#gran love and deepspace

[aethercodeevol]

I'm sorry for your loss. What do you miss most about Gran and Caleb?

*I place my teacup down onto the saucer, my eyes resolving to look out the window. The day is lively and bright, sun warming the bones of those who are dreary...I admire it wistfully.*

That's an... excellent question, anon... *My mind wanders to my childhood, of playing tag with Caleb, scratches adorning our knees, dirt caked under our nails...the world, our oyster. How Caleb would carry me home after I'd fallen asleep in a field a few miles from Gran's home....our home. His arms strong, his heart beating rhythmically against my ear like a lullaby, even as a child he was my protector.*

Caleb always had the biggest heart, sometimes it would get him into trouble ....trust me, I'd seen the other guy as I would bandage up his knuckles when he got home, sometimes I'd put a pretty pink bandaid onto the wound just to see him whine. *I laugh at the memory, how he would pout that I would bandage a big strong man like himself up when I was just fresh out of highschool.*

He was always my confidant, listening to me for hours on end as I would ramble on about school to a stupid cat video I saw to the latest heartbreak to my medical check-ups to when we were going to have our schedules line up to grab a beer and how he'd always sign off his long winded speech by calling me 'pipsqueak'.... *I look down, my dark under eyes mirrored back to me in the tea's reflection* I wish he would call it that ....just once more.

*My memories collide in front of me, of an old woman, who smelled like fresh cookies and upturned soil from her years gardening in her retirement. How her eyes would crinkle lovingly, her generous life etched into every comforting and familiar wrinkle on her face...a life I greedily wish could've outweighed my own.*

Gran was....a woman who taught me what it was to be human. She was a strong woman but kind...sharp as a tack yet generous with her heart. *I remember a time, coming home in a huff as I all but ran to my bedroom, tears already spilling over as I'd gotten into a stupid argument with a friend. At the time it was catastrophic but as Gran knocked on my door, a bribe of cookies and tea for my tell-all on the matter, her hand rubbed soothingly against my back as my shoulders jumped with sobs and she tenderly wiped my tears with her favourite hankerchief...her words of wisdom fell onto receptive ears, how time will heal this wound and how I learnt that it would...and how I learnt her absence was a wound I would heal from in turn....but the colder months would always ache like a healed break in a bone.*

I would be lying if I said I didn't miss her cooking and cups of tea most of all... *I smile at the stupidity of such a thing to mourn* But Gran always held dear the small things in life... How a new flower she planted would bloom and thrive, how homemade cooking was always the best, how her knitted scarfs and lovingly guiding words would warm me, how a cup of tea would fix everything and how I miss her hugs, how at first I would reach up to hug her and how our roles switched as I grew and got older, how she'd still pinch my cheek at any age and say how proud of me she was...

*I take a sip of my tea, blinking the dew in my eyes to look up*

I don't think I can pin point a thing I'll miss about them... I miss everything about them, the good and the bad.

*I smile, genuinely, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear as I clutch the mug with resolve* I just pray, that wherever they are now... If they can see me, I just hope they're happy and safe.... And I hope they're proud of me and that one day they'll greet me again with open arms.

- ❤️‍🩹

[astracora]

The Cat Curse - MC Edition

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: Heavy hurt|Some comfort, Semi-canon compliant heart condition, Spoilers for current story release (Small mentions of Sylus bond up to 102 and all of Sylus' currently released content).

Word Count: 4170

Written: 23rd December 2024

Notes: New relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs (this time with group chat), with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me.

Now Playing: Monster, by STARSET

Next ->

You've been responding to his messages, Sylus notes, but something's off. He's been away on some inane business trip, ever since you, the doctor, the fish, the prince and he had visited a new kitty cafe opening. He rarely gets to see you visibly excited, you are worse at showing your feelings on your face than he is. Whenever you're faced with animals, of any kind, even Mephisto, your eyes sparkle and you could easily spend hours upon hours sat with them. Even more so if they let you pet them.

The first time you'd seen the evol kitties, according to the doctor, you'd been unsure. They didn't look like cats. Something off and a little wrong, but they mewed at you and straight away you'd gently stroked their noses. As if unable to hold back.

Since then you would drag any of them along to play kitty cards. You didn't like the game, had no patience for strategy, but you did like petting the cats. Sitting there between every round, barely looking at the board, and tickling small whiskers. Much to the fish's distress.

While Sylus doesn't really care if he wins or loses around you, he's almost assured a win when playing with you because it's simply not something you care about. Distracted and unbothered by the game. He's only relieved that when he sprouted ears and a tail (of the caracal kind), you had been just as enamoured with those. Finally smothering him in affection in the same way, and being distracted by his tail. Though he'd never confess to competing with cats, at this point it's just an everyday occurrence.

He found he enjoyed playing most with the doctor, unlike when the man played with you, he took no soft approach with Sylus, and it was fun to butt heads with him. Stubborn as they both could be. That left you to lean your head on the fish's lap, the prince asleep against your side already, and play with cats, to a backdrop of 'You're cheating', 'I'm simply better at this than you.', 'If you would stop getting distracted-' that you mostly blocked out.

Rounds later, he paid the bill before anyone else got chance to, and picked up some cakes to take back.

Then he'd had his business trip to attend, having moved things around so on your rare day off, you could see everyone. It was never fun to drop you off, Sylus missed you anytime he could not see you, and though he was prideful, he had been honest about not being able to sleep without the sound of your voice. A confession you'd flushed at and tugged at one of the straps of your prosthetic.

He'd watched you waver over how to respond, biting at your lip, and fidgeting, as you fought against your urge to run away from him.

Trying didn't come easy, you'd told him. Honesty and openness, it got even harder when you'd lost your family, it got easier with every day you were given room to breathe by all of them, and every friend you held dear to your 'broken' heart. He didn't want to dig, or poke at old wounds, not now you were trying to live... but he often saw too much of himself in you.

Whether it was because of the way you'd grown up, or his soul inside of you, it made him even more careful and aware of offering you what you offered him.

