unstablemiss

Latest Posts by unstablemiss

The story of how I fell for this pixel chalk man is pretty funny ngl- I was writing voicelines for my OC Avalie and my best friend saw them and went 🤨 damn Albedo's voiceline seems really detailed. Cute. Is there smth going on there? (There wasn't)

And then I went huh uk what? He's not bad

And then I exploded, as one does. Now I am a full time Albedo lover 🌝

bro.... bro is so beautiful..... bro...........

Proof of my imperfection as a human. ✦

18/100

Time: 3 hours

Art by Dongni Hou

the old cistern beneath the flood control system

Nice lives au where Lin ling saved his life by talking him out of suicide and Lin ling became Nice's "emotional support civilian"

Ms. J: what the-? Nice you cant bring a civilian here?!

Nice: this is my emotional support civilian if you take him i will kill myself

He asked for no pickles

It’s been so long…..

I mustn’t run away

Don't mind me here while I explode

// cn server spoilers, luke top up card

EVERYBODY BE QUIET AND LOOK AT MY BOY

The one to survive

҉ ⁀➷ 𝑺𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑭𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑺

╰ 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃 LOVE AND DEEPSPACE: SPRING AND FLOWERS

sometimes we (i) forgot

Pretty pretty eyes omg

Updating my old illustration of the boys with Caleb 🍎

Caleb 100% does the silliest things to cheer up MC and has absolutely no shame about any of them

Even as a teenager, when other boys were too proud and insecure, he danced about the kitchen singing a song out of tune at the top of his lungs because his pipsqueak had a bad day at school

When MC was teased because she couldn't do makeup as a young teen, he practiced with her until she was good at it, letting himself be the guinea pig

He writes her notes and leave them around the house to cheer her up, usually with really bad little doodles that she doesn't have the heart to tell him are terrible (he knows, it's deliberate)

She fell in a puddle at the park just before her hs graduation and she was mortified because she put in such an effort to look good and now had to walk home covered in mud. Caleb doesn't hesitate and deliberately falls in afterwards so they're equally muddy together

He has a running joke, where he'd make more and more weird faces at her until she laughed - now, he only has to make one before she bursts out laughing no matter how down she is

Caleb's priority is always MC's wellbeing - he loves her so much, too much to bother about things like what people think of him when her opinion is all that matters 😭

Cooked up smth on my other blog teehee

This has all my art and writing! Also where I go insane over Caleb (more to come soon I SWEAR ONCE I AM FREEEEE)

Finally decided to draw my OC Avalie in the LaDS AU my best friend and I are cooking up haha- I'd long promised my friends I'd be redesigning her outfit to match the game but kept putting it off and had had enough yesterday!!!

Chat, you are warned- deciding to do a 'simple' sketch while you are being crushed by five million other MORE important things to do is a folly. Your brain will try to tell you this, too. Listen to it at your own risk.

Anyways, I had so so SO much fun with this! Planning to render this differently from my other artworks, so let's see how that goes! For now, have this cutie!

Her name's Avalie Sattari (the last name means star, totally NOT related to how she wanted to belong to the same skies that called Caleb away from her nosiree) and she's a pun-making menace with a heart of gold! Said heart of gold also makes her beat people up but hey atleast she looks cute while doing it (even if she comes back injured to the annoyance of her gege)

ALSO PEEK THE LITTLE STICKERS HEHE TOTALLY NOT INFLUENCED BY MY BIASES HERE NOPE (hell the sweatshirt she's wearing is a dead giveaway if the apples around her weren't enough lmao)

There's also little duckies!!! I love my drama queen bbg Rafayel :D he and I are menaces and that is how it should be!!!!

Had this idea of peeling an apple in my journal and thought it suited Caleb very well🥺🍎🍏✨

One day we will meet under the stars again

Day 33

Last god of the sea

Day 34

Childhood trio Pt. Ominous positivity

MC: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it.

Caleb: Everything will be fine. You have no choice.

Zayne: What kind of pep talk is that?

Caleb: Ominous positivity.

Me whenever I post anything anywhere (unless I forget then I remember it after five billion business years)

me: I write for myself, not validation

also me after posting a fic *refreshes ao3 every five minutes*

(two things can be true)

Me whenever I post anything anywhere (unless I forget then I remember it after five billion business years)

me: I write for myself, not validation

also me after posting a fic *refreshes ao3 every five minutes*

(two things can be true)

Ummm so this hurt like five billion times more 😁 I hate it when people have plans and the other people involved in said plans die/ disappear, ya know? Like wow, what a way to be rude?

