inkblogfortress

Latest Posts by inkblogfortress

𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐖, 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐄 [ street racer!sylus for @dissociativewriter ]

Speaking of hot...

Sylus' silhouette hello like the fucking shoulder to waist ratio???

whenever new sylus content comes out in game it all just further solidifies the fact that he's so much more than the typical 'morally grey villain’ love interest people could easily write him off as. i always find myself reminded of the fact that he’s not only such a well written character but a really good lover. 

he makes sure mc/the player is well fed before he starts to eat, he makes it a point to get her favorite drink for her when they meet up. when she challenges him he matches her energy, when she wants to do something he always indulges her and goes along with her plans. 

alternatively, when she doesn’t want to do something—even if he thinks it’s good for her or he would prefer for it to happen—if she says no then the answer is no. like while his first instinct was to kill the old lady who stabbed her during the zoion hunt he backed off when she told him to. he bandaged her up with care and didn’t simmer in his own anger or try to contradict her wishes like other depictions of that genre of man might have.

they play video games together. he fist bumps her when she does a cool move to shoot down their enemies. he’s trying to become a better singer so she’ll like it when he sings for her. he says the soul is one of the most precious gifts given to humanity and implies that she makes up half of his. he wants to help her become strong enough to protect herself. he says their connection transcends current circumstance and repeats constantly that their lives are bound together.

everything sylus has done previously was in preparation to meet her. everything he does currently is working towards having a future with her. when instinct and base desire tell him to devour her, take her strength and be rid of the power she has over him, he doesn’t give in. and with the hints to more of their past lore it seems like in each lifetime he’s stuck in a never ending cycle of having to kill her or be killed by her again and again, yet he persists.

he's the type of man i personally want to work towards deserving and i'm coming to understand how i've accidentally mischaracterised him in the past. i think i could write as many fics about him as i liked, but i would never do him justice.

Share with you my precious collection of his smirks🫰🏻♥️✨

Amid an industry in flux, Interview With The Vampire’s Sam Reid shares why he still believes in the arts x

░ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐒 ⠀   Updated: 2025-04-22

Here's a compilation of helpful Love and Deepspace combat-related guides and resources that I recommend checking out!

Items marked with 🐚 are authored/managed by yours truly.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥── .✦

🐚 Orbit Stellactrum Spreadsheet by Lumina

Game Vocab for Pipsqueaks by CFC

Memories for Pipsqueaks by CFC

Memory Ascension Calculator by Kaeda

Damage Calculator by Aiko

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬── .✦

Protocores for Pipsqueaks by CFC

Protocore Basics by DSV

🐚 Main Stat and Substat Values Spreadsheet by Lumina

🐚 Decompose vs. Feed, Exp and Gold Numbers by Lumina

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲── .✦

Claymore Guide (video) by Shattered-Earth

🐚 Claymore Dash Stacking (clip) by Lumina

Claymore Stacks While Circling A Boss (clip) by Beans

🐚 Frenzy Guide by Lumina

🐚 Luminivore Strategies by Lumina

Shh. Be a good girl and stay quiet.

"Have you never dreamed of me?"

"Before I was sealed away, I did dream of you."

The flower petals have carried you into this dragon's dreams.

Then this dragon will wait every night longing for the wind and petals to arrive.

🫡🫡🫡

Credit: @/chadetteisgiga on Twitter

Happy birthday to the best dragon boi~ I originally just drew one... but then I somehow found myself drawing 9 what happened 😂

Eternal Flowers

Myth + Little Red Flower text message + ⭐️⭐️⭐️ memory Taking Control

中文版

a mimir

“How words came out like canaries, summer fruit in the dead of winter. They were all in love with him.”

I finished the first part of my Lestat page, enjoy!

