orphicmusings

[orphicmusings]

sylus is rich. disgustingly so. he only eats at fancy restaurants and shops at big ticket department stores.

there is nothing i would like to do more than show him the beautiful world of street dumplings and second hand hobby stores.

10 dumplings for ten dollars? they can't be good. wrong. they're mouthwatering. hidden store with other people's used stuff? definitely just trash in there. wrong. they've got rare vinyls he's been looking for for ages on auction sites.

there's so many beautiful things he hasn't experienced due to his absurd wealth and i think that's just tragic. i want to see him eat a messy burger from my favorite diner. i want to see him find vintage designer sweaters in thrift stores for five dollars. i want to see him do normal poor person activities.

there is nothing i love more than sylus x an insanely normal person. a man drenched in gold and diamonds and his partner who prefers wearing sweats. a man used to the finest things in life and a partner who is content with common pleasures. delightful.

[orphicmusings]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE au

The four princes from Night and Ice, Sea and Sky

who is your favorite?

[orphicmusings]

Dragon…dragon

[orphicmusings]

i fell into the deep trenches of lads

i'm one month into the game and the lore- THE LORE.

happy birthday, raf.

and oh, i made a lil more for different mc's

[orphicmusings]

notes: oral (f recieving), lemurian breath control, happy bday raf lol

it started out, like things with rafayel often do, as a joke.

it’s the night before his birthday, and you let him convince you to strip down and swim naked in the sea for the first time in your life. he truly is a siren, you think, how easily he can release all the reservations and inhibitions you hold hostage inside of you, how easily he could make you happily bend with a well-timed wink and a saccharine smile.

he literally splashes you out of your thoughts, interrupting the path you intended to swim, glaring daggers at him instead of the wave coming. it takes you under, but before you could even register what’s happening, he’s got you. under you in a heartbeat, holding your body steady as he pushes you upward. you come up through the water with a gasp, both to push air back through your lungs and at his audacity. “you owe me for that.” you chide him breathlessly.

“yeah?” he tilts his head, wearing that sickly sweet smile again and swims closer to you. “watcha want, cutie?”

always so smug, so entertained. what you wouldn’t give to catch him as off guard as he caught you, to have him between your teeth for once. you bite your lip to conceal a smirk, and at least try. “for you to put that mouth to better use.”

a knowing chuckle bubbles from his chest. “that so?”

“yeah…” you tilt your head, mirroring the teasing direction of his. “i mean, it’s not like you need to come up for air much, anyway.”

he doesn’t say anything back. he just grins, all teeth as he raises an eyebrow. he slips underneath the water with a devilish glint in his eyes. you could sense him circling you as a shiver drives up your spine, like you’re just a minnow in a shark’s territory. you can’t help but jump as you suddenly feel his lips on your skin, trailing down your stomach and nipping at the meat of your hips. a gasp leaves your throat as you feel something cold against your legs. squinting through the moon’s light on the water, you see the outline of his tail coiled around you before your ankles are wrapped in his hands as he pushes them upward, forcing your body to float on your back. you flail pathetically, hands reaching for anything to find purchase on. “r-raf…!” you gasp. “this isn’t funny, come up!”

he gives you a moment before gracing you with his face again. “come up? don’t need’a breathe, silly girl.” he throws your own teasing words right back at you in a lower octave than he spoke with before.

“yeah, well i do!” you shout back, panic dissipating as you feel his strong hands hold you down, his tail still anchoring your legs. he may think it’s funny to see you squirm, literally out of your depth, but you trust that he’d never let you get hurt. he flits his gaze upward, pretending to consider something before hooking an arm around you and swimming toward a big rock. he delicately sets you down upon it.

“ironic, isn’t it?” that smug smirk coated his words in honey, teasing you one last time before his mouth is occupied. “the little sailor luring the sea creature down beneath the waves, to his knees…” you sit up as he disappears under the water, trying to make out his shape, but it’s too dark. your heart hammers in anticipation.

he groaned as his tongue finally entered you, the salt of the sea and the taste of you mixing in his mouth to paint something so irrevocably his. home. he would die here.

he couldn’t, but he would. you dug your nails into the rock, back arching as he moaned into you, not letting up his licking and suckling for a second, not even to slip a finger in. you yelp, singing for him so sweetly. he had to come up to see you, he had to see his beloved bride looking like a siren on a rock luring him to his watery grave.

