Hello! Iâm Timi Tango and this is my page! I wanted to make like a master post (?) so everyone knows what the delio is with me.
I use any pronouns
I write and do art whenever the urge strikes me
I am involved in various fandoms and I often jump from one to another quickly so expect that!
Iâm horrible with technology so if I donât see something or did something wrong sorry in advance
This is a no hate page so please donât spread any hate to others or anything like that
The way I section my different work is through different tags such as âtimi repostsâ for my reposts, âtimi artâ for my artwork, and â timi writingsâ for my writing
Any asks or request are more than welcome and if I donât respond please donât take it personally I probably just havenât seen it!
Author of âThe Will to Persevereâ on ao3, go check it out if its your cup of tea!! I post any information about the fic on the tag âthe will to persevereâ
I am also doing a journal/writing exercise I've titled "Ramblings of the Mad", so my daily writing whatevers will be under the tag "rambling of the mad"
Thatâs it for now thanks for stopping by and as a thank you gift have this weird drawing of my honey badger mascot:
Ok ok, this definitely took me a very long time, but now chapter 5 for "The Will to Persevere" is here! I've honestly come to accept that it takes me awhile to make these chapters just cause my life is always hectic and got things going on in it, but every time without fail, I come back to this fandom and fic. So worry not! Regardless of how long it takes me to post, I will always post a new chapter for this until its finished, just might take me awhile to post the chapter...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
But I hope you enjoy it! Got some very exciting things in this chapter, with new characters being introduced, hehehehe...
I've been having trouble writing the 3rd chapter of my fic "The Will to Persevere" so as a way to help get me out of my rutt, I wrote a little scenario of the Gaster boys with the Reader on an early day, enjoy!
âSo⊠Youâre off to art college yeah?â
ââŠYeah.â
â...Thank god! Hah, if you ended up going to that haughty taughty rich college I wouldâve smacked you across your head!âÂ
âHahah, yeah no way!âÂ
âHahah yeahâŠIâmâŠÂ Iâm gonna miss you.â
â...Me too.âÂ
Huh..?Â
You're awake. What were you.. Dreaming about? Your eyes squint as you think, a groan leaving you while you stretch the sleep away.Â
Nope. Canât remember.Â
You roll yourself further into your nest of covers and pillows, continuing to grumble to yourself as you're determined to go to sleep again. Cmon, just like, five more minutes at least.Â
You shift.Â
You shift again.Â
Nope.Â
Ughhh, fine.Â
 Huffing a little you begin to sit up and get out of your oh so comfy bed. A quick look at the light crystal on your dresser tells you it's around a quarter to rising.Â
The light crystals were so interesting, you had no idea how they dimmed and lit mimicking day and night, instead called rising and resting, but you were absolutely transfixed by them when Papyrus was so kind as to get you one, insisting it was simply to keep you from being late or lazy, and that it was definitely not a gift.Â
You snorted a little at the memory. Sure.Â
Your own little crystal from the cavern ceiling, how beautiful. Just looking at the mesmerizing thing warmed your SOUL as the memories of the gift and who it came from stirred inside you.Â
Speaking of him, he's probably up by now.Â
You smile a little as you get some shorts on, deciding to leave on the baggy shirt, hoping your lazy fit would be forgiven since it was so early in the morning.Â
Your feet patter on the wooden steps, already smelling delicious food coming from the kitchen.
God that smells divine.Â
The scene that greets you as you walk into the kitchen makes you smirk a little, oh my god he's so cute.Â
There in front of you was Papyrus, Lieutenant of the Royal Guards, in a pink and frilly apron, cooking some morning eggs and bacon.Â
You canât help but let out a snort, the image cemented into your memory.Â
Youâre fucking dying.
Is this why he cooks so early in the morning, so none of us will see him?
The sound is immediately registered by Papyrus, a jolt going through him before he quickly turns around, a deep reddish orange blush covering his face when he sees you.
âH-HUMAN-âÂ
I quickly shush him, huffs of air still leaving me and a wide smile as I silently laugh.
âI- It's early Papyrus, youâll wake everyone up, ch-chill.â
You keep laughing a little, Papyrus getting redder and redder by the second, making you get more and more hysterical. You pat him on the arm, trying to calm him down.Â
âB-Besides, it looks good on you! Promise I wonât tell anyone, kay?âÂ
That seemed to calm him down, his jaw clenching and unclenching, his blush going down now while his eyes shift from you to your hand.Â
Oh.Â
Damnit, you didnât mean to touch him so casually, it just kinda happened. Fuck, you hoped he wasnât mad at you.Â
âShit, my bad, didnât mean to touch you.â
You go to get some water to get away from the situation that was getting increasingly more awkward, way to go you. You reach up into the cabinets for a glass that was just out of reach from your fingers, mouth frowning and brows furrowing while you continued to struggle.Â
Goddamnit, you swear you could reach this shelf before-Â
Papyrusâ body suddenly overshadows your own, the smell of cloves, cinnamon and spices washing over you, easily picking up the glass you were struggling with and hands it to you.Â
You felt your face grow warm for a second, taking the glass and filling it up while uttering a quick thanks.
The Underground just seemed to have a way of making you feel really short.Â
âŠ
âSans Threw Away The Rest Of The Aprons In The House Except For This One.âÂ
You turn towards Papyrus, cracking a smile as you look at him, already back to tending to the food, eyes trained on the pan.Â
Oh my god. âNo he didnât.âÂ
Papyrus simply sighs. âYes, He Did.â
You snort ugily before covering your face and looking away, soon breaking out into laughter, all awkwardness forgotten in the face of this hilarious prank. In your laughter, you narrowly miss Papyrus glancing at you with a soft smile.Â
âAre You Laughing At My Misery?âÂ
I turn towards Papyrus, his boney brow quirked upwards the only change from his stoic face, waving my hand in denial.
âNo no, p-promise I just, hahaha! That's, that's really good!â God you couldnât stop giggling, puns were nice sure, but a good prank? Donât even get you started.Â
âI mean terrible! T-Terrible!âÂ
Papyrus looks at you as you continue to giggle, poking you softly on your shoulder, making you squirm, his eyes filled with what looked to be mirth and something else, but your teary eyes couldnât see very well.Â
âYou Find This Very Funny Huh? Not Afraid Of What I Might Do In Retaliation To Your Laughter? Maybe You Need To Do More Push-Ups In Your Training, Might Get That Ridiculous Humor Out Of You.â
No! You look at him with wide eyes, still snickering as you twist and turn as he continues to poke you, just making you laugh more.Â
âNo, no please! Hahahah, n-no more push-ups!âÂ
âey boss, don be killin teâ only person in âere wit a gud sense of humor, yeah? she looks like she's abouta pass out from laughin too much.âÂ
You look to where the deep voice came from, seeing Sans resting on the entrance of the kitchen, his eye light switching between you and Papyrus, arms folded in front of him.Â
Oof, you probably woke him up with all of your racket, he was for sure going to be mad at you for that, Sans didnât wake up into late evening, and this was still early morning.
You wipe away your tears and get out the rest of your laughs while you make your way over to Sans, his signature scent of mezcal, smoke, and cedar wood stronger than usual.
âHeh, sorry Sans, I didnât mean to wake you up,â giving Sans your best apologetic look, hoping he wouldnât be too angry with you.Â
He keeps eye contact with Papyrus for a few seconds more before looking to you, a wide grin on his face and shifts his stance so he's leaning on the wall with his elbow, hand on his skull, his other hand in his pocket.Â
Wow, how smooth.Â
âNah, yer gud dollface, was âavin trouble sleepin actually, so came down ta ask if yaâd âelp me?âÂ
You gave him your best displeased face, brows furrowing and a deep frown as you crossed your arms, but the blush across your face was really not working in your favor.