Kitty Sylus doodle in between comms 😼

Credits artist @wengwengchim

via DSV_Guides on X - our lovely Deepspace Voyagers Team (aka Gem & Gurus team)

Protocore Basics Guide

https://x.com/dsv_guides/status/1819262285007016114?s=46&t=E--mYAhoHyWN-Kup-yWiBA

"21 days is more than enough time for someone to develop a new habit.." 🍒 - making it the perfect time for you to learn how to build your protocores! 🤫

(1) Protocore rarities are determined by the underlining colour of the protocore. 🔵🟣🟡

If you are a gamer, you should be able to understand them easily as they follows the general understanding of colours and rarity (i.e. Blue < Purple < Gold)

(2) Solar and Lunar Memories each use different protocores, all of which hold different exclusive Main Stats.

Understanding which main stat you should prioritise is important!

(3) Big words on the protocores stressing you out? 😖

Fret not! Here's what each of the stats mean and what they actually do.

(4) Build your protocores through enhancements!

Protocores can be enhanced using other protocores (also known as 'feeding') or Core Energy.

Don't forget to 'decompose' unused protocores to get Core Energy!

(5) Your objectives when it comes to protocore building are highly dependent on whether you're early game, mid game or end game.

Note: This is in reference to your progress in the battle content and NOT on your Hunter level.

(6) We categorise protocore builds into 2 types:

Crit: Focuses on building CRIT Rate and CRIT DMG stats.

Weakness: Focuses on building DMG Boost to Weakened stats.

The type of build you choose should depend on what stage you are clearing or what you are trying to achieve.

(7) Protocore building can be tricky, but it doesn't have to be! 😌

Here are some additional points that you should take note of when it comes to choosing which protocore to use and level.

Happy building! 🌟

If you liked this guide and want to join a community with other Love and Deepspace players, please check out https://discord.gg/ladhotel

Spa day with dragon sylus

(As I impatiently wait for his new card)

Cupping their faces

Sylus can finally be added to the face cupping club😫😫and now he's finally held our face too

They just look SO soft whenever we touch their faces🥺🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻they're all so touch starved and so in loooove

The Kiss

Sleepy babies

Full nudity on Twitter & Bluesky >> @ekaymnslvs

look,it could be a stress ball

Every day at our base starts the same way

I wanted to make drawing in color, but I was too lazy😞

Kindly reminder for all kittens☺️ Preparation before a short trip

LaDS proposals

Caleb

Caleb had been planning this for a long time. He wanted the moment to be perfect—not in an extravagant, flashy way, but in a way that would settle deep in your bones, something you’d look back on and know, without a doubt, that this had always been meant to be.

That’s why he brought you here—to your hometown, to the orchard you had always spoken of so fondly. He remembered the way your eyes softened every time you mentioned it, the way your voice took on a nostalgic lilt when you talked about running between the rows of trees as a child, plucking fruit straight from the branches.

He wanted that warmth in this moment. He wanted you to feel safe. To feel home.

The sun was low in the sky, painting the orchard in golden hues as you walked beside him. The crisp scent of apples lingered in the air, mingling with the fading warmth of the afternoon. The place was quiet, the only sound the rustling leaves in the soft breeze.

You had no idea what was coming. To you, this was just another moment with Caleb—another stolen day spent in each other’s presence, another memory added to the collection of so many others. You talked about small things, the way you always did. He listened, the way he always did. And then, just as you turned to grab another apple from a low-hanging branch, you noticed he had stopped walking.

He was just looking at you.

Something about his gaze made your breath catch—a quiet intensity, something heavy and knowing.

Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He didn’t open it right away. Instead, he let the weight of the moment settle between you, like he was memorizing this exact second before it changed everything.

"Marry me."

His voice was steady, deep, sure—just like the way he had always loved you. No grand speech, no unnecessary words. Just the truth.

You stared at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and overwhelming emotion. The orchard, the golden light, the crisp air—it all felt dreamlike. And Caleb, standing there with absolute certainty in his eyes, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, made it feel even more unreal.