the sight of you on this rock alone made him painfully hard. leaning all your weight back on your elbows, with nothing to protect your skin from bruising. but you didn’t look like you could give a care in the world, not with your bare chest heaving and head tipped to the side. warm droplets of water rolling down the valley between your breasts, stopping short at the swell of your abdomen. the grit of sand and salt in your wet hair, enveloping half of your face in the scent of the beach. your brows furrowed and your eyes blissfully shut while your lips parted wide open. vines of seaweed curled around your calves to keep your legs spread open. it was partly to justify his hands refusing to leave the plush of your thighs, his fingers leaving marks and indentations as if he was sculpting with the finest clay. you painted the very picture of a sailor ruined, the essense of feminine debauchery if there ever was one. he came up just to see you, to admire you with a reverent gaze saved for art itself.

“look like a fuckin’ masterpiece like this…” he breathed against your thighs. “wish i brought my sketchbook. make you pose for me just like this.”

you panted heavily, barely able to talk. “wouldn’t it get wet?”

his gaze drifted between your thighs, then back to yours with a teasing furrow of his brows. “oh, it would have gotten wet regardless.”

[orphicmusings]

nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby

summary: the aftermath of what happened in skyhaven with pre-relationship sylus. hurt/comfort, exploring mc’s 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 what’s left of the aftermath from his fingernails. He looks infuriatingly unaffected. You, however…

“You look like shit.” 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. “Fuck off.” 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.

“I’m not letting you ride back to Linkon like this.” He huffed, handing you his spare helmet, the one that is practically yours at this point. “Spend the night at the base.” Coming from him, it sounded more of a purring command than a gentle suggestion. “Get some beauty sleep.”

You had felt your muscles tense and your heart clenched as you were rapidly reminded of the last time you stayed over someone else’s 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 it’s not like he could exactly traipse into Linkon at the moment to accompany you. Besides, you’ve been fighting alongside him for a while now, and while he has little weaknesses, you’re willing to exploit them if need be. “Alright.” 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. “Don’t ambush the poor girl, she’s beat up.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “I’m not beat up-”

“Come.” He holds his arm out for you, and you defeatedly take it, blindly following wherever he deigns to go.

“My head…” You groaned at the harsh overhead kitchen light being flicked on, rubbing your temples. “Does the big bad mob boss happen to have ibuprofen?”

“I’m not headache proof, believe it or not.” He exhaled a small chuckle. “Sit down.” 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. “What?” He tilts his head, confused, but his tone still holds a hint of safe and familiar teasing. “You think I’m slipping you something?”

Swallowing back those nagging memories again along with the medicine, you force a chuckle. “Can never be sure with a lawless scoundrel like you, can I?”

He grinned, one of those rare smiles of his, toothy and reaching for his ruby eyes. “I may be a lawless scoundrel, sweetheart, but I’m not a monster.”

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. “Can I take a shower?”

His wide grin melted down to his signature smug smirk once again. “In which wing?”

Sylus’s 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 it— 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. “This should fit you.” You ran your hands along the fluffy material, unable to stop touching it. “And could I wash my clothes after-“

“I will.” He assures you with an interruption. “Leave them outside the door. I’ll find something laying around for you to change into so you don’t have to wait for them to dry.” You nodded, not expecting this level of consideration from him. It brings an irritating, fond heat to your cheeks. “Right. Thank you.”

“Just being a good host.” 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. “Um…” Swallow. “Is it okay to keep the door unlocked?” He frowned in confusion, and you quickly added, “It’s the steam. Too much in an enclosed space, I get a headache and I already have one, so I-“

“Okay.” He simply agrees, leaving you no room to over-explain and lie further. You’re almost taken aback with the ease he’s treating you with, but if you think about it, he’s 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.

It’s not what you think it is, you remind yourself as you clench your fist, watching the hot water droplets roll off your knuckles. It’s Caleb. He was trying to protect me…

“No, we’re not doing this right now!” 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 “S” 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 didn’t mind the way the shirt’s 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.

“Sweetie…” A deep voice rumbled up your spine. Sylus.

You’re with Sylus.

The pet name lacked all the familiar playful condescension, more of a brace, a concerned approach to a wild, wounded animal. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t answer at first, your clouded mind still assessing the situation. Your shoulders relax a fraction as you register your surroundings, Sylus’s base. You spent the night here after a hunt. You’re 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. “Sit.” 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 could’ve sworn you’ve never seen before. “I’m going to ask again.” 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 you’ve 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 don’t even try, clenching your fists so tight you’re sure your fingernails would draw blood out of the meat of your palm.