Falling into you

pairing: Caleb x reader

summary: Caleb was always there, but now, something’s changed. He’s different. You’re different. But neither of you can name it. Not yet.

word count: 4.8k

author's note: this is my first post in lads. Grammar mistakes? fuck i'd cry(but tell me, anyways). Also, I wrote it a little different. But, I mean, can you handle reliving the trauma you carry about Caleb? It is sweet though, ha.. The tension is intense. You better see it. Squint. Drown. Whatever you do. You better feel the tension.

The best part about growing up with your childhood friend is that you never have to explain yourself. You have someone who’s seen you throw tantrums and fall apart, someone who’s laughed at your worst haircut and stayed up with you through exam stress and friendship heartbreak. They know every embarrassing detail—every weakness—each tiny cross.

And if they’re still by your side after all that, they’re more than just loyal.

They’re home.

And when someone feels like home, you don’t question it. Not the comfort. Not the closeness. Not even the way your heart slows when they look at you like you're the only person in the room. Because it's always been this way.

Until one day, you do question it.

Because Caleb feels different somehow. It’s like watching someone you’ve known your whole life move through a dream—familiar, but just out of reach. You don’t recognize him through his expressions or the way his voice sounds deeper now.

You recognize him through your memories. Through the echo of every moment that once made you feel safe.

And now, he feels like both. Familiar and unfamiliar. Comfortable and unsettling.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, brush paused mid-stroke, and say out loud, “This is normal. A very normal thing to happen. We’re now grown-ups, afterall”.

Your voice sounds flat. Unconvincing. One glance at your face and anyone could see—you’re lying to yourself. You don’t believe it for a second.

It’s confusing. It’s disorienting. But that’s okay.

Because the readers of your story? They already know what’s coming. This is your laughable, syncronising, and heart wrenching canon event.

The chapter where you realize you’ve fallen in love with your childhood friend. (Like Caleb hasn’t been manifesting it for years.)

Stage One: Blind Spot

"You know, it’s sort of weird…” you say, tearing the wrapper off a bar of chocolate, letting the crinkle fill the comfortable silence of the kitchen.

Caleb’s back is to you.

He stands near the stove, shoulders relaxed but still carrying that quiet strength that never leaves him—even when he’s home. His blue shirt clings just right, outlining the sharp taper of his waist, the sculpted lines of his back, still faintly damp from a recent shower. The scent of soap and smoke and something so distinctly him lingers in the air between you.

He doesn’t turn. Doesn’t need to.

“Mmm? What is?” he murmurs, focused on his task—cutting mushrooms with those clean, practiced movements. Precise. Calm. Familiar.

He’s making Baoshao mushrooms—your favorite. Of course he is.

You lean in beside him, your hip brushing the counter as you scan the ingredients. Everything’s arranged perfectly, like always. Banana leaves, fresh garlic, spices. Your eyes catch on a small heap of cilantro and you blink.

“You’re using cilantro,” you say slowly. “But you hate cilantro.”

He chuckles, low and unbothered. Then he shifts his weight and rests his elbow on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world—like you don’t feel your skin tingle every time he does it.

“But you love it, don’t you?”

You bite off a piece of chocolate, staring him down. “I do not like it.”

“No?” he says, sounding almost amused.

“I don’t like you being selfless,” you mutter.

That gets him.

He pauses, knife hovering mid-air, then glances at you with that half-lidded expression he does so well. Calm, unreadable. Dangerous.

You frown and turn to reach for the cilantro, but his hand wraps around your waist before your fingers can touch it. In one smooth movement, he turns you toward him, pressing you back against the counter.

And you’re caught. Trapped.

Your breath stutters.

His arms on either side of you, body close enough that you feel the heat rising off him in slow waves. His scent fills your lungs—citrus and cedarwood and something deeper, something you can’t name. Your heart pounds, your hands still gripping the chocolate like a lifeline.

This isn’t how brothers hold. This isn’t how they look at you.

“C’mon, pipsqueak,” he says, eyes locked on yours. His voice is low, almost teasing—but there’s a flicker beneath it. “What’s this sudden concern for?”

He leans in, and you forget how to breathe. “You’re getting my hopes up,” he whispers, eyes dropping to your lips.

Your stomach flips. Hopes up…?

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because he leans in even closer, dips his head—and takes a bite out of your chocolate bar. His lips brush your fingers, and his tongue, careless and warm, lingers for half a second too long against your thumb.

You freeze.

Then, like always, Caleb steps back. Unbothered. Calm. Like he didn’t just dismantle your nervous system with one touch.