He smirked at your stunned silence, tilting his head slightly. "You’re thinking too much," he teased, his voice softer now. "Just say yes."

And you did.

The moment the word left your lips, Caleb was already slipping the ring onto your finger. His hands were warm, steady, reverent—like he was claiming something that had always been his. When he straightened, his expression shifted into something more serious, something deeper. He lifted a hand, brushing his thumb over your cheek, his touch as familiar as the sun against your skin.

"You were always going to be mine," he murmured. "This just makes sure the whole world knows it."

Then he kissed you, slow and lingering, as the orchard around you bore silent witness to a love that had already lasted lifetimes.

Rafayel

The exhibition was a roaring success. Patrons mingled, their voices a steady hum of admiration as they analyzed each of Rafayel’s pieces. Collectors hovered near the most sought-after works, ready to pounce the moment bidding opened. Thomas was practically buzzing with excitement, hands wrung together in a mixture of pride and sheer stress.

And yet, Rafayel—his name on every tongue, his work the heart of the event—was barely paying attention.

Because tonight wasn’t just about art.

At the far end of the gallery, hidden beneath a dark velvet cloth, stood the final and most highly anticipated piece. Whispers had floated through the crowd all evening—what was it? Why was it concealed? Even Thomas, despite his best efforts, hadn’t managed to pry the secret from Rafayel.

Now, as the evening neared its end, Rafayel finally stepped forward. The chatter died down. Eyes turned to him, waiting. With a slow, deliberate motion, he grasped the edge of the cloth and pulled it away.

A collective gasp echoed through the room.

There, larger than life, was you.

Rendered in strokes of light and shadow, the painting captured you in a way that was almost unreal—your expression soft yet luminous, as if you were caught in the golden glow of a setting sun. Every detail had been meticulously crafted, the kind of care only an artist deeply, utterly enamored could pour into his work. It was breathtaking. A love letter in color.

People murmured their admiration, but before anyone could approach him—before even you could gather your thoughts—Rafayel’s hand found yours. His fingers curled around your wrist, and without a word, he was pulling you through the crowd.

"Excuse us," he murmured in passing, his voice smooth, his grip firm.

By the time you caught up with reality, you were tucked away in a quiet alcove, far from the noise of the event. The air between you buzzed with something electric, something unspoken.

Then Rafayel turned to you, his expression different now—unguarded, almost vulnerable.

"Do you know why I painted that?" His voice was quieter, steadier.

You barely had time to respond before he was sinking to one knee.

Your breath caught.

"Because I wanted the world to see you the way I do. To know how extraordinary you are." His thumb traced absent circles against the back of your hand. "But the truth is, no painting, no brushstroke, no color could ever do you justice."

He pulled out a ring—simple, elegant, but full of meaning.

"So let me try another way. Marry me."

The world outside the alcove continued on—patrons still admiring, still discussing, still caught up in the whirlwind of Rafayel’s talent. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

Just him. Just you.

And when you whispered yes, his smirk returned—bright, victorious, so unmistakably him. Rising, he pulled you into his arms, spinning you once before pressing his forehead to yours.

"Took you long enough," he teased, though his voice was thick with something more. "But I suppose I’ll forgive you, seeing as you’re mine now."

And that night, beneath the glow of his greatest masterpiece, Rafayel kissed you as if sealing a promise written not in paint—but in forever.

Sylus

Sylus is not a man who does anything by chance, least of all something as significant as a proposal. He is meticulous, strategic—he plans everything several steps ahead, ensuring every detail is exactly as he wants it. But when it comes to you, there’s always something unpredictable, something that makes him act on instinct in a way he never does with anyone else.

Would he get down on one knee? Hardly. That isn’t his style. No, his proposal wouldn’t be traditional, and certainly not something soft or overly sentimental. It would be something undeniably Sylus—intimate, deliberate, and laced with the kind of smug confidence that says he already knows your answer.