“I can’t tell you…” You murmured, holding back the flood. “Because if I do, it becomes real.”

He frowned, his head tilting to the side slightly. He pushed a soft smile out of the corner of his mouth. “I won’t tell reality if you won’t, sweetheart.”

You exhaled out of your nose shortly, an amused puff of air followed by a sniffle. “No, I’m…it’s serious.”

“I know.” 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. “I’ve noticed.”

You turn to him. “What?”

“You checked the pills I gave you.” He started. “I thought that was a one off, maybe you being extra careful, but then you announced you were gonna shower with the door unlocked-“

You scoffed shakily. “Okay, I didn’t announce-“

“The point is…” He interrupted. “You’ve been…off tonight.”

You don’t know how to answer. You know that at this point, if you open your mouth, the tears will start free falling.

“You don’t have to explain.” Fuck him for always reading your mind. “But you just need to tell me you’re alright. No guest feels unsafe under this roof.”

“It’s not you.” You assure shakily, resting your chin on your knees. “It’s…a long story.”

He nodded, accepting again. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Um…” 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. “Remember about three weeks ago I went to Skyhaven?”

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 ‘Yes, kitten, I’m so bad,’ but it doesn’t 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 I’ve 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 it’s precious gold.

“Sweetie…” He looks at you as if the sight of your face twisted in tears makes him violently ache. “Don’t cry.”

Which of course, makes you cry more. He closes the distance between you within a second, pulling you into his side. “I’m trying not to.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He whispers gently, rubbing his thumb over your bare shoulder, the collar of his shirt hanging off of you. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

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 it’s not really him based on zero evidence?

His thumb stopped its soothing rhythm. “He what?”

You cringe and stammer. You feel caught, for some irrational reason. “I-I know what it sounds like, but-”

“No.” He shook his head, his tone still soft but firm. “No, you don’t have to protect him.” He has to bite back the snarl in his voice, fight to keep his words gentle. “Not after he does this…” He wipes a tear from your cheek, his fingers lingering on the skin for a moment. “Not after he does this to you.” His voice shakes alongside yours, for different reasons. “You don’t need to tell me anything more, but you don’t protect him, either.”

You look up at him, drawing in a deep breath. It makes you realize that’s exactly what you’ve 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 Caleb’s abnormal behavior flipping like a switch makes you doubt it was fully him that did this to you. Even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t mean it didn’t affect you so deeply that you’re crying into the arms of the person you’d least expect. You watch his fists clench. “He didn’t…” A hesitation. “He didn’t touch you, did he?”

You vehemently shake your head and you could hear a small breath of relief. “It wasn’t like that.” You go to explain again, to defend him, but stop yourself. “It was so scary.” He breathes a deep sigh, tightening his arms around you.

“I know.” He whispers. “I know, sweet girl, but you were brave.”

You scoff tearfully. “No I wasn’t.”

“You’re here.” He pointed out, brushing his hand through your hair. “Not there. I know your prowess firsthand.”

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 you’re 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.

“I’ve got you.” He whispers into your hair. Your head is atop his chest, laying down now. Your eyes are closed, and he can tell you’ve cried yourself to sleep. “Always have. Always will.”

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. Name’s 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. It’s quiet now, the only sound surrounding him are your soft breaths and Mephisto’s caws into the night as he suddenly takes a trip up north.

[orphicmusings]

made an x to hopefully get more involved with the lads community!!

[orphicmusings]

i have a love hate relationship with this crow 🐦‍⬛

[orphicmusings]

i just love love and deepspace so much because the writers inadvertently subvert what is arguably the most popular trope in romance right now that is absolutely plaguing the genre: the callous, cold, (borderline) abusive mafia boss/bad boy/criminal of some kind. sylus is, at first glance, expected to follow all the ten booktok commandments of this trope, like he looks like what you’re supposed to picture when these books are brought up. he comes into the story mysterious, curt, domineering, almost to lull you into an expectation of where this is going. you’ve seen this before, it’s the most popular romance trope of the decade after all, the red flag booktok biker bad boy.