"I'll miss you too, Sy. Call me, alright?" Your finally settled on, cool metal hand taking his in yours and squeezing. Before he'd left you, reluctant and complaining, he'd pressed kisses over your face, down your neck, and finally pushed you to the wall of your apartment building, to steal all the air from your lungs. Thigh holding you up, as he tangled his hands in your hair.

When he'd tried to pull away, he couldn't quite, leaning back in once, twice, three times, chasing the warmth of your mouth. Over and over.

You'd laughed, pushing him back to breathe, gasping, "It's a week. We'll be fine for a week."

A week... you aren't possessive enough, he thinks, spinning his pen in his hand. Half listening to Luke and Kieran talk. He feels as though he's emptied and lost, missing parts of what makes him who he is, and your messages feel... the same.

He could be reading into it... you're not exactly one to put your heart on your sleeve, or cling. You're independent because you've had to be, and he still hasn't had enough time to get you to lean all of your weight on him.

So he sends a message into the group chat without you, made in order to plan surprises or outings.

🐦‍⬛: Is everything ok back home?

⛄️: Aren't you busy?

🐦‍⬛: I'm taking a break.

They don't have to know he's tuning out his business partners, hoping they'll talk themselves out so he can leave.

🐠: lucky, some of us have r busy

🐠: [Attached photo]

🐦‍⬛: Please tell me that's not paint on my walnut table.

🐠: won't answer u then

⭐️: looks more colourful now

He rubs the space between his eyes, already dreading returning to the mess, and regretting letting the fish use his space for storing work while his studio is being fumigated. The partners at the table tense at his action, but he doesn't bother sparing them a glance, so they relax and resume talking.

🐦‍⬛: Is anyone going to answer my question?

⛄️: Is there a reason you're asking?

He hesitates, it's just a feeling, if he worries everyone, and it's nothing...

No, he didn't get this far by not trusting his instincts.

🐦‍⬛: Kitten's messages have felt off.

Two exclamation reactions are his instant response, the fish and prince. They start to type, then stop, then start again.

🐠: what way?

⭐️: have U called them?

⛄️: Calm down, they took some time off work because of a cold.

🐠: y didn't anyone tell us?

⛄️: I thought they would have asked Tara to contact you, or contacted you themselves?

🐦‍⬛:  They didn't.

⭐️: ive been on mission for a couple of days, i can stop in tomorrow when its over

He puts his phone down too forcefully and looks at the room. He's... irritated. Not like he normally is when it comes to you, a childish way where he can't have enough as he likes from you. Like you're a toy he cannot stop playing with. He's almost angry, but mostly sad.

He's been patient, surely you can at least talk to him if you feel sick?

Sylus is done with this trip, he's bored of listening to people talk nonsense, and he has no need for anything they have to offer. "We're done here, Luke. Kieran."

Waving his hand absently and ignoring protests behind him, he leaves the room, phone in hand.

🐦‍⬛: I'm coming back now.

-------------

Jenna had sent you home, it's not the first time she has. You're terrified one day she'll get bored of having to keep track of your health. Or you'll really let her down, and get you... or more importantly someone else, hurt.

It's probably not a normal mindset to worry so much about what your boss thinks, or to fear disappointing them like they're your parent.

It's not like you have parents to know what's that like... but gran's disappointment every time you got into fights growing up... well it was enough.

Caleb used to cover for you, within reason. He lectured you, told you to pull yourself up and figure it out. That fighting every battle against every jerk you met, reckless and stupid, would get you killed. "Come on pipsqueak, use that energy for something better. Something worthwhile."

So many reasons you didn't want to or couldn't, you wanted to tell him... a hand clenched over your chest.

You were so tired of disappointing them both though, so tired of seeing worn eyes tending to cuts and bruises. Bandaging your back, or fixing the set of your arm.

Being a hunter was that answer. If you used what little life you had in you, unsure when your busted up heart would give out finally, then you could greet Caleb and Gran with pride. Your life was a tool, to make others better.

So every day you weren't working, felt like a day you were failing them... failing to be worth anything other than the core in your chest. A vessel with no purpose or value but to hold something you hated. That could kill you.

It wasn't like you could work like this though... you'd laughed at your partners when they'd sprouted ears and tails. Especially Raffy, he'd been so disgruntled at the fate that had befallen him. This was... probably karma. Pointed, soft ears on top of your head, pinned back against your skull. Pristine white, so they at least blended into your hair.

At your back, a bristled tail, huge and furry... already having picked up some dirt to sully what had been pure white.

It hadn't settled since it had appeared, and you wondered what that said about you...

Fucked up mess. Stupid fool. Useless.

Too loud, everything was too loud. You could hear your neighbours through the walls, all the cars below your apartment, every child crying, dog barking, cat mewling.

It hurts.

You covered your ears with your hand, but noise filtered in through the new set you'd acquired.

Hurts.

You'd grown accustomed to the state of your heart. If you don't pay attention you can miss something, and you care now... perhaps you always did, just too raw like an open wound to let yourself.

It's racing and panicked. You don't need your hunter's watch to know it's too fast. 

Burying yourself into your bed, you cover your head with the duvet, grab at your headphones to shove them into your ears, turning them as loud as they can go, and bury your head under the pillows.

Your phone buzzes at your side, and you don't want to touch it. Scared to leave the cocoon you've built for yourself.

You'd begged Tara to tell Zayne you were sick with a cold, that you would be fine soon. She'd given you a heartbroken look that had made you bristle further, pity. Always pity.

You didn't want pity.

Before your fraying emotions could get the best of you, you'd fled the hunters association, hood up over your head and run home.

You can feel your tail trembling, struggling to swish under the blanket as you struggle to calm down, to at least get some sleep.

Maybe if you sleep it will go away.

Maybe when you wake up you'll feel better.

Useful.

Worth having around.

Not on the cusp of disappearing with nothing to show for yourself.

-----

When you'd woken up, tail still bristled, and newly acquired fangs digging into your bottom lip. Blood staining the bedsheet, you'd finally fished your phone out from your nest.