Perhaps it happens after a night spent tangled up in each other, your body still warm from his, your breath still catching from the way he had claimed you again and again. You're resting against him, exhaustion pressing into your limbs, when you feel his fingers trace lazily over your wrist, then up to your ring finger, as if measuring it. His touch is light, almost absentminded—until he speaks.

"Mm. Looks good bare, but I think it’d look better with something permanent, don’t you?"

Your breath stills, your drowsy mind catching up to his words. He isn’t asking; he’s stating. And when you lift your head to look at him, he’s watching you with that insufferable, knowing smirk—amused by your reaction, by the way your heartbeat stutters just slightly against him.

"Oh, don’t look so surprised, darling. You had to know this was coming." His voice is smooth, low, dangerous in its certainty.

He wouldn’t do anything grand or public—he doesn’t need the spectacle, nor does he want anyone else to be involved in something so his. Instead, he might slip a ring onto your finger when you least expect it—over dinner in a private setting, during one of his possessive moments when his hands are already on you, or even as he pulls you into his lap in his office, his red eyes gleaming in the low light.

"Marry me," he’d murmur against your skin, lips brushing the shell of your ear, as if the words themselves were a promise laced with something darker. And then, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze, he’d add, "It’s not a request."

Because Sylus doesn’t ask for things he already considers his.

Xavier

Xavier’s proposal would be deeply personal, understated, but undeniably meaningful—the kind of moment that feels so completely him, you couldn’t imagine it happening any other way. He isn’t one for grand gestures or dramatic speeches, but when he decides to ask you, it’s because he’s already certain. There is no hesitation. Just the quiet, unwavering knowledge that you are the person he wants to spend his life with.

He wouldn't make a big show of planning something elaborate. Instead, he'd find a moment that feels right—a moment where it’s just the two of you, where the air between you is soft and familiar, where he can say what he needs to without pretense.

Maybe it happens after a long day together—one of those ordinary but perfect days where nothing extravagant happened, but it felt right. Maybe you’re watching the sky together, lying on a rooftop, or sitting side by side on the couch while music plays softly in the background. There’s a sense of quiet intimacy, of complete comfort. And that’s when he does it.

There’s no nervous build-up, no grand speech. He just reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing over the ring he’s been carrying for who-knows-how-long, waiting for the right moment. And then, simply, he takes your hand, running his fingers over your knuckles before slipping something cool and solid into your palm.

"Marry me."

It’s not a question. It’s a statement—soft, certain, completely sincere. His blue eyes watch you, unreadable yet so incredibly open at the same time. There’s no doubt in them, no fear of rejection—just trust. Trust that you already know how much he loves you, that words could never fully encompass it.

If you’re too shocked to answer right away, he doesn’t press. He lets you process, still holding your hand in his. But the moment you say yes, the relief is so visible in the way his shoulders relax, in the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath without realizing it. And then, without hesitation, he kisses you—deep and slow, like he’s sealing a promise with something far more meaningful than words.

Because for Xavier, the proposal was never about the moment itself. It was always about you. About the fact that choosing you was never a question—only an inevitability.

Zayne

The restaurant was softly lit, the golden glow of the chandeliers reflecting off polished silverware and half-full wine glasses. It was the kind of place where conversations were murmured, where time felt slower, where the world outside didn’t seem to exist for a little while.

Zayne had chosen this place on purpose. You had been here before—together. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was elegant, refined, private enough that he could look at you across the table and know that this moment belonged to just the two of you.

Dinner had been slow and unhurried, filled with easy conversation and the occasional teasing remark from him, just enough to make you roll your eyes and smile. He had been the same as always—calm, composed, his presence steady in the way that always made you feel anchored. But there was something different tonight, a weight in the air, in the way his gaze lingered on you longer than usual, as if he were memorizing something only he could see.

The plates had been cleared now, the remnants of dessert sitting between you, but he hadn’t moved to ask for the check. Instead, he sat back slightly, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass, his hazel-green eyes fixed on you with quiet deliberation.