but instead, within literally a few chapters, he is so fucking tender. he is the most emotionally secure out of all the love interests. he looks at our character with nothing but absolute softness and warmth in his eyes. he is ruthless and he is a killer, but our character will know absolutely nothing but gentleness with him from here on out. even canonically in the bedroom, too, what you would expect from this booktok bad boy archetype is a dominant man who relies on violent and/or misogynistic sexual beliefs to fulfill his pleasure; but instead he submits, maybe not in the way you’re thinking of, but he truly gives himself over to our character, all of him on a silver platter. he’s a one woman man (for centuries), constantly asking for confirmation, going slowly with gentle hands, taking the time to imprint nothing but love and care with them. he’s secure in his masculinity, not possessive, protective yes but still knows and trusts that his lover can handle herself. in fact, loves the fact that she can handle herself, especially when up against him. (the man is canonically a bratty sub and i will die on that hill but that’s neither here nor there.)

sylus is the breath of fresh air that the heterosexual genre of romance media desperately needs.

[orphicmusings]

this reminds me of one of my favorite quotes of his: who could ever do anything to me except you?

when you return to yourself and your body goes limp, one hand still wrapped in chains keeping yourself up; he runs to you. you’re all hazy eyes and heavy breathing, and you don’t know much— but you see red on his neck and you just know it was because of you.

before you could even mutter incoherent apologies, he has one arm around you, the other undoing the cuff around your wrist. you start crying, out of confusion, out of fear, out of exhaustion— the fact that you hurt him. “don’t cry, sweetie.” he mutters in your ear, heart absolutely breaking. he runs his hand up and down your back soothingly. “it’s okay, you’re back now, it’s alright.”

and it just makes you cry more because you’re the one who hurt him, and while he could certainly handle himself, you should be the one comforting him in this scenario. you tuck your head into his chest and mumble sporadic apologies, eyes trained on the pink blooming around his neck, blood blisters peppering his skin just right his adam’s apple. “this, honey?” he asks you as senses your gaze, pointing to where you must have attempted to bite. he cracks a small smile, his ruby eyes gentle and warm. “this is nothing, my love. it didn’t even hurt.”

he has a higher pain tolerance than you do, you know that, but it still pains you to look at even such a minor wound and know you do it to him. “i’m sorry.” you said once more as he wipes your tears gently off of your cheeks. “i hurt you.”

he shook his head, both of you knowing he would do this every night if he had to. “who could ever do anything to me except for you?”

what if mc is the one that gets into a frenzy and sylus is the one that has to calm her down 👀

imagine mc chained and baring her teeth at him, trying to lauch her body to knock him down and sylus is in pain at watching her.

[orphicmusings]

Sylus has so easily demonstrated the sheer power of his abilities and Evol, and yet he still chooses to be so gentle with you as he so chooses and pleases. Sure, sometimes he's a jerk to get a kick out of it, but oh is he tender. A man who could crush the world with the flick of his wrist, with the snap of his fingers, and those same fingers brush over your face, take your hand to bring your knuckles to his lips. He kisses so softly for a man who kills.

[orphicmusings]

i know its a goon event but who am i if i dont make everything deep

i only have sylus & zayne’s cards so far but i noticed for both of them (hopefully for all 5 too, if others can share about raf, xav & caleb’s cards) their activators are located in places that represent their vulnerabilities.

sylus’s is in his eye, the man who has been pointed and looked at, seen and percieved wrong through his lives, so much that at first he’s scared of us seeing him, of truly knowing him until mc eventually melts his icy exterior (it didn’t take that long, really) and he doesn’t mind being seen in a way that he can’t control anymore, by a new narrative instead of the one he’s been so used to.

zayne’s is between his thighs which yeah its funny but makes so much sense when you think about it. he’s so terrified of losing control, he has to have a tight grip on the reins all waking hours of the day. he cannot let himself go for anything, and that’s shown in absolute zeal when he expresses how mc is making everything fall apart and how “affected” he is by his desires toward her.

[orphicmusings]

when will the lads community discuss that sylus isnt the booktok red flag dom daddy everyone wants him to be but is actually a BRAT

[orphicmusings]

Height difference appreciation post

It can be an inconvenience but nevertheless!! Kittens are supposed to be small and cute after all

[orphicmusings]

anyone else wanna lick whipped cream off of sylus’s big broad titties while hes tied down and breathing heavily

[orphicmusings]

boyfriend who’s so in love with you and gets hard the minute you ask him for his opinion on the dress you’re going to wear out for dinner and tries to resist the urge to fuck you right then and there (you knew this would happen; you called in advance to have the restaurant push the reservation back an hour and a half)

[orphicmusings]

judecardan matching eachother's FREAKUENCY

🎨: gracer studios