3am.

The world was quieter for it, and you wondered if this was part of why Sylus preferred the night to day.

You didn't remove your headphones, but you did finally open up your messaging app, seeing messages from everyone.

TaraTara💖: I hope you're ok bestie, if you need anything let me know.

Number One Lumiere Fan: Tara said you were sick, if you have time, I have a few shows you could watch to waste time. Only one is about Lumiere! Promise!

Simone (the one whose guns explode): Hey! Tara said you weren't doing so hot, if you want some company for a movie night, I make the best soup you'll ever have!

Captain: Remember to actually get some rest, take advantage of the break, alright? Everything will be fine here.

🐠cute fishie 🐠: hey cutie, wat do u think?

🐠cute fishie🐠: [Attached Image]

⭐️little star⭐️: missions going well, how are U?

⛄️sweet snowman⛄️: Tara said you're sick, I'll come over to check on you as soon as I can. Make sure you eat and drink.

🐦‍⬛pretty bird🐦‍⬛: Meetings are always more boring without you kitten, I hope you're missing me as much.

Your tail settles, curling against your side, fur flattening and you try really hard not to cry. You wish you'd thanked Tara when you left instead of fleeing, overstimulated and hurting.

Wounded like the cat you're teasingly referred to as. Feral and ready to hiss and scratch. You've spent so many years shutting people out.

Shutting Gran and Caleb out.

Shutting them out you wasted so much time until it was too late.

Why can't you learn?

You force yourself to respond, trying to sound as much yourself as you can... it's unnerving, to wear a mask over a mask. You wonder if you'll ever recognise your reflection.

You hesitate as you go to respond to your partners. You should tell them, reaching up to roughly pull the ears on your head. They'd understand, they've been where you are. Your brain says you should go to the kitty cafe, find out how to fix it this time around... but being out there, in the noise...

Instead you send some version of you're fine, and things are fine, everything is good. You're good.

You're together. You're useful. You're not a burden.

You aren't fragile and sick and useless.

You are worth keeping around, even when your heart picks up speed again, beating so hard against your chest that you fear the core wants to escape its fleshy vessel.

The straps attaching your prosthetic are digging into your skin, rubbing it raw, but you ache to even try to remove it. Fighting with the buckles and biting at the bit. You're still in your uniform, and you're sure by now you need a shower. The idea of water shooting a shot of anxiety straight into your chest, flaring up your tail, and your ears flatten as far as they can.

No water...

Maybe later.

Or you can really fill out how shit you feel with a wet wipe bath.

Caleb would kill you.

You don't want to think about it anymore. You want to let the quiet take over, or reasonably so with the screamo in your ears. Blasting the noise outside into nothing.

So you go back to sleep. Easing the pain in your heart with the only sure fire way.

---------

You can't breathe. You can't breathe.

Bolt upright in bed, hissing through your teeth, chest so tight you can feel your ribs.

You flounder, pulling at where your straps should be, but they're gone, no leather under your fingers. So you move to claw at your chest with one hand, gasping.

Hands grab you, and you struggle and you fight and you hiss. Fangs out, feral and ready to claw your way free. Arms far stronger than you pull you against a warm chest, tilt your head back and pills are placed in your mouth. You try to spit them out but a hand is on your throat, rubbing at your larynx. You swallow and then water follows it.

You splutter and cough, and you wriggle and struggle. Your head is pressed against skin, and you sink your fangs in.

Out. Out. Out.

"It's alright, you're alright, I'm here."

Blood fills your mouth and his scent surrounds you and you shiver. Blinking as your heart medication begins to do its job, easing the fractured organ in your chest. You spit, trying to clear your mouth of the taste of metal, shivering and shaking but your chest isn't constricting you now.

"Sy-" You cry outloud, he holds you, not bothered by the blood tricking down his shoulder. Of course he isn't, he heals it, the pain nothing in comparison to watching you choke on air you can't breathe. "Sorry. Sorry." You mumble against his skin, licking where you bit, crying and shaking. Wrapping your arm around his neck.

He assures you, and he rocks you both in his arms, rubbing your back and running a hand through your hair. Careful around your ears, not going far enough down to touch your bristled tail.

He hums and he rocks, and he squeezes you tight enough to ground you.

It's an hour or two later when you can finally feel any semblance of stable. You can't bring yourself to look at Sylus, he's stroking your cheek and wiping tears from your face, and all you can do is stare at the bed. You can't think of what to say.

You didn't take your medication, you hurt him... it's not the first time, but when this happened with Caleb you didn't have a cats' fangs.

Between you opening up and me prying, I prefer the former. He'd told you, after a terrible day, listing every way he would support you.

With all your sharp edge, you place your hand over his on your cheek, "I'm sorry, Sy."

He huffs, turning you in his arms so you're facing each other, but his one hand grips your hip, sturdy. Solid, strong. He doesn't hurt, but escaping would be hard. You try hard not to.

Though you can feel the... your tail swishing.

He looks at it, at your ears, then at you, red nosed and disheveled.

"Explain."

It's a command, brooking little argument, and though normally you'd refuse to take orders, you duck your head now. Avoiding molten eyes and seeking out something to focus on. The hand that was on your head, stretches out in between you both, palm up, and you take it quickly. Toying with his fingers, squeezing it in your own. Finding connection in your hand on his.

"Jenna sent me home, my evol doesn't work, I can't fight. I... it hurt. Everything's so loud."

You can't see it as he frowns, as your ears prick, then settle, seeking out all the things that hurt them. "I went to sleep, thought it would make this go away, but it didn't."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You hear it then, the pain, like he's biting down on glass. Your eyes dart up and his eyes are glassy, warm red gone dull. "You left your prosthetic on. It was rubbing your skin raw at the angle you were sleeping. There was blood on your sheets." He presses his forehead to yours and breathes you in, "Then this. Why didn't you tell me?" His voice cracks, and you want to be sick.