Damnit, remember, that's just his personality, millions of other girls hear the same shit, donât be desperate.Â
âVery funny Sans, donât seem to have much trouble sleeping 99 percent of the time, other girls keeping you company instead?âÂ
You actually get a snort out of Papyrus with that, surprising you and Sans, Papyrus quickly covering it up by clearing his throat. You look at the back of Papyrusâ head with a shocked smile, woah, a chuckle from thee Papyrus for one of your measly jokes? You felt honored.Â
âheh, usually jusâ te thought a yaâs enough, guess it didnâ work today.âÂ
You simply roll your eyes as his brows raise and he shrugs. You turn and get a stool so you can reach the plates in the cabinet, wanting to set up the table since it looked like Papyrus was almost done.Â
âSure pal. Maybe if your pick up lines were better Iâd consider.â
Moving past Sans you begin setting up the table, mind wandering to Frisk and if you should wake them up yet or let them sleep.Â
âoh if ye wanâ more, ey can always-â
âEnough Sans. The Human Is Sick And Tired Of Your Grotesque Puns, Now Sit Down And Wait Patiently Or Else Iâll Give Your Food To Rocky.âÂ
Your eyes shift to Rocky the Rock in all of their spiked collar glory, who somehow seems to be exuding the aura of being very pleased at that idea. You snort a little, but continue to make the table, now setting up the forks and knives.Â
Where did the food that they âfedâ Rocky with go? You decided to not think about it too long, simply chalking it up to most of the things down here.Â
Magic.Â
Sans chuckles a little before teleporting himself into his chair, which was, literally like 2 feet away from him, making you smile slightly and shake your head at him. He simply looks at you and shrugs, winking before speaking to Papyrus.Â
âheh, alright boss, whatever ya say.âÂ
Papyrus gives him a narrowed look as he begins plating the food, Sans looking the same as usual, however you could swear their trademark scent was getting stronger, strong enough for your nose to wrinkle. You looked at Papyrus and point upstairs.
âIâm going to wake up Frisk for breakfast.âÂ
Papyrus just gave you a grunt in response, you turned around and began walking up the stairs when all of a sudden you hear-Â
âdam sweetheart, are ye buttdialing me? cause that ass sure is calling te me!â
OH MY GOD! You look at Sans with a flustered expression, hands covering your butt as you yell âPERVERT!â, causing Sans to laugh out loud.Â
Papyrus slams on the table and begins yelling in his voice he usually uses for work, screaming at Sans.Â
âSANS I'VE TOLD YOU-â
Groaning, you try your best to tune out the Brothers bickering, sure that Frisk was up by now.Â
God, how the hell were you going to survive in the house with the two of them?
_____
Annnd, thats the drabble! God god god god how badly I wish I could skip all the world and relationship building just so I can jump right into this but, alas, thats not how things are meant to be done. ='(
Just some little hcs about the brothers that I need to say, cause their boiling up in me and someone gonna hear them! :
Sans and Papyrus' scents are similar to pheromones in the way that they work to entice a specific person and show their a candid mate to them, and in this instance, with the smell getting stronger, a way to ward of other men from their mate, although Reader has absolutely no idea whats happening and simply thinks they put on their cologne too strongly lmao
Even though on an instinctive level Sans butts heads with Papyrus when it comes to Reader, if it came down to it Sans would give up Reader so Papyrus could be with them, prioritizing his happiness over his own (No they don't hate each other they love each other very much they just have feelings for the same gyal-)
Papyrus on the other hand, doesn't think of this as "only one of us can have her!" type thing, as in most circumstances relationships in the Underground are polyandry (one female multiple males) due to the low birthing rate, so he's more so fighting for the "Alpha" spot so to say, or just simply wanting to be the first one she chooses as her mate. Sans is just a pessimistic poop head who thinks really lowly of himself and doesn't think she'd choose a sleazebag like him at all, but can't help himself from still wanting her
Ok ok I gotta stop myself or else I'm gonna reveal stuff that I shouldn't be ok hope you liked this go read my fic "The Will to Persevere" byeeee!
Day two of trying to write everyday as a writing exercise! This one is kinda stupid and bland but words are words. I'm honestly just treating this as a journal for my random thoughts.
Going to parties is an odd experience, at least in high school.Â
I was pretty secluded during my first 2 years of highschool, only really spending time with people in school and not out.Â
Which was fine! But when youâre halfway through your highschool life, what's supposed to be the peak of your teenage years with no party experience to speak of. Well you feel like you're missing out.Â
I had this idea, this dream of what my first party was going to be like. Blaring music, neon lights, teenage bodies clumped together, halfway gone while we all jump and dance together.Â
A nightmare to some, but for my adrenaline junkie self, it sounded like Nirvana.Â
And then finally, the day of reckoning comes. Midway through my junior year. I was able to convince one of my party veteran friends to take me to a party being thrown.Â
With bright hopeful eyes, I pay the ridiculous entry fee of 35 dollars, try my best to find something good to wear (an outfit mildly provocative but also normal and bland enough to blend in with the average teenage populous, the average worries of any teenager) and I wait eagerly for my friends Uber to pull up.Â
At first everythings going smooth! Weâre pregaming a bit, nothing too mind you (be responsible when partying!) We giggle together like teenagers in a coming of age movie, everythings going to plan.Â
And then we get to the venue.Â
No one, I mean no one is dancing.Â
Everyone is smoking, drinking in their own corners of the small room, a glazed look over their glassy eyes, drool leaking out of their gaping mouths, either starting to sloppily make out with someone or starting to talk with someone to make out with them.Â
⊠What.Â
Where's the bouncing crowd, dancing bodies, blaring music, the fun party scene I envisioned?
Nowhere in sight, that's for sure.Â
And the music sucked on top of that, to make matters worse.Â
Anyways, it sucked, but I went to some other parties later on in junior and senior year that weren't so bad. Moral of the story, don't hype up parties too much, not every party is the same so find your niche, and be safe always.Â
My trainâs coming up on my stop so I have to go. Tata!Â
Ok ok, this definitely took me a very long time, but now chapter 5 for "The Will to Persevere" is here! I've honestly come to accept that it takes me awhile to make these chapters just cause my life is always hectic and got things going on in it, but every time without fail, I come back to this fandom and fic. So worry not! Regardless of how long it takes me to post, I will always post a new chapter for this until its finished, just might take me awhile to post the chapter...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
But I hope you enjoy it! Got some very exciting things in this chapter, with new characters being introduced, hehehehe...
Ok ok, this definitely took me a very long time, but now chapter 5 for "The Will to Persevere" is here! I've honestly come to accept that it takes me awhile to make these chapters just cause my life is always hectic and got things going on in it, but every time without fail, I come back to this fandom and fic. So worry not! Regardless of how long it takes me to post, I will always post a new chapter for this until its finished, just might take me awhile to post the chapter...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
But I hope you enjoy it! Got some very exciting things in this chapter, with new characters being introduced, hehehehe...
I feel like I havenât been doing enough creative work, so Iâve decided Iâm going to try and write blurbs every day (letâs see how long that goes for) to exercise my writing muscle.
I name it, âRamblings of the Mad.â Enjoy.
I, am an idiot.
I don't know why I was born with this condition, this dilemna (Is that how you spell it?) of mine, but since I breached the comforts of my mothers womb, a ridiculous amount of hair on my head, I haven't been all there. I didn't cry when I was supposed to, umbilical cord wrapped around my neck and exiting feet first like a slip-and-slide, I was trouble right from the get go.
It's an odd feeling, being so abnormally âspecialâ (as my parents say) compared to the average individual. I don't quite fit in with everyone else: thinking, feeling, being different than those around me, since I was a snotty nose kid to freshly turned adult.
And Iâm not special enough to be outstanding, mind you. Whereas those who are so different they stand out with their peculiarness like some Picasso painting, causing ripples of oohs and awes wherever they go, I am just a slightly off kilter mediocre painting. Tilted an inch or so off the middle line as to cause people to squint, but nothing drastic enough to be moving or invoke any real thought.
How spectacular, how beautiful to be slightly weird! Only one or two people can handle my spontaneity, my sudden intrusive thoughts so now Iâm near obsessive of them, terrified of the thought of them leaving me and having to be alone with my thoughts once more. But I also can't stand being with too many people, because then it's just too many people, and then I have to placate to their wants and conform to their conversation that feels so dreary and draining to me. It's like being picky about life, being a closeted asshole that only a select people are informed about.
But anyway, I digress. I knight myself an idiot because of my slight weirdness (to loop it back to the beginning). I am not weird enough to be outstandingly smart or talented but weird enough to not know how to write a proper email, how to talk to people in a socially acceptable fashion, stupid enough to fuck up things that do matter simply because my brain told me they didnât.
Like shouldering off an assessment from your college because it's the summer and so anything you do now has no meaning (your brain assures you). But it does have meaning, and now youâre writing a shoddy email in hopes of getting another chance to do your assessment so it wonât fuck up the rest of your college experience that hasnt even started yet.
Too specific? Regret reading this, âwoe is meâ, writing? Well it's too late, you're almost all the way through, so it's better to just finish it all so you can carry on with peace of mind, or else Iâll like, curse you or something.
Not actually, but you get the gist.
Anyway, Iâve said my piece, I've written out my feelings and feel slightly better now that I have because my mind tells me Iâve done something slightly productive now.