“You get dramatic when you’re hungry,” he says, reaching for the banana leaves like the conversation never happened.

You stand there, blinking. Chocolate still in your hand. Pulse thundering in your ears. Something in your chest trying very hard to make sense of what just happened—and failing.

Because Caleb is just Caleb.

He’s always been there. Always been your home.

Your friend.

Your brother-but-not-by-blood.

But that look in his eyes just now? That warmth in your stomach?

It felt like something else.

And that part of you that leaned into it, just a little, just for a second? That part is louder than ever.

Still… it’s probably nothing. A weird blip in the system. You’re not the type to get emotional anyway.

Right?

Stage two: The flicker of Awareness

The thing about bad days is… you don’t always see them coming. They don’t crash into you like a wave. They seep. Slow and quiet. A missed text. A stupid argument. A little silence that lingers too long and starts to sting. By the time you realize something’s wrong, it’s already settled into your chest like fog.

You hadn’t planned to go outside today. Not after the fight with your best friend. Not after pretending to be okay all day. But a certain extrovert with full energy had shown up anyway. No warning. No questions. Just a casual knock, and a stupid smile.

Might wanna read the room, Caleb? You were in dumps!

Sigh.

The air was thick and warm, full of sugar and smoke and the sound of other people’s joy. It should’ve been nice. It might’ve been, if you hadn’t felt so off in your own skin.

“Ugh, it’s too hot,” you muttered, half-hoping he’d hear your misery.

But Caleb didn’t answer. You turned your head and suddenly—a ridiculous red sun hat flopped down over your eyes. It looked goofy, you looked exactly like a kid tailing with an adult.

Before you could protest, he pulled out a bright floral jacket from his bag.

“Nope. Not wearing that,” you said, backing away.

He just grinned. “Fine by me,” he said, draping the absurd thing over himself. “You gotta protect yourself against the sun in this weather, or you are making yourself into a heating pan to fry an egg.” The floral jacket, didn't even fit him. But, Caleb managed to look like he was content with it.

“You’re insane,” you muttered, trying not to smile.

“But you’re smiling,” he said, without looking at you.

He always notices.

Somewhere between the games and the food, the ache in your chest loosened. It didn’t vanish—but it dulled. Like maybe, for a few hours, you could just be someone who didn’t have things falling apart at the edges.

It was just you and Caleb enjoying the peak of being an adult. And that’s obviously playing unlimited gamed without the supervision of a greater adult!

Before you know it, it’s evening and despite a deeper darkness seeking-in, there were still a lot of people in the fair.

"Caleb, hurry!", you excitedly, call for him. Yet, when you turn around you see him no where around you. “Oh, no.”

You had somehow, lost him.

One second he was beside you, making some dumb joke about winning you a plushie. The next—gone. Swallowed by the crowd. You turned too quickly, panicked too fast, and ended up bumping into a stranger. Their heel slammed into your foot, hard.

You winced, hobbling back and tried to breathe.

And, as you find a place with a lesser crowd, you looked down.

The strap on your sandal had snapped.

And your toe—bleeding.

Of course.

You stared at it, teeth clenched. Embarrassed. Angry. Alone. Your phone had no signal. There was nowhere to sit. The crowd pressed too close. Everything felt too loud. Too much.

Your eyes burned.

You weren’t sure why.

It wasn’t just the sandal. Or the crowd. Or the pain.

It was the quiet way the world moved on without you. Like your bad day didn’t matter to anyone but you.

You blinked hard. Inhaled. “Stop it,” you whispered to no one. “You’re not a kid anymore.”

But the tears slipped through anyway.

It’s as if all the things you had forgotten were coming back to you at once. The tears kept rushing in, and you couldn't help as a sob escaped your lips. It felt embarrasing, and overwhelming.

It hurt.

And then—just as suddenly as he disappeared—Caleb was there.

His hand landed gently on your head. Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just there. Steady.

You didn’t even have to look up to know it was him.

“There you are,” he said softly. “I told you the hat was essential. Like a little red alert I could follow.”

You turned.

And before you could stop yourself, you leaned in.

Pressed your forehead to his chest, fingers curling into the front of that stupid jacket. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t say anything. He just wrapped his arms around you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He always does.

“You okay?” he murmured, chin resting lightly against your temple.

You nodded. Lied.

He pulled back only enough to glance down at your foot—and stilled.

“What happened?” he asked, already crouching.

You shrugged. “I tripped. It’s nothing.”

But he looked up at your face, and whatever he saw there made him go quiet.

The next thing you knew, he’d turned around and crouched, arms steady.