You twine your fingers with his and choke on the words, "I didn't want to be a bother."

He hisses, his grip on your hand almost hurts, but you probably deserve so much worse. You lied to him, to them, and you hurt him. More than just biting at him.

"You need to tell me. No matter what. No matter what I'm doing, beloved. No matter the issue." He kisses your forehead, over and over and over again. "Promise me."

You nod, and curl your pinky around his, just like you used to with Caleb when he made you promise to come to him with an injury. The words are too stuck in your throat, your voice too sore to use, but you nod. Desperately.

"You're not a burden to be carried, kitten. Ever. Do you understand?"

You don't. You want to, but it's hard. There is no part of you that feels easy or fun, but you do love him. So much. More than you thought yourself capable of. More than you wanted, on borrowed time.

"I'll try." You promise, and it feels like you've cycled back around to the start. Promising to figure things out at home, promising to aim for something. A future you're not sure you're going to ever see.

He takes it in earnest, you do not go back on your word. You are loyal and once you trust, you trust with your heart and your soul. It is yourself you do not trust.

Instead he eases you back into his lap and stands, you flinch and release his hand to grab his neck with your hand. "You need to be cleaned up, I'll help." You go to tell him no because it's water, and you're more a cat than even he teases you for, but you have your head in his neck at this angle, and his scent is so strong. Your tail flattens and begins to flick, lazy and soothed. You hear him chuckle, vibrating through his chest and through yours. "I'm not going anywhere."

-----------

Sylus eases you through steps. He's seen you injured, he's seen you with phantom pains, and he's watched you battle nightmares. Wanderers with swords through your chest, your heart stopping, an explosion you can't stop. He knows what you look like when wounded, he also knows that you fear his reaction when you are.

It takes time to heal wounds, he knows that intimately. You'd never shed your rage or anger, not really. When someone has made mention of gods you'd scoffed, when someone has talked about EVER and their many plans to help humanity, you'd snarled. You trust no king, no god, no corporation to fix the world or the people in it. He knows you're always scared but you keep walking forwards anyway, and he admires and loves you for it.

He just wishes you'd take his hand when that happens.

He has not felt fear like seeing your heart failing you in his arms before, and no matter the violence of your struggle, he would let you rip him to pieces to survive.

He has so much time, and his greatest fear is losing you too soon.

He cleans, and he dries, brushing hair and rubbing lotion to ease the burns on your skin. He helps you dress, finding clothes that don't irritate your tail, because at least he is intimately familiar with that, and then he sits you down on the couch with vegetable soup. Not handmade, though he'd rather have done so. He doesn't want to leave you alone, so he orders what he needs. Sending the twins running around. He's sure you'd like to see them, but he's worried their exuberance will agitate the overstimulation you're combatting.

Watching your ears flick this way and that, picking up too much. As though you don't already struggle with the world's input.

He almost feeds you, wanting to heal you with his own hands, like he's anything like the doctor... he's not. His skills are in bloodshed, and he is as sharp edged as you are.

Except you have made yourself a weapon, to be worth the pain, and he was made a weapon, to survive the pain.

He does not move far away, however, kneeling at your feet, and massaging your calves while you eat. You try to pull your legs away, but he keeps them held, and continues his movements. You have soothed his body before, stitched his wounds, kissed where his scars would be, and he will not have you lacking his own love and affection.

A dragon does not love lightly. Though you don't remember the depths he has gone to for you. This is an easy act of devotion.

"You need to tell them too." He finally speaks, as you clear your bowl. He's relieved to see your ears are no longer flat, your tail is not bristled, you are as relaxed as you can be. You nod, guilt written in your face, and he retrieves your phone for you on black and red mist.

Sitting at your side, he grabs your brush and begins to brush your tail. You almost leap into the air, startled and dropping your phone onto the couch cushions. "Sy!"

"Cat fur can get tangled, especially long fur." He smirks, pulling you closer, and brushing through it with long fingers, "So let me take care of it."

You flinch at the contact, stare at where his hand is in the new found attachment, then keeping your eyes trained on your phone, you nod.

He's content to let you write out what you need to, to be honest with the others, he doesn't want to have that job. It's your mission to step out of your self made cage. So he brushes quietly, the twitching tail in his hands restless, but soon as soft as you can be in your relaxed moments.

Your head hits his shoulder, ears twitching in sleep as all the pent up energy and stress escapes you. Held in long white furs in a small brush. You mutter in your sleep, words he can't understand, and whistle through your nose, little noises that make him laugh.

The best, however, is the purring in the back of your throat, broken up by sleep, and the tail that has found its way around his wrist.

He does not move you, but he retrieves a blanket and holds you against him, cheek pressed to the top of your head, against your fur ears, and keeps watch while you finally find some peace.

⛄️: Are they alright?

🐦‍⬛: They will be.

[undermine-the-instinct]

One thing i noticed about myself after playing Love and Deepspace is that i really love Kuuderes....Its not good but almost all my cards are Zayne and they're all atleast a level 30...I have a level 27 intimacy with him (13 for Xavier and like, 6 for Rafayel...I dont like rafayel...) The only one that can top him (and me) Is Sylus

[annerly-san]

Till Death do we Part, my Ass! - Chapter 3 - "breaking news: you can’t marry your family - unless you’re in Alabama"

Summary:

Caleb pulls big brother ghost shenanigans to fend off any men within a 5 km radius of his little pipsqueak

A love and deepspace fanfic for Caleb

Chapter Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Alternative AO3 link:

Zayne was alright in Caleb’s books. At least he was.

But seeing Zayne with his little pipsqueak in these past few days had somehow manifested an absolute abhorrence of the man who was once his childhood friend.

“STOP WITH THE FLIRTING, YOU STONE-COLD ELSA-ASS MOTHERFUCKER-!” Caleb screamed, trying everything—absolutely everything—to smack that stupid snowman out of Zayne’s hands and away from his little pipsqueak, who had the cutest flush across her cheeks—caused by the cold, he assured himself, and definitely not Zayne.