I also cheat a lot with reality. You shouldnât be able to see his underskull from a top view, but I do it anyway cause it looks cool. If Mikey Mouse can cheat his ears, I can cheat Sansâ underskull. Itâs the advantage of 2d vs 3d.
Iâm simply donât want to die, I want to live I want to give my children a better life. Help me to escape from Gazaâïžâïž
My home, along with all my cherished memories and dreams, was destroyed. Now, homeless, I struggle to find a safe place for my children.
Our situation is indescribable. the hopelessness of being unable to protect my family, and the desperation of not being able to provide for my children weigh heavily on me.
Please share, repost or donate to my family Please do not ignore my message đđ»đđ
Your donations are important for our survival
: https://gofund.me/b0450bfb
Keep strong, and don't give up. I pray for your safety.
Imagine you wake up with nothing left.That's exactly what happened with us .we moved from having everything to having nothing.In a blink of an eye ,we lost everything, our house ,dreams, memories belongings and our works. We are starting from zero and need your help to climb the leader step by step from scratch.
All the positive words cannot express how generous you are, especially in sharing my posts to inform other donors about the people of Gaza who are still suffering from the terrible conditions caused by the unjust war on Gaza!
Please continue to support us by donating directly or by sharing the link to let others know. Don't hesitate to help people in difficult and miserable times until the dark days are over. đđ»đ
https://gofund.me/c4c2cf82
I'm so sorry for everything that has happened to you, prayers going your way.
Hello đ my †friends !
I am asking you to support my newly created campaign to help my family survive the gruesome war over Gaza to safety and â peace.
Life has become incredibly harsh, tough and full of hardship and painful suffering. We lack all he basic living essentials and necessities such as food, water , medicine and other needs.
The war has made our life hopeless and desperate. My six-member family has been going through the hardest days they have ever experience for almost eleven months due to the disastrous war.
The war has taken every beautiful thing from us, leaving us homeless, displaced and jobless.
The rising prices of all necessary items of life has complicated our living conditions especially when all our savings were spent over the least necessities and needs.
So I am now asking you to lessen and minimize our burdens and loads of life through your contribution. You can help my family survive through donating whatever you can or reposting my messages.
Yours
Rewaa
https://gofund.me/07f652e2
This campaign was vetted by @/gaza-evacuation-funds here.
Stay strong in these times, I hope people see your posts and donate.
Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) â Pt. 6
Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (!) player. Thatâs it, thatâs the plot.
Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, you get your very own samantha from her (2013) lol, time skips as a plot device!, this has an arc i promise, if anybody here plays disco elysium youâll find that i took concepts of âthe paleâ as inspo at some points in this chapter lmao
A/N: Oof this oneâs a little longer than any of the previous chapters. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3
(and just a heads up, this might be the last chapter I post before I kick it off for the holidays. advance happy holidays! if you guys celebrate that sort of thing.)Â
Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt 6
Thereâs a quiet stillness brought by the morning after that makes the problems of a heavier night seem like a fairly distant memory.Â
For at least a few minutes past the moment you blink away the stubborn grit in your eyesâyou donât remember the last time youâve been this well-rested in agesâyou lie, listless, on the soft powder-blue bedding of your twin-size mattress, watching specks of dander and dust drift from the amber sunlight that filters through the cracked panes of the casement window.Â
It floats aimlessly; unhurried. Much like you.
The echo of last nightâs events return to you in sporadic flashesâfragmented and unsteady. The whispered exchanges, the playful banter between you and your unlikely conversation partner play back in your mind, like some half-finished supercut.Â
And the more you recall, the more awake you feel, chipping away the last traces of daytime lethargy weighing you down.Â
âSo, what happens now?â
The sound of a car backfiring breaks through from the outside, like a starting pistol signalling the beginning of another day. A familiar, heavy weight presses against your side, and you thread your fingers through the scraggly fur of the purring feline whoâs taken the empty space on your left, just above the covers.Â
You breathe in deeply, closing your eyes.Â
âI wish I had an answerâIâm still trying to figure that out myself.â
You realize how many questions still linger, a lot more left unanswered. Far more than what you were able to glean, at least. From what little youâve learned, an entirely new moral dilemma emergesâone you never imagined you'd have to contend with.Â
Thereâs a lot of things youâve never expected to happen. Yet here you are.Â
âSeems weâre at an impasse.âÂ
Itâs an odd thing in itself. You keep waiting for the disbelief to catch up, for a shred of sanity to surface and make you reject the situation youâve found yourself entangled in. You should be feeling the same, pesky feelings that pulled you sharply out of your flight of fancy last night; a sense of trepidation for what lies ahead in this tenuous game of two.Â
But instead, youâre here. Now fully awake, and already looking forward to the day with wary acceptance. Looking forward to resuming where youâve left off with that charming anomaly whoâs upended your world, and left you suspended in an exhilarating limbo of uncertainty and excitement.
â...Indeed.â
You crave itâlike the first stirrings of a neophyte druggie teetering on the edge of an irreversible habit.Â
You need another hit.Â
âWhy the long face, little dove?â
Because if desire could manifest into being, it wouldâve been Sylus.Â
âWe can figure this out together, canât we?âÂ
You pick up your phone.Â
ââââ
âYouâre here? Make yourself at home.âÂ
You look at him, deadpan. He looks back at you serenely.Â
Your voice takes on a dry monotone when you respond, âKeep talking like that, Iâm about to cum.âÂ
Thereâs a shocked silence; thenââ
Sylus barks out a surprised laugh, immediately breaking character.Â
You snort. âGood morning to you too, I guess.âÂ
He meets your gaze with a look of scandalized amusement, his smile wide enough to flash teeth.Â
"Good morning, indeed."
ââââ
You two fall into a natural rhythm even before the day comes to a close. Perceptive as he is, Sylus hasnât let you linger in the unease left over from last night any longer than necessaryâwhich to say, should be left buried and forgotten, past its provenance.Â
âSo you could, likeâhypothetically, top up my ascension materials⊠indefinitely?â Thereâs a manic shine to your eyes when you confront him back at the home screen, gleeful and triumphant after you boost almost all the 5-star cards you have of him up to max level. âLike an infinite glitch?âÂ
Heâs content to just simply listen to your excited chatter from his languid perch on the seat, one palm resting against the side of his face as he watches youâhalf-lidded and relaxed. Utterly entertained by your antics.
The slight twitching of his mouth, the subtle tilt of his head⊠each minute shift in his expression makes a whole world of difference from the version youâve known him longestâalmost a lifetime ago.Â
Now he acts so human, so alive, that itâs almost unreal.Â
(Itâs almost imperceptible, but you swear the air also feels different; like the pixelated space around him is bending, stretching, to accommodate this newer him.)Â
âSure,â he shrugs, lips quirking up into a half-smile as he notices the deep crease forming between your brows.Â
He knows the question youâre about to askâcurious thing that you are.
âHow, though? Like, what are âmaterialsâ to you?â You make air quotes with your fingers, making you appear all the more endearing to him look at, in your process to make sense of a world thatâs unfamiliar to you.
âThink of it as upgrades,â Sylus explains patiently. âYou place the order to modify the equipment I use, in whichever situation calls for it.â
âAnd Memory Cards?â
â... A video reel, maybe. Or a restricted case fileâlocked until youâve got enough to trade for the information you want.â
âAnd I suppose the dealer in question here is you?â
He arches an eyebrow. âWho else?â
âHuh,â you say, considering. âSo, Deepspace Trials. Thatâs something you do on the daily? Because I⊠make you?â
âMore or less.â
âAnd you never thought to question that?âÂ
âMm, maybe Iâll start charging for my services this time around.â
You roll your eyes, already accepting his analogy for what it is. âOh, please. With the amount of money Iâve spent on this game, consider yourself paid in full.âÂ
ââââ
You were right about your earlier predictionâthis new Sylus in combat mode is something else.Â
For starters, heâs a lot chattier.
âOuch, kittenâ donât charge in like that.â
âWhy are you using a sword? Donât you like the guns Iâve given you specifically for this?âÂ
âWhat are you waiting for? Make her resonate with me now.âÂ
And, instead of sticking to his lines and responding to whatever the MCâs programmed to say during battle, he focuses on whatever youâre fussing overâno matter how⊠moronic it is.
âAh, fuck! I hate that spinning thing!âÂ
âMove, then. Let me handle it.âÂ
âBlock it, block it!â
âI would, if you werenât halfway across the field. Stick closer to your partner next time, yeah?âÂ
He doesnât say any of his usual lines. Nothing from his scripted prompts. When all Wanderers are defeated, thereâs no post-battle banter between him and the MC.Â
âGoddamn, youâre strong!â You whoop giddily, completely energized by straight winning almost twelve Orbit trials in a row. I guess thatâs what a fully awakened Solar pair gets you, huh?Â
Sylus lets out a chuckle, infected by your enthusiasm. He doesnât sound the least bit winded, despite all the damned fighting youâve put him through.