“Get on,” he said, like it was obvious.

You hesitated. “Caleb, I can walk—”

“Not with that toe, you can’t.”

“I’ll survive.”

He looked over his shoulder, gaze soft but unwavering. “I know you will. But I’m not letting you limp through a fairground like some tragic drama heroine. So get on.”

You did.

Because he always had ways to get you to do things.

His back was warm. Broad. Familiar. You rested your cheek against it, letting yourself breathe. Just for a minute. Just long enough to forget you were supposed to be holding everything together.

He didn’t talk much after that.

But he listened.

He always listens. To the stuff you say. And the stuff you don’t.

And somewhere between the games and the silence and the ridiculous sun hat, you felt something shift. Not between you, exactly. Just… inside you.

Like the way your heart fluttered when he reached back to steady your legs. The way his hand lingered, gentle, firm. The way you wished the walk back would last longer.

It wasn’t new. But it felt new.

You wanted to say something. Maybe ask if he’d always been this warm. This easy to lean on.

Instead, you whispered, “Will you still give me piggybacks when you have a girlfriend?”

It came out before you could stop it.

He slowed a little. “Huh?”

You immediately backtracked. “Forget I said that. I’m being weird.”

There was a pause. Then:

“Pipsqueak,” he said, voice softer than it had any right to be, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t make it a joke.

And you didn’t laugh.

You just held on tighter, heart knocking a little too loudly against your ribs.

Because maybe—for the first time—you let yourself believe him.

And that tiny voice inside you, the one you’d ignored for years, whispered something new:

He’s always been there.

But maybe you’re starting to see him.

Stage three: The need to express

The attic smells like dust and summer and forgotten stories. You wrinkle your nose and push open the crooked window to let the light in, the breeze stirring motes into lazy spirals. Caleb’s behind you somewhere, muttering about the lack of proper ventilation like the grown-up he pretends to be.

“You sure this isn’t a health hazard?” he calls, lifting a heavy box with one hand and wiping his forehead with the other.

“Quit complaining, you said you wanted to help,” you reply, shoving aside a pile of old notebooks. “I just need to find that album. The one with all the polaroids.”

“You mean the one where you gave me devil horns in every photo?”

“They were accurate portrayals.”

He laughs—loud and honest, and it fills the room in a way that makes your chest ache, though you can’t explain why.

You were distracted, half-kneeling on a rickety step-stool, sifting through a box labeled Childhood Trash, when you hear it.

“Oh?” Caleb’s voice, playful. “What’s this?”

You turn your head, and he’s holding a thin red notebook with your name doodled all over the cover. It’s not the album.

It’s your old account book.

Your heart drops.

“Oh my god—give me that—” You nearly fall off the stool trying to snatch it, but Caleb dances out of reach, flipping it open with an evil grin.

“May 14th: Caleb said he’d save the last candy but he ate it. Betrayal. 3 points deducted from friendship score.” He snorts. “You had a point system?”

“Stop reading it!”

“June 2nd: Caleb forgot my birthday until noon. Very upsetting. Only made up for it with strawberry pocky. 6 points lost, 4 recovered. Net friendship score: shaky.” He’s laughing now, eyes crinkling.

You lunge for him.

The stool wobbles.

Stupid.

You yelp—too late—and pitch forward. A sudden arm catches you mid-air, and the two of you crash backward, tangled and breathless, landing squarely on the sagging attic couch behind him.

For a second, there’s only stillness. The dust floats around you like suspended time.

You’re sprawled half on top of him, one knee pressing into the cushion, your hand fisted into the front of his shirt. His arm’s around your waist, steady and secure. He hasn’t let go.

And you… haven’t moved either.

Because suddenly you’re noticing everything.

The way his chest rises beneath your hand. The way his voice dips low when he says your name, barely above a whisper. “Hey. You okay?”

You nod, but your voice doesn’t come. Because your gaze is stuck—on his hand, where it holds your waist. That faint, silvery scar on his wrist.

The one from when he climbed the fence for you in seventh grade to rescue your dumb sketchbook. You’d forgotten about it. But it’s there. Always has been.

Your eyes flick up. To his lips.

He’s not smiling now. Not teasing.

Just watching you.

Like you’re something fragile.

You feel his thumb brush your cheek—so softly, you could almost pretend it didn’t happen. But it did. A slow stroke, calloused finger grazing your skin like he’s memorizing it.

“Caleb…” you whisper, and you’re not sure if it’s a warning or a question.

But he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t move.

His hand lingers at your jaw, fingertips gentle. And his gaze…

It lingers.