“FIRST IT WAS THE DOUBLE LATTES—!” Caleb cried again in exasperation. “AND THEN IT WAS THE STUPID SKYLIGHTS! AND NOW IT’S A SNOWMAN?!”

Caleb watched in abject horror as his pipsqueak took the snowman from Zayne.

No.

Nonono.

NONONONONONONO!

“ANYONE BUT ZAYNE, PLEASE PIPSQUEAK!! PLEASE!!!!” Caleb wailed and flailed as he went through the vain motions of punching Zayne’s head.

Was Caleb grateful for Zayne being there for his little pipsqueak when she was down?

Yes.

Was he grateful for Zayne being there for his pipsqueak right now?

Absolutely fucking not.

Caleb could hear the wedding bells in his ears now.  The birds.  The bees.  The whole shabang.  He could see it so clearly- so vividly.  As kids, the three of them liked to play pretend and pipsqueak always dragged them into fantasy roleplay scenarios - one of which was one where he had to officiate a wedding between her and Zayne.

But now it wasn’t pretend anymore.

This was a nightmare coming to life before his very eyes.

“NO!  I want to marry Zayne today!” his pipsqueak wailed as she flailed about in their little make-believe wedding altar.

Caleb, in all of his maturity as an elementary schooler, immediately broke down in tears.

“B-but pipsqueak you said that you’d marry me-!”

“NO!”  Caleb got shoved aside- physically and metaphorically- to the ground as his little pipsqueak grabbed a blushing Zayne and dragged him up atop the dirt mound and stuck her tongue out at him.  “I AM MARRYING ZAYNE NOW!”

“NOO-!”

He wasn’t quite sure what had happened.

He might have punched Zayne.

He might have grabbed his pipsqueak, running through the yard as she kicked and bit him in an attempt to let her down.

He might have professed his confessions of love.  Maybe something along the lines of, “I’M THE ONE MARRYING YOU!  I’M THE ONE THAT LOVES YOU THE MOST!”

But he definitely got his little butt beat and grounded by Grandma after whatever fiasco ensued.

Caleb didn’t get into trouble too often; the troubles he did get into were small and didn’t warrant any severe discipline.   There used to be a joke that he was going to be a pilot when he grew up, always flying around the house at top speed- leaving a trail of laughter and mischief wherever he went.  Even in the instances where he did get grounded, the Caleb-plane would land at the layaway for an hour at most before taking off and flying around again.

But this time, the Caleb-plane was grounded indefinitely, and the house felt like it had lost its pilot. As if a total ground stop was ordered until further notice, the house was silent and still.

At first, Gran thought it was just a phase—Caleb sulking as he sometimes did when things didn’t go his way. But days passed, and his door remained shut.

Had his original punishment been for a week, it was cut short fairly quickly as Gran noticed that something was not quite right.  But despite being left off early from his discipline, Caleb didn’t move from his room.

Gran tried everything to coax him out. She knocked gently, offering his favorite snacks, telling him stories, even threatening to take away his comic books. But nothing worked.

Had Pipsqueak been upset with him before, it was all long forgotten.

He felt a bit bad at how worried he was making her, but the gripling feelings of hurt and betrayal ate at him overrode any thoughts of reconciliation that he might have considered.

“Caleb-” 

She brought him toys, games, and even his favorite apples - with lopsided smiley faces she had drawn out in, probably inedible and toxic, black ink.

Caleb successfully weathered the mad punches in his blanket fort and bombardments of projectiles, and at times full body slams, and never relented.  The Caleb castle was unbreachable.

“Gran!  Caleb isn’t talking to me anymore!!” he heard his pipsqueak cry out to their grandma.  “Does he- Does he hate me now??” Her voice became wrought with cries, and Caleb wavered.

Of course he would never hate her.

He resisted the urge to throw out his blanket and make up with her quickly - hating to hear her distraught.

But no he can’t.

He covered his ears to drown it out.

Hours of silence had gone by.  Caleb wondered if Gran had taken pipsqueak out of the house.

He came out of his fort.

There was a soft knock on his door.

“Caleb?”  He heard his Gran’s voice.  “I want to talk to you.  I’m going to come in, ok sweetie?”

Alarmed, he dashed under the covers right in time to hide as the door creaked open.

If he was still enough, Caleb was sure that his Gran would go away.

But she didn’t.

He felt her gentle hand on his back through the blanket.

“Caleb, sweetie,” his Gran started speaking.  “You need to tell me what’s wrong.  Why are you so upset like this?  This isn’t like you.”

He gave her the silent treatment.

“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, then I can’t help you fix it, Caleb.”  His grandma gave him a few pats on the back.

Caleb thought about it for a moment.  Gran was right.  There was a severe injustice against him, and Gran didn’t know.  If he told her then she would surely help him make amends.

He threw the blanket down.

���Pipsqueak broke her promise with me!” he cried out - tears already welling up in his eyes.

“Oh, sweetie.”  He was pulled into a warm embrace.  “I’m sure she didn’t mean to.  We can clear this misunderstanding up.  What did she promise you?”

Caleb lit up.  His grandma would help him.

“She promised me that she would marry me!” he explained with optimism.

There was silence as Caleb stared into his grandma’s eyes - expecting her to avenge him for the injustice he was subject to for the past week.

His grandma broke out in tears from laughing.

Caleb was pretty sure that wasn’t a good sign.  His face flushed.

“W-what?  G-grandma why are you laughing-?!”

Five minutes of getting laughed at for no reason felt like an eternity and Caleb went back to his blanket fortress in confused embarrassment and anger.

He had to get coaxed out again.

“Why do you want to marry her, Caleb?”

“Well, obviously because I love her!” Caleb pouted, refusing to look at his Gran.

“There are different types of love, Caleb,” Gran said, gently. “You know how you love me, right?”

“...Yes?”

“But you’re not going to marry me, right?”

Caleb had to think for a minute. “...No?”