âWe make a good team,â he allows. And because he likes the little nose scrunch you do when youâre annoyedâ âAlthough your dodging really needs more practice, sweetie.âÂ
Before you could think of a comeback, the pop-up window for the next stage comes up. Ass.
ââââ
Come Monday morning and youâre once again swamped with work.Â
You barely have enough time to scrounge something up for lunchâif it werenât for the persistent reminders from Sylus, chiming in every five minutes once the digital clock on your phone had hit eleven-thirty, youâd probably skip eating altogether.
And make something else than just boiling a pot of instant ramen, sweetheart. Youâre on track for an early grave at this rate.Â
âI could⊠add an egg?â You suggest, unsure. âMaybe cut up some tofu, make it gourmet?â Â
He doesnât even dignify the egg suggestion with a response. Tofuâs a good start. Now, what else do you have in your pantry that has nutritional value?Â
âI despise that,â you mutter, but start rifling through the cupboards anyway.Â
After amassing enough ingredientsâor what looks more like a sad pileâthat might, with some effort, turn into something healthier than your usual go-to fix, you start Googling recipes online.
âtofu easy lunch recipeâ
â10 mins tofu recipesâ  Â
âbegginer recipe using tofu frozen dory mixed vegââ Ping!
⊠Really, kitten?Â
You donât even have to see him to know heâs giving you that look, the one thatâs practically dripping with judgment over your dubious life choices.Â
(You know it all too well. Personally, in fact. You see it on some relatives' faces at the family get-togethers youâre always required to attend.)Â
Great. Heat creeps up your face as you mumble defensively, âStop. Not everyoneâs a culinary genius, okay?â
After that, he lets you be â something youâre thankful for, really. Heâs being too distracting anyway.Â
Swallowing down theâstubborn and suffocatingâembarrassment that's now stuck in your throat, you keep scrolling through Tasty dot co, praying you can whip up something edible with what (little) you have. Youâre fully aware that youâre a grown-ass woman who canât manage a basic life skill and that youâre probably about to burn down your kitchenâ
Another notification pops up.
Pull up your tabs, sweetie. I think youâll find something there that we could put together easily.
Confused, you do as he says. Sure enough, four tofu-related recipes are neatly grouped together in your Chrome browser, ready to be tried and tested. Â
Your eyes widen. âWaitâyou did this? How?â
He doesnât answer your question. He does, however, offer: Want me to coach you through it? Cookingâs more fun done with a partner, Iâd say.Â
-
-
In the end, you manage to make something that tasted way better than you thought you could do by yourself. You have him to thank for that.
âYou happy with it?â Sylus asks, grinning at the satisfied look on your face.
âMhm!â you hum around a mouthful of food. âFanks, Sy.â
âAnytime, darling.â
ââââ
âDo you really have to call me âkittenâ? You sound like a Discord mod.âÂ
Sylus has no idea what a Discord mod is, but judging by the contempt in your voice, itâs clear that youâre not giving him a compliment.
"What do you prefer, then? Princess? Poppet? Sweet thing?" He pauses, tilting his head. "Baby?"
You blush and look away. "... Ugh, whatever. Kitten's fine."
ââââ
Your routine with Sylus settles into a seamless, effortless flow as the days go by; itâs almost second nature, talking to him. So much so that youâd think nothing could faze you anymore.
Well. Almost nothing.Â
A message bubble from an unknown number appears on your lock screen: Hi, sweetheart. X
You almost ignore itâbrushing it off as some dumb prank from a bored randoâwhen, not even five seconds later, another text pops up.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: Its Sylus.
⊠Huh?Â
âIs someone fucking with me right now, orâŠâÂ
+0063-XXXXXX: Nobodys âfucking with you,â kitten.Â
Thenâ
+0063-XXXXXX: Send a reply so I can see how it shows up on my end.
Your jaw drops. âHoly shitâyou can text?? How are you doing that?â and, âDid you just cuss...?âÂ
+0063-XXXXXX: đ
+0063-XXXXXX: And Ill let you know if you text me the question đ
So you do. You tack on a now spill?? at the end for good measure.Â
You watch the âtypingâŠâ bubble appear, holding your breath.
+0063-XXXXXX: Its a complex mix of technical code and harnessing the energy from a dormant protofield Ive discovered, just south of Vagrants Land. Â
+0063-XXXXXX: The energy I got from it felt different somehow from your normal protofield. I figured I could put it to good use.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: Oddly enough, theres an⊠indescribable effect to oneself when youre nearing the centre of disturbance, shall we say.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: I can only decrypt the waveforms by the rarefield border surrounding the AoR. Any further and Im afraid the adverse effects may do more harm than good.
+0063-XXXXXX: But if amplified, it seems responsive to the filament of what connects your signal from deep space to this planet.
+0063-XXXXXX: Who knew it could act as a transmitter to send you something as rudimentary as a telegraph?Â
⊠Sometimes you forget how smart Sylus really is.Â
You: thatâs pretty amazing ?? wtf sylus Â
+0063-XXXXXX: I get by OK.Â
You could practically feel his smugness radiating from those four words. You scoff, shaking your head in a mix of awe and begrudging admiration.
He sends two more messages.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: Im just glad we can communicate through other means, sweetie.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Now save my number. Sy Sy will suffice đ
ââââ
Since your latest discovery that Sylus can now text (!!), youâve been talking to him outside the game non-stop. Itâs like talking to a very active friend who never leaves you on read, and you couldnât be more ecstatic.Â
You: so no one else in ur universe knows anything abt ur situation?
You: no one else acting funny or sumn ? >.>
Sy-Sy (??): None that I know of, no. I prefer to keep it under wraps.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Now that you mention it, Mephisto has been acting quite suspicious lately.Â
You: ?? suspicious-suspicious or just reg suspicious??
Sy-Sy (??): Hes with his other crow friends now. They might be attempting a murder.Â
You: âŠâŠâŠ. is thatâŠ. supposed 2 be a jokeâŠâŠâŠ.
Sy-Sy (??): Im running on 3 hours of sleep, give me a break.  Â
Sy-Sy (??): Also your textspeak is horrendous, sweetie.Â
"Um, helloâ?"Â
Your gaze snaps back to theâvery real, very presentâperson sitting across from you at the table, sporting box-dyed blue hair and a frown. You're at the Annex House; a sleek, new-age Japandi-style bar downtown, just an easy five stations away from your place. You both decided to try it for their infamous Rotten Apple cocktail and, of course, your weekly catch-up.
Khol, your friend of eight years since college, is currently giving you a mildly annoyed look.
Oops.Â
They point at you accusingly while complaining, "Ugh, we donât use our phones when weâre hanging out! Thatâs the rule!"
You smile at them, sheepish, pocketing your phone as discreetly as you could. âI know, I know. Sorry.âÂ
Then, puffing out your cheeks, you meekly ask, âYou were talking about Anna...?â
They roll their eyes but go over the gossip a second time, much to your benefit. Phew.
Your phone vibrates. Twice.Â
âŠ
You sneak a quick, final peek.
Sy-Sy (??): Enjoy your night out, darling â€ïžÂ
Sy-Sy (??): You let me know when youre back home, OK?Â
Biting back a grin, you send out one last text in reply.Â
You: will do !:9Â
Sy-Sy (??): Good girl.Â
ââââ
"Umâso this is my cat, Maru," you say by way of introduction, holding the plump, orange tabby in front of your phone thatâs propped up against a carton of Koko Krunch. Thereâs a slight struggle in lifting his left paw between your fingers to wave at the man on the other side of the screen. "Say hi, Maru."
âHello, Maru,â Sylus greets amicably in return, watching the both of you with clear amusement in his eyes. âCare to tell me the origin of this proud beast?âÂ
You recount the story where youâve first seen Maru five years ago, nothing more than a scraggly little runt at the time, hiding in the gap between a dumpster and the interstice of a cragged wall. You were walking home from a night out drinking with your uni buddies, when you heard the incessant meowing.Â
It drew you in like a sirenâs call. If the siren in question had the vocal prowess of a warbling whale on the brink of death.
Upon closer inspection, the grimy fluffball revealed a stubby, crooked tail and wide, beady eyes. In your alcohol-fueled haze, you briefly wondered if you were staring at a tiny ginger rat.
âWell, itâs definitely all cat,â your friend Bee declared by noon the following day, calmly retracting a scratched and bloodied hand from the disgruntled feline, which promptly hissed and darted right back under the bed.