Not just on your face. But on you. Like you’re not the same girl he’s known all his life. Like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You swallow.

Because you’re seeing him, too.

The soft yearning in his eyes. The weight behind it. The way he always offers you the last bite. The way he listens—not just hears. The way his presence fills a room without ever demanding it.

Your face is so close to his now. Just one breath away.

You lean forward.

Just a little.

Then freeze.

Because this isn’t nothing. This isn’t teasing. This is—

Caleb’s hand shifts, slides to cup your jaw. His thumb grazes the corner of your mouth, like he’s already read your thoughts.

And he murmurs, quiet and dangerous:

“I still owe you six points, don’t I?”

You exhale, trembling, torn between laughter and something deeper.

And suddenly, you realize—

You don’t want the points.

You want him.

Stage four: The Leap of Faith

It took ages to admit it—not just out loud, but to yourself. That maybe your childhood friend wasn’t just a friend.

You used to think feelings like this came in lightning strikes. One moment of clarity. One spark of sudden, overwhelming love. But this… this has been quieter. Slower. A steady ache, like light seeping in through the cracks. Like warmth you only noticed when it was gone.

And now you were older. A licensed Deepspace Hunter under the elite UNICORNS unit. Trained. Hardened. Supposedly brave. You fought shadows and monsters, crossed danger zones without flinching. So what was one confession?

If he was home today, you decided, you’d tell him. Just tell him. If he wasn’t—well, maybe it was the universe’s way of telling you to keep pretending.

The sun hung low when you stepped off the transport, casting soft amber light across the familiar neighborhood. There was the old tree you used to climb. The mailbox Caleb once painted purple because you dared him. Everything looked just the same.

Except you. You weren’t the girl who bit his hand when he stole your last candy. You weren’t the girl who cried when he left for his first mission without you.

You were someone who could say it now.

Maybe.

The door creaked as you stepped inside the house. The smell of roast pork greeted you first—warm, rich, nostalgic. And then—

“Grandma, I’m home,” you called out.

The old woman looked up from her place on the couch, her eyes lighting up. “Ah, sweetie,” she said, delighted. “You haven’t been visiting since you joined the Hunters. Did you miss me?”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you walked toward her. “Of course I did. Is that roast pork? I’ve been learning how to cook. Want to be my taste tester?”.

She sniffed the air with dramatic flair. “What happened to the girl who couldn’t even boil water? I should’ve sent you into the battlefield sooner.”

Her words made you smile—but it wasn’t them that made your heart jolt.

It was his voice, coming from the kitchen.

“She still can’t boil water,” Caleb said, stepping out with a tray in his hands. “But hey, she tries.”

Your breath caught.

He wore a black jacket over a soft white tee, sleeves pushed up. His hair was a little tousled, like he’d run his hands through it too many times. And he looked just the same. Exactly like the day you last saw him. Too much like home.

“I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow,” you said, unable to hide your awe.

He raised a brow. “What’s wrong with coming home early to spend time with you and Gran?”

Then, casually, like it didn’t shake your entire chest, he reached out and ruffled your hair. “Go wash your hands. Let’s eat.”

The three of you sat together as the old TV played something soft in the background. The warmth of the food, the low hum of conversation—it felt like a piece of your past was stitched back into place.

You glanced at Grandma. “How’s your health? Still getting headaches?”

She waved you off gently. “It’s normal for people my age. As long as I take my medication, I’ll be fine.”

“But didn’t the doctor suggest observation in the hospital?” you frowned.

Grandma gave Caleb a pleading look. He stepped in smoothly.

“Already on it,” he said, placing his chopsticks down. “I submitted an application for long-term care. It’s a nice, quiet ward. Just her style.”

You blinked at him. “Wait. When did you do all that?”

“Caleb’s always been decisive,” Grandma chimed in before he could answer. “If I need to be in the hospital, visit me, alright? Oh, and talk to Zayne too. Maybe have lunch with him.”

You almost choked.

She was still trying to set you up—with Zayne of all people. While you were preparing to confess to Caleb.

“Even the world’s busiest guy has to eat. I haven't seen him in a looong time. We should invite him over for a dinner, right?”, Caleb added smoothly, looking straight at you with that unreadable smile.

You tried to recover, chuckling nervously. “Yeah. And we can kidnap him if he refuses.”

Caleb smirked, Grandma laughed, and for a brief second, things felt light again.

Then your watch beeped—sharp, sudden.

A crimson glow.

Wanderer alert.

You stood quickly. “I’m going to check it out. Just a quick patrol.”

“You sure?” Caleb asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah. I won’t be long.”