“I’ve been thinking about something.”

His voice was even, measured, but there was something in the way he spoke that made you pause, your fingers tightening around your napkin slightly.

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering his own words before continuing.

“Every time we come here, every time I sit across from you like this, I realize I could do this forever.”

The words were simple, spoken as if they were fact rather than sentiment. And then, just as effortlessly, he reached into the pocket of his coat, pulling out a small velvet box and setting it between you on the table. He didn’t open it, didn’t rush the moment—he just let it sit there, like the weight of the truth he was offering.

His gaze never wavered.

“Marry me.”

Two words. No hesitation. No elaborate speech or trembling hands. Just certainty.

Your breath caught, your pulse stuttering in your throat. For a moment, the world around you disappeared—the murmured voices, the soft clink of glasses, the gentle piano in the background. There was only Zayne, watching you with that unwavering patience, waiting for an answer he already knew.

And when you whispered, "Yes," his expression didn’t change immediately. But there was a shift—something almost imperceptible, a quiet exhale, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough for you to notice.

He took your hand, careful and deliberate, his fingers brushing over your knuckles before sliding the ring onto your finger. His touch was steady, as if sealing something unspoken between you.

And then, just before he leaned back, just before the world resumed its pace around you, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing the softest kiss against your fingers.

A quiet kind of forever. Just like him.

Abyssal Chaos Final Farewell

He’s literally like my safe space character 🥹

did you sleep well?

lovesick!sylus who always buys you the things you want without you telling him. if you pass by a store and point out something in a window with an excited “cute!”, he already has the shop name listed down in his head.

lovesick!sylus who loves putting a smile on your face. whether it be with gifts or actions. everytime you show up to onychinus, he always has something for you. “i saw it in passing. i thought you’d like it.” he shrugs it off. you knew he was lying but you went along with it anyway.

lovesick!sylus who never lets you pay for anything when you’re with him. “i have my own money, you know.” you’d say to which he usually responds with a curt “save it for when you actually need it.”

lovesick!sylus who absolutely hates when you leave on a mission for days on end with no contact. he ends up sending mephisto to keep an eye on you for him, unbeknownst to you. he’s sure you can handle whatever missions the association gives you, he just gets worried when you can’t contact him.

lovesick!sylus who one day sees you at onychinus spending time with the twins, playing games with them and having fun.

lovesick!sylus who watches you silently from the doorway as you chase the twins with the widest smile on his face. it wasn’t until you bumped into him that you even knew he was there.

“oh! sylus! welcome back.” you’d say, breathlessly. he couldn’t help but chuckle. “help me find the twins, yeah? they convinced me to play some kind of hide and seek tag hybrid game.”

lovesick!sylus who couldn’t ever find it in himself to tell you no. how could he deny you when you had the biggest grin on your face? “alright. i’ll help you.” he said, laughing as you jumped up and squealed.

“okay! i think luke went that way and kieran went the other way! i’ll go look for luke!” you said before scurrying off.

lovesick!sylus who would usually think playing children’s games was beneath him, but he found himself letting go and actually having fun.

lovesick!sylus who found himself wound up in a closet again, his limbs tangled with yours as you tried to keep quiet. it was the twins’ turn to find you and you ran to sylus, dragging him to the first spot you could think of.

you were peeking out from the door of the closet, panting very softly as you were catching your breath. sylus couldn’t take his eyes off you. the carefree joy that your features held warmed his heart.

lovesick!sylus who pulled you back in carefully as soon as he heard one of the twins near the room. he’d meant to keep you quiet, but he couldn’t stop himself from whispering a small, “i love you,” and kiss you.

lovesick!sylus who chuckled upon being found with a loud “gross, boss!” from luke as he found the two of you kissing. “the things you’ve done to me are unfounded.” he said to you, smiling.