You hummed in agreement, passing her a wad of tissue.Â
"I couldnât decide between Nospurratu and Catpin Meow," you say matter-of-factly, giving your capricious son a scritch under his chin. "Bee suggested I stick to something simpler, like Maru. Hence the name."
Your explanation is punctuated by an offended nip on your pointer finger.Â
Sylus is covering his mouth, but nods solemnly. âI think Maru is a nice name.âÂ
Thereâs a moment where the two seem locked in a silent standoff, neither breaking eye contact nor making any sort of outward reaction. Just as youâre about to step in and interrupt the bizarre staring contest, Maru gives a slow, deliberate blink.
Sylus takes it as a sign of victoryâor perhaps a ceremonial seal of approval.
 With a faint smirk on his lips, he offers the cat a bow in respect.
ââââ
Youâve practically emptied the entire arcade of plushiesâenough to put it out of business if it were actually, you know, realâand youâre bored to tears.Â
âAnother round of Kitty Cards, perhaps?â Sylus suggests, but a single glance at your face is enough to let him know that youâd rather gnaw off your own hand. Or his. He might just let you.
Sighing dramatically, you complain about the limited playability of the âmini-gamesâ in-game.
âThereâs literally nothing else to do. Same old shit, over and over again.â Thereâs a pout on your face that Sylus wants to nibble on, not that youâre aware of the forming thoughts in his head. âNo new banners. Iâm stuck between Kitty Cards and the claw machinesâIâm bored, Syyyyy,â you whine, stretching the last syllable for effect. Â
To be fair, he has tried to make it a bit more challenging for you. He stopped fucking around during Kitty Cardsâno more extra two cards in exchange for one of yours, no longer placing different colored kitties deliberately in the wrong cups.Â
After six straight losses, your frustration is palpable. The fun is gone.
He makes audible commentaries during each of your six tries at the claw machine. Every time you manage to snag a plushie, he praises you for a job well done (It flusters youânot that he needs to know that). When your luck runs out and you grab onto nothing but air, he wryly points it out through some slight ribbing, but nothing thatâs actually hurtful (This flusters you tooâagain, not that he needs to know any of this).  Â
Thereâs nothing else to do. Itâs like youâve exhausted all you could in this small, curated window of his that youâre privy to. If only thereâs a way to leave the mini-games behind, to do something new, perhaps outside of what the game has to offerâŠ
Oh, wait.Â
âHey, Sy,â you call the man to attention. âWanna try something out?âÂ
-
-
You beat him at Words with Friends by a small margin.
âHa! Thatâs thirty-nine points, buddy.â You crow proudly, after putting down Devotees in a straight column.
He eviscerates you at Zynga Poker.Â
â... How are you so good at this??âÂ
âComes with the package, sweetie,â he says with faux-modesty after revealing (yet another!!) full house, winking like he hasnât just wiped the floor with you.
By the end of it, both of you are in high spiritsâexcept, maybe, for your bruised ego.
ââââ
âSay my name, say my name⊠If no one is around you, say baby I love youâŠâ
âItâs nice to know that we have another thing in common, little dove.â
Â
It takes you a moment to process what heâs implying.Â
You stop singing, affronted. âWhâhow dare you.âÂ
ââââ
âAre you having fun?â Sylus asks, his tone droll as he stands there, hands on his hips and a small scowl on his face. Youâre too busy spinning him around, thoroughly entertained by the number of outfits and accessories youâve forced upon your slightly reluctant model in the photoshoot that's currently taking place.
Itâs more amusing, knowing that heâs fully-aware of whatâs happening. And that you know heâs aware of whatâs happening.Â
Heâs like your personal, sentient Ken dollâif Ken had ashy grey hair, red eyes, and a mercurial attitude.
âI am, actually,â you shoot back, grinning as you plop a tomato stuffie on top of his head. âLook, you two match!âÂ
He exhales a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head in mock exasperation.
Not that it stops you. Fluffy bunny ears, a fish headband, an uncharacteristic haloâyouâre relentless. âHey, can you try a different pose?â
âThat depends on the pose⊠and how nicely you ask.â
âDear Sylus,â you sing, jutting your bottom lip forward and fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly, âcould you please, pretty please, flip the camera off?â
He snorts but obliges, raising his hand to deliver the most effortlessly cool middle finger youâve ever seen. âHappy?â
He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your reaction. You giggle nervously. âYou look⊠hot.â
âMm?â His smirk grows, teasing and predatory. âWhat was that?â
âNothing!â you blurt out, but the pinking of your cheeks betrays you. Heâs definitely enjoying this now.
âI could be convinced to do another one,â he murmurs, voice pitching a little lower.
You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to say the first thing that comes to mind. Stop, you whore.Â
Your nerves get the best of you. Without thinking, you switch to putting the MC back on screen.Â
Sylus blinks, red eyes narrowing as he looks at you, perplexed.Â
âUh,â you shift your gaze between her frozen stance and his idle figure. The sudden silence hangs a little heavy in the air. âWouldâwould you like to do poses? With her?â
He opens his mouth, an automatic responseâbut he stops, expression flickering into something unreadable. Confusion? Hesitation?Â
His brows knit together, and for a short while, he just studies you, the space between you thick with unspoken questions.Â
âDo you want me to?â he asks finally, his voice quieter, almost careful.
NoâI donât want you toâ To pose with someone who looks so-â
perfectperfectperfect by your sideâI only want to see youâ
I want to see youââ
Why do I careâ?
I donât careââI care, I care so muchââÂ
âWhy not?â you choke out, the forced cheer in your voice grating even to your own ears. You shrug, nonchalant in all the ways youâre not. âIâll dress her up real nice, and thenââ You slap a pink bow onto his head. âYou can try to keep up.âÂ
He doesnât move, not paying the offending accessory any attention. His gaze is solely locked onto yours.Â
I donât care. I donât.Â
You take the first shot.Â
____
âWhatâs the song youâre playing?â
You pause mid-mop, cocking your head to the side in slight surprise.Â
âUhhâPedestal,â you answer unsurely. âBy Portishead. You like it?âÂ
He hums, eyes glinting with interest. âI do. Play the rest.âÂ
And just like that, youâre introducing Sylus to modern twenty-first century musicâand to Spotify.
____
From that point on, Sylus begins using your Spotify account to discover a whole new world of musicâquite literally, in his case. Sometimes he steals the control from you, overriding what youâre currently listening to, just to hear the most random track play from your speakers.
In the middle of a mundane afternoon while you're completely locked in at workâhyperpop synths blaring in your earsâyouâre suddenly jolted by the sound of heavy mandolins as an honest-to-god Russian military march blasts through your headphones, shattering your focus like a damn rhino in a china shop.Â
And so with the level of patience that could put the Virgin Mary to shame, you painstakingly explain to your friend the courtesy of not stealing the proverbial AUX cord from the âdriver,â especially when itâs their turn on the radio.Â
The two of you reach a compromise, and thus the birth of your âsharedâ playlist. Sylus reluctantly agrees to explore on his own timeâwhen youâre not using the app. Like when youâre busy with other things. Or when you're asleep.Â
-
-
-
You wake up to the first strings of a Muse song. One of your favorites, in fact.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Good morning, sweetie.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Last night was enlightening. I have you to thank for that.
Sy-Sy (??): Oh, and I hope you could indulge me. I added some songs to our playlist. I think youll like them. We both seem to have a thing for alt-rock.
Sy-Sy (??): Give me time and Im sure Ill acquire a taste for electronic music too. Be patient.Â
You huff out a laugh, lazily rolling over as you check your shared playlist. Sure enough, thereâs twelve new songs on it.  Â
You: awe thatâs great sy :)) and these songz r rly good !! u got sum of my faves here
You: based on what u like maybe u can try looking up sum david bowie, probz massive attack idkÂ
You: iâll add stuff later for u to listen 2!!! <2
You: <3*Â
Sy-Sy (??): Alright, sweetheart. I'm looking forward to it.Â
Sy-Sy (??): â„ïž
____
From the outside, the studio is just another unit among endless rows of dull greyâsmall and unassuming. Tucked away on the sixth floor of a nondescript building, itâs built as unremarkable as the rest.
Through a window stained with a mix of corrosive ochre and burnt sienna, thereâs a quiet humâthe presence of something that wasnât there a week ago. Life has shifted, ever so subtly, from an oppressive achroma to a much warmer vibrancy. Â
Thereâs a faint hint of movement. Inside, the young woman wears an almost-permanent smile, her phone an extension of her hand as she taps away with no semblance of rhyme nor rhythmâonly in a continuous staccato. Her eyes are locked on the screen, as if drawn by an invisible force.