You stepped outside, adjusting your gear, boots thudding softly against the pavement. The afternoon light was golden, casting long shadows on the sidewalk. But the warmth didn’t reach your chest this time.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You didn’t even turn around. “Caleb.”

He fell into step beside you.

“What kind of hunter lets their childhood friend tag along to work with them?” you said, exasperated.

“I’m not tagging along,” he said, voice perfectly straight. “I’m going to the store. To buy vinegar.”

You blinked at him. Then pointed at the store right across the street.

You huffed, half-laughing, half-defeated, and nudged him toward the store.

You continued down the street, scanning the neighborhood with practiced ease. There was no unusual energy. No ripple in the atmosphere. No Wanderer lurking in the shadows.

Everything was calm.

Too calm.

And maybe that was why, when you turned to look for Caleb again, your chest pulled tight. Because the quiet gave your mind space to wander. And in that silence, your heart drifted—

Back to the attic.

Back to the moment when everything nearly changed.

Back to the almost-confession.

And everything you couldn’t say.

Caleb’s voice breaks the stillness, teasing but gentle. “I still owe you six points, don’t I?”

The words hang between you both like a delicate thread, something playful, but it doesn’t land like it usually does. No, not this time.

You exhale, your breath uneven, as you fight the mix of emotions swirling inside you. There's a lightness to it, yes—like laughter that never fully escapes—but something deeper lingers just beneath the surface. It wraps around you like the warm summer air, suffocating yet comforting at the same time.

You want to laugh, to push away the growing tension, but it’s impossible. Not when his eyes are on you like that, so soft, so sure.

You don’t look away from him, and you feel it, the weight of his gaze on you, pulling you closer, not physically, but in a way that has your heart racing and your pulse quickening. You want to move, to break the distance, but your body’s betraying you, your feet rooted to the spot, as if the universe itself is pausing for what comes next.

He notices, of course. He always does.

“Are you… okay?” His voice is quieter now, something like concern threading through it. His hand moves ever so slightly, the warmth of his fingers brushing against your arm. The touch makes you shiver, a slight tremble running through you. It’s not cold—no, it’s warmth, and yet it freezes you in place.

You lean closer without thinking. The air between you crackles with that unspoken promise. You barely register it, but your fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeve, a tight, anxious grip.

And suddenly, it’s too much. The tension is thick, so thick you could cut it with a knife. Every inch of your body is on edge, every nerve alight with the anticipation of something you can't put into words. Something you’re afraid to touch, even though you know it’s there, right beneath the surface.

For a split second, you both stay still, neither of you daring to move. You don’t even blink. Your lips part slightly, but no words come out.

And then, just when you think you might close the gap, just when you think you might finally be brave enough to bridge that space between you… he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

His embrace isn’t hurried or desperate, but it’s enough to make your heart skip, to make every part of you ache with what could’ve been.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice warm, but with an edge of something softer, something that makes your chest tighten even more. “I didn’t mean to rush you.”

You stay in his arms for a moment longer than you expect, your breath slowing, his steady heartbeat against yours grounding you, and for a moment, the world feels smaller, just the two of you, wrapped in this suspended reality.

But even as his hands find their way to your back, even as he pats you gently, you can feel it. The unspoken words. The almost-what-could-have-been.

His words linger, not pushing, not demanding. “Take your time,” he says, his voice the same soft, sure thing it’s always been. “I’ll always be here. Whenever you’re ready, you can come back to me.”

It’s like a promise. It feels like a soft thread tethering you to him, pulling you back to reality just when you’re teetering on the edge of something you’re not quite ready for.

But you know he’s right. You’re not ready. Not yet. But you might be someday.

The street is quiet in the afternoon sun, the world still turning even when your heart hasn't caught up.

“Found your big bad Wanderers?” Caleb’s voice cuts into your reverie, gentle but teasing, like always.

You blink, startled—had you really zoned out that long? “False alarm,” you murmur, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll report it to the agency later on.”

But his eyes don’t leave you.

They dip lower, scanning over your arm—over the place where the skin is faintly grazed from your last mission, the one where the man with protocore syndrome scratched you. The makeshift wrap isn’t hiding much, and you can see the moment his expression changes. Jaw tensing. Eyes darkening.

“That’s not from today,” he says quietly, and then—flatly, “Who hurt you?”.

”Uh... This, I was petting a cat and...“, You hesitate, avoiding his eyes.

Caleb doesn’t laugh. He just stares at you.

“A straycat, huh,” he mutters, crossing his arms. “Guess I’ll go find that cat and teach it a lesson.”

