rest of dinner, he became strangely interested in making sure he didn’t spill anything on himself.
𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄
The cheesecake sat between you, already missing a few bites despite Zayne’s earlier claim that he was too busy to eat. He’d somehow managed to keep working through half of it anyway, the fork resting beside the plate whenever he returned to the patient report on his laptop.
You sat in the chair beside him, chin propped on your hand, just staring.
At first, he didn’t seem to notice. His attention stayed on the screen, fingers moving steadily across the keyboard. You picked up the fork, cut off another small piece of cheesecake, and held it toward him.
Without looking away from the laptop, he leaned over and took the bite.
“Thanks.”
You smiled.
A few lines later, his typing slowed.
His eyes shifted toward you briefly before returning to the report. You were still watching him.
He tried to ignore it. That lasted perhaps another minute before he glanced over again, this time catching you mid-smile.
“You’ve been doing that for a while.”
“Doing what?”
He gave you a look, then turned back to the screen. “Looking at me.”
You shrugged, completely unbothered.
His fingers resumed moving, though the rhythm had changed. He made it through another paragraph before reaching for the cheesecake without thinking. You moved the plate slightly closer before he could.
He took another bite, swallowed, and finally looked at you properly.
“Is there something you want?”
“No.”
That answer seemed to bother him more than it should have. He studied you for a moment, as if there had to be some explanation for why you’d been sitting there watching him work with that same smile.
Finding none, he turned back to the laptop.
You picked up the fork again.
His eyes immediately flicked toward it.
You held out another piece.
This time, he looked at you first.
There was the faintest pause before he leaned over and took it, then returned to his report with the resigned expression of someone who had apparently accepted that finishing his work tonight was no longer going to be as straightforward as he’d planned.
You kept smiling.
He kept pretending not to notice.
𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋
The tide was inching closer by the time Rafayel finished the last turret, sleeves pushed to his elbows and sand sticking to his hands. The sunset had turned the water orange, and every few seconds the light caught against his hair as he leaned over the sand castle, completely absorbed in getting one tiny detail right.
You’d stopped helping a while ago.
Sitting cross-legged a few feet away, you watched him work with a smile you hadn’t bothered hiding.
He noticed eventually. Of course he did.
He glanced over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised slightly when he caught you staring. “What?”
“Nothing.”
That answer clearly wasn’t enough. His gaze moved between you and the half-finished castle, then back again, as if trying to figure out what exactly had been so interesting for the past ten minutes.
You smiled a little wider. “You’re looking good.”
He blinked.
It was subtle, but his hands stopped moving.
“You’ve got the sunset behind you,” you added, like you were explaining an entirely reasonable observation. “It’s doing most of the work.”
He gave a quiet scoff and turned back to the castle. “Obviously.”
Except he suddenly seemed very interested in fixing a section of wall that was already perfectly fine.
You watched him press the sand down once, then again.
“Rafayel.”
“What?”
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
His ears were already giving him away.
You laughed, and he finally looked back at you, expression caught somewhere between offended and embarrassed. He seemed ready with a comeback, but whatever he had planned disappeared halfway through. Instead, he pointed at the castle.
“You’re distracting the architect.”
“The architect was already staring at his own sandcastle.”
He gave you a suspicious look, then reached for another handful of sand, apparently deciding that continuing the castle was safer than continuing the conversation. You let him.
The smile stayed on your face as he worked, though every so often his eyes wandered back to you before quickly returning to the castle.
By the time the tide reached the first turret, he still hadn’t noticed how long he’d been sitting there doing absolutely nothing to stop you from smiling at him.
𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒
The quiet was broken only by the occasional click of metal as Sylus worked at the table, the disassembled parts arranged neatly in front of him. His movements were practiced and unhurried, attention fixed on what he was doing.
You sat across from him with your chin resting on your knees, watching.
Not because you needed anything. You’d just been looking at him for several minutes now, smiling for no particular reason.
He noticed eventually.
“What’s with the smile?”
You shrugged. “You look good doing that.”
His hands paused.
He looked up at you, and the corner of his mouth lifted almost immediately. There was no surprise in his expression, only the unmistakable satisfaction of someone who’d just received a compliment he intended to enjoy.
“Do I?”
“Mm.”
That seemed to be enough for him. He finished what he was doing and leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself.
“Careful, kitten. Compliments like that tend to go to my head.”
“I think it’s already there.”
He lets out a quiet chuckle. He glanced at you again, amusement settling comfortably across his face.
“You seem awfully interested.”
“I was interested before.”
“Of course you were.”
You smiled again.
He watched you for a moment, then shook his head as though he'd finally figured out what was so entertaining about the whole situation.
“You’re easy to amuse.”
“You're the one making it easy.”
Another quiet chuckle escaped him. Then, apparently deciding he'd had enough of being the one under observation, he picked up the firearm he'd just finished with and held it out toward you, grip first.
“Here.”
You took it, more curious about his sudden change in attention than anything else. Sylus watched as you examined it briefly, arms folding across his chest.
“Hm.” His gaze moved from the firearm in your hand to your face. “You look good with it.”
He said it so casually that it almost sounded like an afterthought, though the satisfied look on his face suggested otherwise, clearly more interested in the person across from him than whatever he’d been working on in the first place.
𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁
Tiny plastic parts covered most of the table, wings and fuselage pieces sorted into little piles around him. Caleb had the instruction sheet beside him, tweezers in one hand, and the kind of concentration that made his brow furrow over something that probably didn’t deserve that much seriousness.