Itâs elusive; this connectionâsomething beyond. Supranatural. It weaves through the room like whispered secrets shared in the dead of the night, beneath a city blanketed in deep ultramarine. Soft, like a wind brushing through a still everglade.Â
The apartment, once steeped in a self-inflicted solitudeâone that went by unnoticed for a long period of timeâcomes alive as an intangible presence fills its nooks and crannies with the steady warmth of companionship. Thereâs a gentle heat to the space now, like the glow of an invisible hearth.Â
The flickering of the string lights, the muted laughter shared with a voice through the tinny speakers of a handheld device, a slight signal interference⊠all feel like the genesis of an impossible story.
Outside, the evening sky is fading into twilight.
And as one looks out onto the street below from the sixth floor window, itâs almost as if the world outside doesnât quite matter anymore.Â
Inside, the air is full of life, in ways it has never been.Â
(if..... for some damn reason..... the tags still don't work i rly don't know what i'm doing wrong T_T i'm posting this from a macbook is that it, is the ghost of steve jobs fucking with me rn)
Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) â Pt. 6
Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (!) player. Thatâs it, thatâs the plot.
Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, you get your very own samantha from her (2013) lol, time skips as a plot device!, this has an arc i promise, if anybody here plays disco elysium youâll find that i took concepts of âthe paleâ as inspo at some points in this chapter lmao
A/N: Oof this oneâs a little longer than any of the previous chapters. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3
(and just a heads up, this might be the last chapter I post before I kick it off for the holidays. advance happy holidays! if you guys celebrate that sort of thing.)Â
Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt 6
Thereâs a quiet stillness brought by the morning after that makes the problems of a heavier night seem like a fairly distant memory.Â
For at least a few minutes past the moment you blink away the stubborn grit in your eyesâyou donât remember the last time youâve been this well-rested in agesâyou lie, listless, on the soft powder-blue bedding of your twin-size mattress, watching specks of dander and dust drift from the amber sunlight that filters through the cracked panes of the casement window.Â
It floats aimlessly; unhurried. Much like you.
The echo of last nightâs events return to you in sporadic flashesâfragmented and unsteady. The whispered exchanges, the playful banter between you and your unlikely conversation partner play back in your mind, like some half-finished supercut.Â
And the more you recall, the more awake you feel, chipping away the last traces of daytime lethargy weighing you down.Â
âSo, what happens now?â
The sound of a car backfiring breaks through from the outside, like a starting pistol signalling the beginning of another day. A familiar, heavy weight presses against your side, and you thread your fingers through the scraggly fur of the purring feline whoâs taken the empty space on your left, just above the covers.Â
You breathe in deeply, closing your eyes.Â
âI wish I had an answerâIâm still trying to figure that out myself.â
You realize how many questions still linger, a lot more left unanswered. Far more than what you were able to glean, at least. From what little youâve learned, an entirely new moral dilemma emergesâone you never imagined you'd have to contend with.Â
Thereâs a lot of things youâve never expected to happen. Yet here you are.Â
âSeems weâre at an impasse.âÂ
Itâs an odd thing in itself. You keep waiting for the disbelief to catch up, for a shred of sanity to surface and make you reject the situation youâve found yourself entangled in. You should be feeling the same, pesky feelings that pulled you sharply out of your flight of fancy last night; a sense of trepidation for what lies ahead in this tenuous game of two.Â
But instead, youâre here. Now fully awake, and already looking forward to the day with wary acceptance. Looking forward to resuming where youâve left off with that charming anomaly whoâs upended your world, and left you suspended in an exhilarating limbo of uncertainty and excitement.
â...Indeed.â
You crave itâlike the first stirrings of a neophyte druggie teetering on the edge of an irreversible habit.Â
You need another hit.Â
âWhy the long face, little dove?â
Because if desire could manifest into being, it wouldâve been Sylus.Â
âWe can figure this out together, canât we?âÂ
You pick up your phone.Â
ââââ
âYouâre here? Make yourself at home.âÂ
You look at him, deadpan. He looks back at you serenely.Â
Your voice takes on a dry monotone when you respond, âKeep talking like that, Iâm about to cum.âÂ
Thereâs a shocked silence; thenââ
Sylus barks out a surprised laugh, immediately breaking character.Â
You snort. âGood morning to you too, I guess.âÂ
He meets your gaze with a look of scandalized amusement, his smile wide enough to flash teeth.Â
"Good morning, indeed."
ââââ
You two fall into a natural rhythm even before the day comes to a close. Perceptive as he is, Sylus hasnât let you linger in the unease left over from last night any longer than necessaryâwhich to say, should be left buried and forgotten, past its provenance.Â
âSo you could, likeâhypothetically, top up my ascension materials⊠indefinitely?â Thereâs a manic shine to your eyes when you confront him back at the home screen, gleeful and triumphant after you boost almost all the 5-star cards you have of him up to max level. âLike an infinite glitch?âÂ
Heâs content to just simply listen to your excited chatter from his languid perch on the seat, one palm resting against the side of his face as he watches youâhalf-lidded and relaxed. Utterly entertained by your antics.
The slight twitching of his mouth, the subtle tilt of his head⊠each minute shift in his expression makes a whole world of difference from the version youâve known him longestâalmost a lifetime ago.Â
Now he acts so human, so alive, that itâs almost unreal.Â
(Itâs almost imperceptible, but you swear the air also feels different; like the pixelated space around him is bending, stretching, to accommodate this newer him.)Â
âSure,â he shrugs, lips quirking up into a half-smile as he notices the deep crease forming between your brows.Â
He knows the question youâre about to askâcurious thing that you are.
âHow, though? Like, what are âmaterialsâ to you?â You make air quotes with your fingers, making you appear all the more endearing to him look at, in your process to make sense of a world thatâs unfamiliar to you.
âThink of it as upgrades,â Sylus explains patiently. âYou place the order to modify the equipment I use, in whichever situation calls for it.â
âAnd Memory Cards?â
â... A video reel, maybe. Or a restricted case fileâlocked until youâve got enough to trade for the information you want.â
âAnd I suppose the dealer in question here is you?â
He arches an eyebrow. âWho else?â
âHuh,â you say, considering. âSo, Deepspace Trials. Thatâs something you do on the daily? Because I⊠make you?â
âMore or less.â
âAnd you never thought to question that?âÂ
âMm, maybe Iâll start charging for my services this time around.â
You roll your eyes, already accepting his analogy for what it is. âOh, please. With the amount of money Iâve spent on this game, consider yourself paid in full.âÂ
ââââ
You were right about your earlier predictionâthis new Sylus in combat mode is something else.Â
For starters, heâs a lot chattier.
âOuch, kittenâ donât charge in like that.â
âWhy are you using a sword? Donât you like the guns Iâve given you specifically for this?âÂ
âWhat are you waiting for? Make her resonate with me now.âÂ
And, instead of sticking to his lines and responding to whatever the MCâs programmed to say during battle, he focuses on whatever youâre fussing overâno matter how⊠moronic it is.
âAh, fuck! I hate that spinning thing!âÂ
âMove, then. Let me handle it.âÂ
âBlock it, block it!â
âI would, if you werenât halfway across the field. Stick closer to your partner next time, yeah?âÂ
He doesnât say any of his usual lines. Nothing from his scripted prompts. When all Wanderers are defeated, thereâs no post-battle banter between him and the MC.Â
âGoddamn, youâre strong!â You whoop giddily, completely energized by straight winning almost twelve Orbit trials in a row. I guess thatâs what a fully awakened Solar pair gets you, huh?Â
Sylus lets out a chuckle, infected by your enthusiasm. He doesnât sound the least bit winded, despite all the damned fighting youâve put him through.
âWe make a good team,â he allows. And because he likes the little nose scrunch you do when youâre annoyedâ âAlthough your dodging really needs more practice, sweetie.âÂ
Before you could think of a comeback, the pop-up window for the next stage comes up. Ass.
ââââ
Come Monday morning and youâre once again swamped with work.Â
You barely have enough time to scrounge something up for lunchâif it werenât for the persistent reminders from Sylus, chiming in every five minutes once the digital clock on your phone had hit eleven-thirty, youâd probably skip eating altogether.
And make something else than just boiling a pot of instant ramen, sweetheart. Youâre on track for an early grave at this rate.Â
âI could⊠add an egg?â You suggest, unsure. âMaybe cut up some tofu, make it gourmet?â Â
He doesnât even dignify the egg suggestion with a response. Tofuâs a good start. Now, what else do you have in your pantry that has nutritional value?Â
âI despise that,â you mutter, but start rifling through the cupboards anyway.Â
After amassing enough ingredientsâor what looks more like a sad pileâthat might, with some effort, turn into something healthier than your usual go-to fix, you start Googling recipes online.