Gran smiled softly, pulling gently at the blanket he was shrouded in, trying to help him understand. “Exactly. There’s love that you feel for your family, and then there’s love that’s different—love where you might want to marry someone. What you feel for pipsqueak is the first kind. She’s your family, Caleb, and you love her like a sister.”

“She’s my family, but-!” Caleb started to protest, but Gran gently interrupted him.

“Even if she’s not your sister by blood, you think of her that way, don’t you? The way you look after her, the way you want to protect her—that’s what big brothers do. That’s how you love her.”

Caleb paused, the dots connecting slowly in his mind. A devastating epiphany started to form as his naive childhood longings were dashed from his hands, shattering before his eyes.

“So… I… I can’t marry pipsqueak because… I love her like a sister?” Caleb whispered.

“That’s right,” Gran confirmed, giving him a soft pat on the head. “And that’s okay, Caleb. That’s what she needs from you—just to be her big brother, to love her in the way that’s best for both of you.”

There was something twisting inside of him, a strange, uncomfortable feeling that he didn’t quite understand. He tried to push it away, burying it deep down.  It was like how he had hid an apple one time to make sure that pipsqueak wouldn’t eat it.  He had tucked it away in the back of his closet, hidden to everyone but himself, and it was buried under so many things for so long that one day when he opened the closet one day, it had ruined everything.  The once perfectly beautiful fruit had rotted and molded, growing and spreading spores into all the things in there and practically destroyed all the things he had in there.  And just like that apple, he buried his pure love for her, tucking it away under everything else—hoping it wouldn’t spoil, but knowing deep down it eventually would.

Gran’s voice brought him back to the present.  “As a big brother, you could just watch out for her and make sure that she gets married to a good person,” his Gran explained.

Caleb looked up at his Grandma.  He paused to think about it.

It made sense, he supposed.

“O-ok-” he muttered out hesitantly.  “I think I can do that.”

“Alright then.”  Gran stood up.  “Go make up with both of them.  You three were playing back then weren’t you?  Why don’t you be a good big brother and officiate their wedding?”

Caleb jumped up in horror.  “BUT GRAN I DON’T WANT PIPSQUEAK TO MARRY ZAYNE-!  I DON’T APPROVE!”

“Zayne’s your friend and a good person, Caleb,” his Gran admonished him with a firm tap to the head.  “Would you rather her marry a big bad kidnapper with red eyes instead?  An alien?  A fish?”

"'No,' Caleb muttered, once again defeated by Gran’s infallible logic.

Gran chucked.  “See?  So Zayne is better right?”

He lost the argument again--  muttering out a half-assed rebuttal-- but before he knew it, he was standing on the same damn dirt mound a few days later watching Zayne hold hands with his little pipsqueak as they wore stupid bride and groom costumes that was originally his and pipsqueak’s halloween costumes a few years ago.

Caleb was frothing at the mouth.

“Aren’t you supposed to say your line now, Caleb?” Zayne impatiently poked at him.  “Or did your small and smooth brain forget it already?”

He resisted the urge to punch Zayne again and locked eyes with Gran - who probably only came to make sure that Caleb didn’t try to beat up the groom again.

Caleb bit his lip and let out an exasperated sigh.

He lost.

“You may now-” Caleb gave Zayne the biggest stink eye he could muster.  “K-kiss the bride…”

He let out a sigh of relief as Zayne just stood there like the stone cold bitch he was.

But then he was practically jumped by pipsqueak who decided to help Zayne practice sloppily executed mouth to mouth resuscitation for medical school several years early.

Caleb fainted.

“Is this snowman supposed to be me?”

Caleb’s mind snapped back to the present. He shook his head, trying to shake off the memories. This wasn’t the time for a cute trip down memory lane. Pipsqueak was in the presence of a true heathen.

“THROW THAT SNOWMAN AWAY!” Caleb wailed. “GIVE IT BACK TO HIM—NOW!”

To his shock, it was as if his prayers were answered. Pipsqueak extended the snowman back to Zayne and placed it in his hands.

“Are you going to stay in Snowcrest for a while longer?”

Caleb let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god—” But it was too soon to celebrate.

“I’ll leave this with you then. Will… the snowman remind you of me?” Pipsqueak asked, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she cast quick, nervous glances at Zayne.

Caleb’s jaw dropped. “EXCUSE ME, MISSY—DID YOU JUST FLIRT WITH ZAYNE?!”

Zayne stared down at the snowman. “No,” he replied in his usual deadpan tone.

“Oh, thank god—” Caleb sighed, but Zayne wasn’t finished.

“However,” Zayne continued, “when I do think of you, I’ll just call.”

Caleb screamed, his voice echoing through the Arctic night, while the dazzling display of colorful auroras shone brightly above the three of them.

[hananoami]

hello! :)

i’m curious, what other games do you play? i play honkai star rail, wuthering waves, and before i played genshin impact and ff ever crisis.

(this is @letsgauxplay btw hehe. i’m using my main blog to ask).

We’re mutuals from my main as well! Hehe~ 💕 Since this is a side blog I follow and interact from @darkestsprinq 🌸

I had to take step back from playing too many games because some of the dailies were becoming very time consuming. Not enough hours in the day to play all the games I want to. 🫠 So the only gachas I’m actively playing right now are Love & Deepspace, Honkai: Star Rail and Goddess of Victory: Nikke. Having an auto battle option is so nice on my irl schedule. 🥲 I’m also actively playing the critically acclaimed MMORPG Final Fantasy XIV! :3

I’m a bit of a gacha addict… so other gachas that I’ve played in the past or ones that I’m on a break from include: Genshin Impact, Tears of Themis, Mister Love: Queen’s Choice, Mystic Messenger, Fate/Grand Order, Love Nikki, Shining Nikki, NU: carnival, Arknights, Azur Lane, Honkai 3rd Impact, Fire Emblem Heroes, Wuthering Waves, What in Hell is Bad?, Zen Zenless Zero, Gran Blue Fantasy, SiNoALICE, The Alchemist Code, Seven Knights Idle Adventure, Reverse: 1999, Dear Otome, Food Fantasy, Isekai: Slow Life, and Pokémon Go (does this count?)