You sigh. “I’m telling the truth.”

“No, you’re not,” he replies softly.

The silence that follows is heavier than you wanted to admit.

You look down at your wrist, fiddling with the edge of the cuff, avoiding his gaze. “We already have enough on our plate, Caleb. There’s no need to stress you and gran about this.“

He nods slowly, but you can see something flickering in his eyes. Not anger, exactly—just something tired. Something… hurt.

“I understand why you’d hide it from her,” he says, voice low. “She’s old. She’d get anxious.”

Then his gaze flicks back up to you. There’s a faint crease between his brows, and his voice breaks just a little.

“But why hide it from me?”

Your breath catches.

He lets out a soft laugh, like it doesn’t matter—but you both know it does. “Isn’t it better to trust me now that…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Just sighs and offers you a sad smile. “Never mind.”

He gestures toward the house. “If you’re going to come back home, maybe hide that better, yeah?”.

And just like that, he turns, walking ahead, the door creaking open as he steps inside.

You stare after him, your heart aching with the weight of unsaid things. He thinks you don’t care anymore. He thinks maybe you’ve outgrown him. But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know you were going to tell him tonight. About everything. About how nothing’s changed. About how everything has.

You look down at your wrist, pull your sleeve lower, and follow. You take a breath. One step forward—

And then everything erupts.

A deafening roar, a blast of heat. The ground lurches under your feet, flinging you backward like a rag doll. Your ears ring instantly, a high-pitched whine swallowing the world.

You don’t even realize you’ve hit the ground until you taste blood.

Smoke. Heat. Light. Everything’s on fire—your thoughts, your skin, the sky itself. The house is a glowing furnace, collapsing inwards, wood splintering and walls caving in.

You push yourself up—arm trembling, ribs burning—just enough to see shapes in the smoke, all flickering gold and black. The air is too thick to breathe.

Then something glints near you, half-buried in the rubble.

A broken chain.

His necklace.

You reach for it, fingers scraped and bleeding. It’s the only thing you can hold onto.

Pain pulses behind your eyes. You try to stay awake—just a moment longer—but the world is tilting, too loud, too hot.

Your hand curls around the metal—

And then, nothing.

Darkness claims you before you hit the ground again.

Switching between these every day

My fave flavour of loverboy y'all is just Caleb the amt of giggling I do over this man is not normal

So Caleb just casually says the cutest fucking shit at any given opportunity ???

Like ??? How am I supposed to just continue on with the conversation after these ??? I'm literally a giggling and blushing mess rn ??? God forbid he smiles at me too like I'm done I'm not functioning anymore send help

“THE COLONEL AND THE NURSE”

Military Archive Record No. 2734A — Circa Final Offensive, WWVI Colonel Caleb Xia — 5th Skyborne Division, Commander of the Farspace Fleet, DAA Fighter Pilot | KIA, Unrecovered Field Nurse Y/N L/N — Combat Medic, 3rd Allied Medical Corps | Survivor, Honorably Discharged Stationed: Underground Military Base, Zone A-9 Classification: Public Display Approved / Declassified Archive

from the colonel series.

#LADsMultiBoycott: Enough Is Enough – It’s Time to Stand Together

“We don’t hate the game—we love it enough to want better.”

Over the past few weeks, the community has been buzzing over translated leaks and rumors surfacing on Xiaohongshu (小红书) and Twitter that point to a disturbing trend in Love and Deepspace (LADs). The upcoming multi-banner—whether it turns out to be the anticipated Spring or Wedding multi—will once again feature long hairstyles separated from their outfits. Yes, again. After all the outcry. After all the feedback. We're here once more.

Let me be blunt: we can’t keep going like this. We can’t keep hoping CN girlies will save us every time. We can’t keep spending in good faith when Infold continues to exploit our loyalty and silence our voices. We can’t keep pretending that fan art and cute trailers make up for broken promises and paywalled aesthetics.

It’s time for us to join together, across servers, communities, and fandoms. It's not about Sylus mains vs Caleb mains vs the OG3. We're all getting burned by the same fire.

💥 What We Know From the Leaks

According to reliable sources:

The upcoming banner after Sylus’s Birthday Event might be another multi-banner format, either Spring or Wedding.

Long hairstyles will be separated from the outfits and placed in a separate crate—again.

This structure mirrors gacha mechanics where full outfits demand 140+ pulls, stretching across 5-star parts like socks, pants, accessories, and hair.

These decisions appear to be influenced by monetization models similar to Infinity Nikki, prioritizing profit over playability or fairness.