You sat across from him, just staring at him. Not for any particular reason. You just liked watching him get absorbed in things, and somewhere along the way, you’d started smiling without realizing it.
“Someone’s staring.”
You rested your chin in your hand. “Got a problem with that?”
He glanced up, an easy grin already forming. “No problem. I like it.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, returning his attention to the tiny wing between his fingers. “Means I’m doing something right.”
You watched him for another second before smiling a little wider. “Or you just look funny when you concentrate.”
His hands stopped. The grin on his face faltered for half a second before he cleared his throat and looked back down at the model.
“I don’t look funny.”
“Sure.”
He muttered something under his breath and tried fitting the wing into place again. Somehow, the same piece he’d been handling perfectly a moment ago refused to cooperate. He adjusted it once, then again, suddenly paying far too much attention to getting it right.
You kept smiling.
After a moment, he glanced up again.
“You’ve been doing that for ages, you know.”
“Doing what?”
“Smiling at me.”
You shrugged, as though there were nothing worth explaining.
He looked at you for a beat, then shook his head with a quiet laugh, apparently deciding not to question it further. The familiar grin returned as he finally got the wing into place.
“Fine. Keep doing it.” He leaned back slightly, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I don’t mind being appreciated.”
“You really like attention, don’t you?”
“Only from you.” His answer came without hesitation.
That one caught you off guard.
He noticed immediately.
A small, satisfied smile appeared as he turned back to the model, humming under his breath while you tried to recover your own expression.
Apparently, the pilot had finally managed to land a hit.
Okay, so… hi again...? /inserts nervous laughter/ Just wanted to post something since I’m getting rusty AGAIN AARRRGHHH... forgive me, folks... I’m a bit sleepy and have things to do tomorrow, so here you go for now! xixi
calling sylus because you had a terrifying nightmare and now you're scared, alone, and crying in your apartment. sylus driving his motorcycle from the n109 zone all the way to your apartment in the middle of the night just to comfort you. hugging you in his safe and steady arms in the darkness. his warmth enveloping you.
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You slowly wake to the feeling of a hand brushing over your head and the gentle press of lips against your temple. Blearily stirring, trying to open your eyes, mumbling incoherently, a voice above you chuckles, warm and rich and familiar. Your instincts would have you grabbing your weapon otherwise.
"Shh, sweetie. Go back to sleep," Sylus coos, though even he knows you won't. It's been a week since he saw you last. Business overseas took longer than expected, and life at home was too busy to bring you along with him. He didn't tell you he would be home tonight. And he's glad he didn't, to see the way your body fights its exhaustion just to greet him.
You reach out blindly, desperate to feel him, to know that he's real. He chuckles as he takes your hand and guides it to his face, where you can feel the edge of his smile pressing into your palm. You squint up at him through the darkness. He's certain you can't see anything more than the shine of his eyes, but it's all you need to have a dumb, lopsided smile stretching your face. "Sylus..."
He hums. Hearing your voice in person is such a special treat. A welcome reprieve from the phone call muffling and voice message static. He leans in closer, without meaning to, to chase the sweet sound. "I'm home."
"You're home...!" you repeat, sleepy yet ecstatic. A yawn chases after it."When didju get back?"
"The jet landed half an hour ago."
"Are you tired?"
He huffs a laugh. "I might be. Why? Does a little kitten need some company tonight?"
Your smile gets brighter, cheeks squishing your eyes nearly shut. You nod. "Yes, please."
"Of course, little kitten." He kisses your cheek, lips lingering for a second longer than necessary. He can feel your peace radiating off of you in warm waves. The bliss of having him back home with you. "Give me a minute to change."
You're loath to let him go as he stands to his full height, but your exhaustion is slowly winning out. He has to tuck your hand into your blankets to stop it from falling limply back to the bed. You try to watch him move around the room. Witness the space he takes up as he works efficiently to remove his jacket and socks and redress into some pajamas. Even that becomes too tiring. So you listen. To the rustle of fabric as he kicks off his jeans and pulls on his sleep shirt. The soft steps over carpet as he sets his watch and jewelry on the vanity in the corner.
By the time he lifts the blankets on his side of the bed and slips in, you can't track his movements anymore. Your mind drifts in and out of sleep, lingering in the hazy in-between. You can feel the heat of him at your back, and the strength of his arms that pull you against his chest - but that too slips away. Replaced with void and dreams.
Sylus, still quite awake especially at this late hour, buries his face into your neck. He breathes you in deeply. The scent of his body wash mixed with your shampoo, and the perfume he specially ordered for you. He lets it wash away the smell of the jet's interior and the cities overseas; the leather of his car when he rushed over and all the meals he ate alone. Until your fragrance is all he can remember.
His lips have a mind of their own, peppering your skin with their affection. He's careful not to wake you. Mindful of his desire to kiss every inch of your skin to re-familiarize himself with your body. Perhaps if you weren't fighting to cling to consciousness just to welcome him home, then he would have kissed you senseless back into the plush of the pillow. Whispered how much he missed you against your lips as he tasted the mint of your toothpaste.
All of that can wait. He'll make up for the time he's been gone - he'll make sure of it. For now, though, while you sleep all safe and secure in his arms, he'll match the rise and fall of your breaths, and count the seconds until he gets to hear your voice again.