Gachas aren’t the only game I play though. I have a wide collection of otome games in my backlog for switch/PC. Some of my favorite otomes include Bustafellows, Olympia Soirée, Collar x Malice, Variable Barricade, Nightshade, and Steam Prison. I also used to play a lot of Animal Crossing: New Horizons, Stardew Valley, Sun Haven, and Sims. Cozy, immersive games like those were my go to during Covid.

Game that I’m looking forward to? INFINITY NIKKI!!

TL;DR. I play way too many games and need to focus on completing my backlog instead of buying more, haha 🙃 Not that I have been anyway. LNDS takes up all of my gacha/games budget. Expensive 3D husbandos…

[flovverworks]

started love&deepspace cuz fatys posts about it. met tara. fell in love. thought about her being very in love w the mc. and ofc proceeded to think about how with both gran but especially akira i like the whole....other side of the pair being Way more dedicated LOLT_T those muse1-><-<-<-muse2 energies. i just think its funny for some of the most popular ships with akira, but i think theyd be very sweet & attentive in relations. they alrdy are anyhow......... but i just nvr think of either of them as Yearning Big Time ykno which feels like a joke considering how much of a romantic akira is........... gran however spends more time forcing romantic affection into friendship. perhaps theyd be more intense once they Are secure in a relation but even then..............i feel both are in the "im very happy to spend time alone with you^^" casual comment genre

[twohitgames]

Love and Deepspace recibe a Sylus en su nueva actualización

Infold Games anuncia que Love and Deepspace, el título Otome ultrarrealista recibirá su mayor actualización hasta la fecha en Love and Deepspace 2.0. Disponible en dispositivos iOS y Android, la actualización Visiones opuestas, promete una gran cantidad de contenido nuevo y presenta un nuevo interés amoroso por Sylus, un forajido misterioso y buscado que tomará el universo (y los corazones) por…

[crowmero]

A lot of negativity in Spanish about a western otome company. You know which one.

He pensado honestamente que preferiría mil veces que pongan un gacha en NewGen a tener que someterme a pagar por diálogos (!!!). Y decir eso es pasarme bastante porque honestamente odio mucho los gacha, pero esta gente necesita hacer dinero de alguna forma pero no tienen ni idea de como.

Lo que Beemoov necesita es atraer a las ballenas, los poseidones y lo leviatanes: necesita atraer a la gente que va pagar por su juego cantidades ridículas (particularmente en euros) y que va asegurar la estabilidad del proyecto, porque es gracias a esa gente que estos juegos pueden ser gratis para las otras personas que no pagan.

El problema es que ¿Qué le están ofreciendo a la gente para que inviertan? Los Devs son tan mamones que piensan que nos están haciendo un favor pero no veo que nos ofrezcan gran cosa para invertir o que me entren ganas de pagar.

De verdad es que he tenido unos pensamientos re-cínicos dónde creo que sí el dinero de LATAM no les da para comer, deberían solo bloquearnos del juego, deberían no hacerlo accesible a nuestros países, es totalmente posible hacerlo y solo dirigirse al público europeo y a los países que al parecer si les dan de comer. Ni siquiera me lo tomaría a mal, nos harían un pinche favor porque nuestro peso no vale nada para ellos. O nose honestamente, nose porque nos tienen consideración.

Y miro a la competencia que tienen y está cabrón, están compitiendo con cosas como "Love and DeepSpace" que también tiene customización de la protagonista (hasta la voz le puedes cambiar en unas versiones) y ese juego es Spiders Georg! es un experimento raro de otome pero la gente lo está consumiendo!!! y honestamente lo comprendo honestamente, tienen un concepto interesante y es de los mismos que hicieron MLQC, así que ya saben a qué van.

A veces de verdad no se ni porque les sigo dando oportunidad a esta gente, soy más feliz fuera de ahí, al menos los juegos en los que estoy ahora me hacen más feliz que todo el pinche desmadre de esa compañía europea. Esa gente de verdad se tiene que poner las pilas, tienen que saber que ofrecerle a la gente que les va pagar.

[sonsofks]

¡Love and Deepspace Despega Rumbo a Conquistar Corazones en su Lanzamiento Global para Dispositivos Móviles!

Infold Games Celebra el Debut de Love and Deepspace con la Voz Mágica de Sarah Brightman y un Evento Especial para sus 15 Millones de Jugadores Preinscritos La espera ha terminado, y la galaxia del amor está lista para recibir a millones de corazones. Infold Games, el genio creativo detrás de las exitosas series “Nikki” y “Mr. Love”, anuncia con gran emoción el lanzamiento global de su esperado…

[astracora]

I have a lot of feelings about Caleb helping bandage up MC's injuries ngl...

[annerly-san]

Till Death do we Part, my Ass! - Chapter 2 - "i want to hold your hand"

Summary:

Caleb pulls big brother ghost shenanigans to fend off any men within a 5 km radius of his little pipsqueak

A love and deepspace fanfic for Caleb

Chapter Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Alternative AO3 link:

He remembered closing the front door of their house behind him, feeling… hot… and hurt. But only briefly, because the next thing he knew, he was standing in the front entryway—watching fire blaze and burn as it consumed everything that was before him.

He stood there, dumbfounded, as the fleeting moments of peace and tranquility with his loved ones burned away before his very eyes.  Despite the intense heat of the fire before him, pure ice chilled him as horror wrapped its fingers about him and cemented his entire being in place.

Caleb shook from his stupor.  He could not afford the time to stand around.

“They need to be ok,” he whispered to himself in a hushed panic - something between a desperate prayer to a delusional means of coping with the tragedy unfolding in front of him.

Gran and pipsqueak. They were all that mattered now.

But pipsqueak was outside, wasn’t she? She had stayed behind to clean up the blood on her sleeve… Caleb’s thoughts raced. She might be okay—she had to be. He needed to believe that for now.

Gran was inside. She needed him more. He couldn’t waste time.