âtofu easy lunch recipeâ
â10 mins tofu recipesâ  Â
âbegginer recipe using tofu frozen dory mixed vegââ Ping!
⊠Really, kitten?Â
You donât even have to see him to know heâs giving you that look, the one thatâs practically dripping with judgment over your dubious life choices.Â
(You know it all too well. Personally, in fact. You see it on some relatives' faces at the family get-togethers youâre always required to attend.)Â
Great. Heat creeps up your face as you mumble defensively, âStop. Not everyoneâs a culinary genius, okay?â
After that, he lets you be â something youâre thankful for, really. Heâs being too distracting anyway.Â
Swallowing down theâstubborn and suffocatingâembarrassment that's now stuck in your throat, you keep scrolling through Tasty dot co, praying you can whip up something edible with what (little) you have. Youâre fully aware that youâre a grown-ass woman who canât manage a basic life skill and that youâre probably about to burn down your kitchenâ
Another notification pops up.
Pull up your tabs, sweetie. I think youâll find something there that we could put together easily.
Confused, you do as he says. Sure enough, four tofu-related recipes are neatly grouped together in your Chrome browser, ready to be tried and tested. Â
Your eyes widen. âWaitâyou did this? How?â
He doesnât answer your question. He does, however, offer: Want me to coach you through it? Cookingâs more fun done with a partner, Iâd say.Â
-
-
In the end, you manage to make something that tasted way better than you thought you could do by yourself. You have him to thank for that.
âYou happy with it?â Sylus asks, grinning at the satisfied look on your face.
âMhm!â you hum around a mouthful of food. âFanks, Sy.â
âAnytime, darling.â
ââââ
âDo you really have to call me âkittenâ? You sound like a Discord mod.âÂ
Sylus has no idea what a Discord mod is, but judging by the contempt in your voice, itâs clear that youâre not giving him a compliment.
"What do you prefer, then? Princess? Poppet? Sweet thing?" He pauses, tilting his head. "Baby?"
You blush and look away. "... Ugh, whatever. Kitten's fine."
ââââ
Your routine with Sylus settles into a seamless, effortless flow as the days go by; itâs almost second nature, talking to him. So much so that youâd think nothing could faze you anymore.
Well. Almost nothing.Â
A message bubble from an unknown number appears on your lock screen: Hi, sweetheart. X
You almost ignore itâbrushing it off as some dumb prank from a bored randoâwhen, not even five seconds later, another text pops up.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: Its Sylus.
⊠Huh?Â
âIs someone fucking with me right now, orâŠâÂ
+0063-XXXXXX: Nobodys âfucking with you,â kitten.Â
Thenâ
+0063-XXXXXX: Send a reply so I can see how it shows up on my end.
Your jaw drops. âHoly shitâyou can text?? How are you doing that?â and, âDid you just cuss...?âÂ
+0063-XXXXXX: đ
+0063-XXXXXX: And Ill let you know if you text me the question đ
So you do. You tack on a now spill?? at the end for good measure.Â
You watch the âtypingâŠâ bubble appear, holding your breath.
+0063-XXXXXX: Its a complex mix of technical code and harnessing the energy from a dormant protofield Ive discovered, just south of Vagrants Land. Â
+0063-XXXXXX: The energy I got from it felt different somehow from your normal protofield. I figured I could put it to good use.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: Oddly enough, theres an⊠indescribable effect to oneself when youre nearing the centre of disturbance, shall we say.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: I can only decrypt the waveforms by the rarefield border surrounding the AoR. Any further and Im afraid the adverse effects may do more harm than good.
+0063-XXXXXX: But if amplified, it seems responsive to the filament of what connects your signal from deep space to this planet.
+0063-XXXXXX: Who knew it could act as a transmitter to send you something as rudimentary as a telegraph?Â
⊠Sometimes you forget how smart Sylus really is.Â
You: thatâs pretty amazing ?? wtf sylus Â
+0063-XXXXXX: I get by OK.Â
You could practically feel his smugness radiating from those four words. You scoff, shaking your head in a mix of awe and begrudging admiration.
He sends two more messages.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: Im just glad we can communicate through other means, sweetie.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Now save my number. Sy Sy will suffice đ
ââââ
Since your latest discovery that Sylus can now text (!!), youâve been talking to him outside the game non-stop. Itâs like talking to a very active friend who never leaves you on read, and you couldnât be more ecstatic.Â
You: so no one else in ur universe knows anything abt ur situation?
You: no one else acting funny or sumn ? >.>
Sy-Sy (??): None that I know of, no. I prefer to keep it under wraps.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Now that you mention it, Mephisto has been acting quite suspicious lately.Â
You: ?? suspicious-suspicious or just reg suspicious??
Sy-Sy (??): Hes with his other crow friends now. They might be attempting a murder.Â
You: âŠâŠâŠ. is thatâŠ. supposed 2 be a jokeâŠâŠâŠ.
Sy-Sy (??): Im running on 3 hours of sleep, give me a break.  Â
Sy-Sy (??): Also your textspeak is horrendous, sweetie.Â
"Um, helloâ?"Â
Your gaze snaps back to theâvery real, very presentâperson sitting across from you at the table, sporting box-dyed blue hair and a frown. You're at the Annex House; a sleek, new-age Japandi-style bar downtown, just an easy five stations away from your place. You both decided to try it for their infamous Rotten Apple cocktail and, of course, your weekly catch-up.
Khol, your friend of eight years since college, is currently giving you a mildly annoyed look.
Oops.Â
They point at you accusingly while complaining, "Ugh, we donât use our phones when weâre hanging out! Thatâs the rule!"
You smile at them, sheepish, pocketing your phone as discreetly as you could. âI know, I know. Sorry.âÂ
Then, puffing out your cheeks, you meekly ask, âYou were talking about Anna...?â
They roll their eyes but go over the gossip a second time, much to your benefit. Phew.
Your phone vibrates. Twice.Â
âŠ
You sneak a quick, final peek.
Sy-Sy (??): Enjoy your night out, darling â€ïžÂ
Sy-Sy (??): You let me know when youre back home, OK?Â
Biting back a grin, you send out one last text in reply.Â
You: will do !:9Â
Sy-Sy (??): Good girl.Â
ââââ
"Umâso this is my cat, Maru," you say by way of introduction, holding the plump, orange tabby in front of your phone thatâs propped up against a carton of Koko Krunch. Thereâs a slight struggle in lifting his left paw between your fingers to wave at the man on the other side of the screen. "Say hi, Maru."
âHello, Maru,â Sylus greets amicably in return, watching the both of you with clear amusement in his eyes. âCare to tell me the origin of this proud beast?âÂ
You recount the story where youâve first seen Maru five years ago, nothing more than a scraggly little runt at the time, hiding in the gap between a dumpster and the interstice of a cragged wall. You were walking home from a night out drinking with your uni buddies, when you heard the incessant meowing.Â
It drew you in like a sirenâs call. If the siren in question had the vocal prowess of a warbling whale on the brink of death.
Upon closer inspection, the grimy fluffball revealed a stubby, crooked tail and wide, beady eyes. In your alcohol-fueled haze, you briefly wondered if you were staring at a tiny ginger rat.
âWell, itâs definitely all cat,â your friend Bee declared by noon the following day, calmly retracting a scratched and bloodied hand from the disgruntled feline, which promptly hissed and darted right back under the bed.
You hummed in agreement, passing her a wad of tissue.Â
"I couldnât decide between Nospurratu and Catpin Meow," you say matter-of-factly, giving your capricious son a scritch under his chin. "Bee suggested I stick to something simpler, like Maru. Hence the name."
Your explanation is punctuated by an offended nip on your pointer finger.Â
Sylus is covering his mouth, but nods solemnly. âI think Maru is a nice name.âÂ
Thereâs a moment where the two seem locked in a silent standoff, neither breaking eye contact nor making any sort of outward reaction. Just as youâre about to step in and interrupt the bizarre staring contest, Maru gives a slow, deliberate blink.
Sylus takes it as a sign of victoryâor perhaps a ceremonial seal of approval.
 With a faint smirk on his lips, he offers the cat a bow in respect.
ââââ
Youâve practically emptied the entire arcade of plushiesâenough to put it out of business if it were actually, you know, realâand youâre bored to tears.Â
âAnother round of Kitty Cards, perhaps?â Sylus suggests, but a single glance at your face is enough to let him know that youâd rather gnaw off your own hand. Or his. He might just let you.