📢 So What Are We Doing About It?

We are organizing under #LADsMultiBoycott to push back against these predatory changes. This isn’t just a tantrum. It’s a coordinated protest.

🔥 Our Demands:

Six-month roadmaps to ensure transparency and accountability.

Higher resource drops from the highest-tier Bounty/Core Hunt.

Stop separating hairstyles from outfits in banners.

New sources of diamond income (no more stagnant gem economy).

No spending for the first 3 days of the banner. Use only your saved-up diamonds.

File official complaints to show Infold that this matters. Email:

loveanddeepspace-en@infoldgames.com

support-EN@infoldgames.com

🧠 Strategy: What You Can Do

Here’s what our global LADs family is doing:

1. No Spending for Entire Banner Period

Even if you have funds set aside, hold them. Don’t top up. Don’t feed the system that’s disrespecting your playtime and wallet.

2. Delay Your Pulls

Do not pull in the first 3 days. Choose your LI in the pool, then log out. Let the data show decreased first-week participation.

3. Minimal Screen Time

Yes, log in for dailies, but keep your session short, especially for iOS users. Play Store and App Store algorithms track usage data. Reduced screen time:

Hurts engagement metrics.

Lowers game ranking.

Cuts ad revenue.

4. No Banner Fanart for First Few Days

As painful as it is to hide our beautiful boys, let’s not unintentionally trigger FOMO. Fanart drives hype—hold off until after the peak revenue period.

5. Only Use Android if Possible

App Store rankings are disproportionately influenced by iOS user engagement. Reducing iOS traffic matters more than you think.

🌎 A Global Movement: We’re Not Alone

Our fellow players in China have already shaken Infold’s confidence.

CN revenue dropped by 42.2% from Nov 2024 to March 2025 (from $100M to $57.8M).

Global rankings dropped, while games like Genshin and Wuthering Waves soared.

Their success in the "stop-spending-money" campaign proved one thing: boycotts work.

If they can do it, so can we.

✊ This Is About More Than Just One Banner

Infold believes that as long as they release a sexy card, we’ll cave. They believe we don’t talk to each other. That we’re divided by LI bias and language barriers. But what they don’t see is how deeply connected we’ve become as a fandom.

We aren’t asking for perfection. We’re asking for respect.

If we let this multi go unchallenged, it sets a dangerous precedent:

Separated hairstyles in multi-banners like this become normalized.

Resources remain stagnant.

Paywalls keep climbing.

F2P and low-spenders are permanently excluded.

💡 Why Minimal Playtime Matters

Some of you might be thinking, “But this won’t work?” And here’s why it will:

“Why Cutting Screen Time Works” – The Breakdown

Engagement metrics tank. App Store/Play Store ranks games by DAU, session length, etc.

Revenue drops. Less screen time = fewer ad views = less money.

Rankings slide. Visibility goes down, leading to even fewer players.

It sends a message. A sharp drop in playtime can’t be ignored by business analysts.

💬 “But What If Infold Cancels the Game?”

They won’t. That’s just fear-mongering.

If a company is willing to kill its own cash cow just because fans want better—then it was never worth our support to begin with. But more importantly: they won’t kill it. They’ve seen that the game can pull millions. They’ll just need to earn it now.

🧱 We’re Building Something Bigger

This isn’t just about LADs. It’s about every gacha game that’s begun preying on its fans. If we roll over here, what message are we sending to WuWa, HSR, ZZZ, GI, and the rest?

We all have that one game we ride or die for. But loving a game doesn’t mean blind loyalty. Criticism is love in action.

🧩 TL;DR: How You Can Help

❌ Don’t spend money on the next multi-banner

🕒 Log in for dailies only, pick your LI, then log off

🎨 Hold off on banner fanart for a few days

📉 Reduce iOS activity as much as possible

💌 Email: loveanddeepspace-en@infoldgames.com support-EN@infoldgames.com

🗣️ Spread awareness under #LADsMultiBoycott

Even if you’re the only one on your server, know that you’re not alone. We’re tired, we’re frustrated—but we’re not powerless.

Let’s stop funding our own oppression.

No fair treatment = no money. Let them earn it.

Resources:

Revenue Trends: Ennead Data

Reddit Info Post: Sylus Girlies PSA

XHS Links: Source 1, Source 2

Hahaheehee atp I'd accept anything pls 🧍‍♀️

Love and depression fr

Pre!explosion Caleb doesn't tell mc about his feelings cuz he thinks that they have enough time in the world and post!explosion Caleb doesn't tell mc about his feelings cuz he knows that he doesn't have enough time.