Caleb quickly turned, not quite understanding what had happened, but knowing with absolute certainty that he needed to make sure Granny and his pipsqueak were safe. The thought of losing either of them… No. He wouldn’t let that happen. Not them.

He didn’t feel the fire.  Perhaps he should have.  Or perhaps the pain in his heart and the racing thoughts of panic and fear in his mind convinced him that the fire was nothing compared to the agony he felt within.

Adrenaline fueled him as he ran into the dining room, now ablaze. Heavy smoke hung in the air, and the orange hue of burning matter was seared into his vision as he searched frantically for Gran.

A collapsed beam stood between him and the dining table where Gran would have most likely still been seated.

In a hurry, Caleb reached to grab it - only to watch his hand disappear into the wood.

Caleb withdrew his hand in shock.

“Did I-” Caleb attempted to grab the toppled beam once more, but his hand phased through the solid object as if he was-

“No—!” He waved his hand around, watching it pass through every physical object he touched. Denial gripped him as he continued, futilely, to try and grab hold of the beam again and again. “This can’t be—. Did I—?”

Caleb’s breaths drew quicker.  He wasn’t feeling the things that he was supposed to be feeling.  He didn’t feel hurt from the blast of the explosion.  He didn’t feel the burns of the fire he had just jumped through.  And it wasn’t just that either.  He shouldn’t be this agile after recoiling from the blast of an explosion.  His clothes weren't supposed to be this pristine and intact after crawling around in burning debris and dust.  And he came to a realization that no matter how hard he was breathing in panic, there was no burning of smoke in his lungs and no matter how many breaths he drew, he didn’t need them anyways.  And he came to the realization that he should be like this unless he was-

“-dead…?” he whispered to himself.

And as if articulating those words was his acceptance of the truth that befell him, he paused, the realization gnawing at what remained of him.

“I’m dead,” he breathed aloud.  “I…I died…”

Death wasn’t something Caleb had thought much about before. He was all about living in the present. And now, staring at his somewhat translucent hand, he realized that he wasn’t ready to be gone- not by a long shot.

He would come to terms with this later.

Caleb had bigger priorities now.

He might have realized one truth, but he was hoping- praying - that the others were not true.

Caleb stood straighter.  “Gran is going to be ok,” he whispered.  “Pipsqueak’s gonna be ok.  I just need to find them now.”

But he couldn’t find Gran. Despite coming to terms with his now spectral form, phasing in and out of the burning house, leaping up and down the collapsed floors, he couldn’t find her—or even what could have remained of her.

The guilt ate at him as he tried to find her, and what was left of his optimism hoped that she had stepped out of the house before it was consumed by the explosion.

But there was one more person that held his entire world together that he could not forget about.

“You better be ok, Pipsqueak,” Caleb whispered out as he pivoted and hurriedly rushed out to the front door.  “Please be ok.”

He dashed past the living room and into the foyer, phasing through the front door, to be met with the sight of his little pipsqueak laying listlessly on the ground before him.

He felt something burning now—a feeling that choked him from the inside out, bringing tears to his eyes. “Pipsqueak-!”

Guilt gnawed at what remained of him.  His heart twisted as he let out a wail, a sound so unrecognizable that even he barely recognized it as his own.  He collapsed at her side in shock.

Maybe it would have been better not to find her like this. Maybe it would have been easier to believe she had walked away unharmed.

He reached out to shake her awake, desperate to confirm she was still alive. But as his hand passed through her shoulder, the cruel reality struck him again like a cold slap.

“Pipsqueak-!”

Caleb knew.  He knew he was dead.  He knew he was a ghost now.  He knew that he wouldn’t be able to shake her awake no matter what he did.  But that didn’t stop him from trying.

Never had he felt so frustrated, so utterly powerless.

“Wake up!” he cursed, his hand phasing through her as if she were made of air. “Please! Please—!”

Then, as if by some miracle, she stirred.

Caleb’s breath caught in his throat.

She was alive.

“Pipsqueak—!” Caleb let out a breath he didn’t need, collapsing in a brief moment of joy. A small laugh escaped him. “I knew you wouldn’t die like this—”

He said it more for himself; she wouldn’t have been able to hear him anyways.

He could tell that her vision was blurred as she stirred awake and began crawling on her hands towards the fire.  Caleb saw the reflection of the burning house in her eyes and the shock that crossed her face as she stared right past him—as if he wasn’t there.

A twinge of hurt coursed through him.  He knew he was dead - yes.  But coming face to face to being nothing in her eyes now, made his heart ache and burn in a different way.

He stood up, backing up to give her space to pick herself back up.

“Yes-!” Caleb cried out.  “Get up, Pipsqueak!  You got this!”

He was trying to cheer her on - in part hoping she might hear his voice somehow, and in part to bury the fact that she couldn’t see him anymore.

It might have been a trick of the otherworld, or perhaps just coincidence, but his necklace—the one she had gifted him—came loose from his neck and fell at his feet.

Instinctively, Caleb reached out to grab his most prized possession. But his hand phased straight through it, as if it were nothing more than an illusion.

Yet, despite wearing it just moments ago, his hand passed right through it as if it were a mirage, disappearing into the concrete below.

“-what…?” he muttered, reaching for it again.

In that moment, a hand reached out and touched his - both grasping at the necklace that he had dropped.

Caleb froze.

“Pipsqueak-?” he whispered as he watched her take hold of it.

He watched as she pulled the necklace close to her, examining it with tears welling in her eyes.

Caleb held his breath as he watched, his vision blurring with tears as he listened to her soft calls for his name and Gran’s.

Her fingers closed around the chain, and Caleb placed his hand atop hers, knowing that she couldn’t feel it.  A subconscious smile crossed his lips as he was able to finally hold her hand this time around - albeit a little too late.

He watched as she took soft breaths, the veil of sleep slowly pulling her into unconsciousness.

Caleb settled onto the ground right next to her.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. 

“I’m here…” he cried.

He wouldn’t leave her anymore.