Sighing dramatically, you complain about the limited playability of the âmini-gamesâ in-game.
âThereâs literally nothing else to do. Same old shit, over and over again.â Thereâs a pout on your face that Sylus wants to nibble on, not that youâre aware of the forming thoughts in his head. âNo new banners. Iâm stuck between Kitty Cards and the claw machinesâIâm bored, Syyyyy,â you whine, stretching the last syllable for effect. Â
To be fair, he has tried to make it a bit more challenging for you. He stopped fucking around during Kitty Cardsâno more extra two cards in exchange for one of yours, no longer placing different colored kitties deliberately in the wrong cups.Â
After six straight losses, your frustration is palpable. The fun is gone.
He makes audible commentaries during each of your six tries at the claw machine. Every time you manage to snag a plushie, he praises you for a job well done (It flusters youânot that he needs to know that). When your luck runs out and you grab onto nothing but air, he wryly points it out through some slight ribbing, but nothing thatâs actually hurtful (This flusters you tooâagain, not that he needs to know any of this).  Â
Thereâs nothing else to do. Itâs like youâve exhausted all you could in this small, curated window of his that youâre privy to. If only thereâs a way to leave the mini-games behind, to do something new, perhaps outside of what the game has to offerâŠ
Oh, wait.Â
âHey, Sy,â you call the man to attention. âWanna try something out?âÂ
-
-
You beat him at Words with Friends by a small margin.
âHa! Thatâs thirty-nine points, buddy.â You crow proudly, after putting down Devotees in a straight column.
He eviscerates you at Zynga Poker.Â
â... How are you so good at this??âÂ
âComes with the package, sweetie,â he says with faux-modesty after revealing (yet another!!) full house, winking like he hasnât just wiped the floor with you.
By the end of it, both of you are in high spiritsâexcept, maybe, for your bruised ego.
ââââ
âSay my name, say my name⊠If no one is around you, say baby I love youâŠâ
âItâs nice to know that we have another thing in common, little dove.â
Â
It takes you a moment to process what heâs implying.Â
You stop singing, affronted. âWhâhow dare you.âÂ
ââââ
âAre you having fun?â Sylus asks, his tone droll as he stands there, hands on his hips and a small scowl on his face. Youâre too busy spinning him around, thoroughly entertained by the number of outfits and accessories youâve forced upon your slightly reluctant model in the photoshoot that's currently taking place.
Itâs more amusing, knowing that heâs fully-aware of whatâs happening. And that you know heâs aware of whatâs happening.Â
Heâs like your personal, sentient Ken dollâif Ken had ashy grey hair, red eyes, and a mercurial attitude.
âI am, actually,â you shoot back, grinning as you plop a tomato stuffie on top of his head. âLook, you two match!âÂ
He exhales a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head in mock exasperation.
Not that it stops you. Fluffy bunny ears, a fish headband, an uncharacteristic haloâyouâre relentless. âHey, can you try a different pose?â
âThat depends on the pose⊠and how nicely you ask.â
âDear Sylus,â you sing, jutting your bottom lip forward and fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly, âcould you please, pretty please, flip the camera off?â
He snorts but obliges, raising his hand to deliver the most effortlessly cool middle finger youâve ever seen. âHappy?â
He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your reaction. You giggle nervously. âYou look⊠hot.â
âMm?â His smirk grows, teasing and predatory. âWhat was that?â
âNothing!â you blurt out, but the pinking of your cheeks betrays you. Heâs definitely enjoying this now.
âI could be convinced to do another one,â he murmurs, voice pitching a little lower.
You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to say the first thing that comes to mind. Stop, you whore.Â
Your nerves get the best of you. Without thinking, you switch to putting the MC back on screen.Â
Sylus blinks, red eyes narrowing as he looks at you, perplexed.Â
âUh,â you shift your gaze between her frozen stance and his idle figure. The sudden silence hangs a little heavy in the air. âWouldâwould you like to do poses? With her?â
He opens his mouth, an automatic responseâbut he stops, expression flickering into something unreadable. Confusion? Hesitation?Â
His brows knit together, and for a short while, he just studies you, the space between you thick with unspoken questions.Â
âDo you want me to?â he asks finally, his voice quieter, almost careful.
NoâI donât want you toâ To pose with someone who looks so-â
perfectperfectperfect by your sideâI only want to see youâ
I want to see youââ
Why do I careâ?
I donât careââI care, I care so muchââÂ
âWhy not?â you choke out, the forced cheer in your voice grating even to your own ears. You shrug, nonchalant in all the ways youâre not. âIâll dress her up real nice, and thenââ You slap a pink bow onto his head. âYou can try to keep up.âÂ
He doesnât move, not paying the offending accessory any attention. His gaze is solely locked onto yours.Â
I donât care. I donât.Â
You take the first shot.Â
____
âWhatâs the song youâre playing?â
You pause mid-mop, cocking your head to the side in slight surprise.Â
âUhhâPedestal,â you answer unsurely. âBy Portishead. You like it?âÂ
He hums, eyes glinting with interest. âI do. Play the rest.âÂ
And just like that, youâre introducing Sylus to modern twenty-first century musicâand to Spotify.
____
From that point on, Sylus begins using your Spotify account to discover a whole new world of musicâquite literally, in his case. Sometimes he steals the control from you, overriding what youâre currently listening to, just to hear the most random track play from your speakers.
In the middle of a mundane afternoon while you're completely locked in at workâhyperpop synths blaring in your earsâyouâre suddenly jolted by the sound of heavy mandolins as an honest-to-god Russian military march blasts through your headphones, shattering your focus like a damn rhino in a china shop.Â
And so with the level of patience that could put the Virgin Mary to shame, you painstakingly explain to your friend the courtesy of not stealing the proverbial AUX cord from the âdriver,â especially when itâs their turn on the radio.Â
The two of you reach a compromise, and thus the birth of your âsharedâ playlist. Sylus reluctantly agrees to explore on his own timeâwhen youâre not using the app. Like when youâre busy with other things. Or when you're asleep.Â
-
-
-
You wake up to the first strings of a Muse song. One of your favorites, in fact.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Good morning, sweetie.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Last night was enlightening. I have you to thank for that.
Sy-Sy (??): Oh, and I hope you could indulge me. I added some songs to our playlist. I think youll like them. We both seem to have a thing for alt-rock.
Sy-Sy (??): Give me time and Im sure Ill acquire a taste for electronic music too. Be patient.Â
You huff out a laugh, lazily rolling over as you check your shared playlist. Sure enough, thereâs twelve new songs on it.  Â
You: awe thatâs great sy :)) and these songz r rly good !! u got sum of my faves here
You: based on what u like maybe u can try looking up sum david bowie, probz massive attack idkÂ
You: iâll add stuff later for u to listen 2!!! <2
You: <3*Â
Sy-Sy (??): Alright, sweetheart. I'm looking forward to it.Â
Sy-Sy (??): â„ïž
____
From the outside, the studio is just another unit among endless rows of dull greyâsmall and unassuming. Tucked away on the sixth floor of a nondescript building, itâs built as unremarkable as the rest.
Through a window stained with a mix of corrosive ochre and burnt sienna, thereâs a quiet humâthe presence of something that wasnât there a week ago. Life has shifted, ever so subtly, from an oppressive achroma to a much warmer vibrancy. Â
Thereâs a faint hint of movement. Inside, the young woman wears an almost-permanent smile, her phone an extension of her hand as she taps away with no semblance of rhyme nor rhythmâonly in a continuous staccato. Her eyes are locked on the screen, as if drawn by an invisible force.
Itâs elusive; this connectionâsomething beyond. Supranatural. It weaves through the room like whispered secrets shared in the dead of the night, beneath a city blanketed in deep ultramarine. Soft, like a wind brushing through a still everglade.Â
The apartment, once steeped in a self-inflicted solitudeâone that went by unnoticed for a long period of timeâcomes alive as an intangible presence fills its nooks and crannies with the steady warmth of companionship. Thereâs a gentle heat to the space now, like the glow of an invisible hearth.Â
The flickering of the string lights, the muted laughter shared with a voice through the tinny speakers of a handheld device, a slight signal interference⊠all feel like the genesis of an impossible story.
Outside, the evening sky is fading into twilight.
And as one looks out onto the street below from the sixth floor window, itâs almost as if the world outside doesnât quite matter anymore.Â
Inside, the air is full of life, in ways it has never been.Â
(if..... for some damn reason..... the tags still don't work i rly don't know what i'm doing wrong T_T i'm posting this from a macbook is that it, is the ghost of steve jobs fucking with me rn)