exactlysizzlingdonut

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sleepover at sy's by @/yvilonion on twt

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Credits artist @ChelseaW10

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Lingering (Robert McGinnis Paint Over)

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HES SO FUNNY

i forgot how cute immobilized was

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Love this

Elysium pretty much confirms what a lot of us have suspected about Sylus' official age — it's just a random number he picked out for himself. Not his true age.

Just think about it and you'll see what I mean about it not making sense.

So according to his profile, Sylus is 28 years old in 2048.

The N109 Zone gang wars took place in 2036, ie 12 years earlier. Which would make him 16 years old at the time.

Do you guys see what I'm getting at?

Are we supposed to believe that Sylus was 16 or younger in his anecdote?

Are you deadass telling me to buy for even a second that Sylus was hunting down intergalactic overlords for sport, conquering entire planets, and cementing his reputation as the most feared and wanted man in the history of an entire civilisation before legal drinking age? Before he'd be eligible to get a driver's license?

Are you expecting me to buy that this

or this

is basically a high-schooler??? A literal child???

Nah. I'm willing to suspend my disbelief on a lot of stuff but this?

Absolutely not.

Sylus is not 28.

Tbh though I never believed he was. I thought it was just a number he picked for the sake of creating an identity. Someone pointed out in a comment to one of my posts that it might actually be a reference to how old he'd be in dragon years rather than in human years, and I like that theory. Honestly, I've always figured that Sylus was not reincarnated or reborn, but rather resurrected/reassembled—the scar on his chest, as well as the fact that he retains all his memories of the past unlike MC or Zayne, strongly hint towards that being the case imo. So I think he's most likely been a fully grown adult for decades, at least, depending on when exactly his resurrection/reassembling took place.

Man, I need more Sylus lore... I need more info on his planet conquering days, his prison escape, the timeline of his first stay in the Oasis etc.

@/Paperfold

Anyway, I rest my case.

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I LOVE this man with every INCH of my being. This card was so so so so so so so so soft. It was precious. My new favorite card 🤭♥️

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HES SO FUNNY

i’m sorry sylus but your ass is just so fat i had to do it

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Gordiart, 神

Via: https://www.instagram.com/p/DE8icU7Ing0/

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BOOMSHAKALAKA YES GODDDD

I did it for the Sylus girlies and gays 🫶

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our loverboy sylus

sylus is the kind of man who makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe, always finding ways to remind you how much you mean to him. whether it’s his deep, lingering gazes, the way he effortlessly flirts, or how he protects us with unwavering loyalty, his love for us is much too big for fate to take it away

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STOP THIS MADNESS Y'ALL 😭💀

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YES PLEASEEEEEEUUDJFJFJF

what if... I write something about MC humming the song for the departed in current timeline............. in front of sylus.......

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nightplumes but with his longer hair (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

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I need a continuation of this PLSEEEASEEE

I just want you to know who I am pt. 2

Summary: What if Sylus had kept going to all those lantern festivals in hopes you’d be there and what would he do if you actually were. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader Genre: Angst A/N: Finally, here's part 2! I just started a new job and it has taken up so much time already plus school work, ugh. I had this second half in mind while writing the first but for some reason this was much harder to write. So, I hope it's okay and not too rushed! I cannot begin to express my thanks to those who liked, commented, and reblogged! I sincerely appreciate you! Enjoy!💗

Frantic. That’s the only word Sylus can use to describe the turmoil raging inside him. His legs propel him forward, fighting against the sea of people, as though he’s swimming upstream, that block him at every turn. He continues to shove past the crowd, guilt rising with each shoulder he knocks into as he forces himself through the press of bodies. Yet, as the light ahead grows shorter, the gnawing guilt fades-replaced by something sharper. 

Finally, he reaches the end of the light, but… there is no one. Just a dark ominous looking alleyway, silent except for a handful of figures loitering at its mouth, smoke curling around their heads as they take a break from the wave of the crowd. His breath catches in his throat, and he’s unsure whether it’s from the exertion of running or the sting of disappointment swelling inside him. His chest heaves, raw and jagged.

The people lingering in front of the alley’s entrance eye him with a mix of suspicion and indifference. But without pause, Sylus steps into the shadows of the alley, the silence sheltering him. Just before the alley curves out of sight, he halts. A soft sound reaches his ears- a voice, tender, and coaxing, murmuring toward something small. A pull tugs at his chest, instinctively, and he presses himself against the rough wall, peering around the corner. 

There, crouched low to the ground, bathed in a soft, golden ray from a nearby streetlamp, is a figure- shrouded in the warmth of the light- offering a stray kitten the remains of some festival food. 

Sylus’ chest, once tight and heaving with the weight of his frantic search, has finally found its calm. The rush of blood in his ears wanes as his breath evens out, all the tension from the day’s chaos melting into something softer. His eyes are drawn to the golden light radiating from the streetlamp, casting a warm halo over the scene before him. It’s not just illuminating the alleyway- it’s unveiling the person he’s been chasing for so long. A gift from fate, just for him. 

Finally. 

Here you are. Of course, this is where you would be. 

You don’t look like how Sylus remembers. The face he searched for in every crowd, the features that haunted his thoughts- none of them matched the person before him now. That explains why the physical descriptions he had gathered came up empty. But it is you. He knows it with the certainty that pulses in his chest. This moment, this scene- it tells him everything.

Everything about you may have changed, your appearance, your posture, the way you carry yourself- it’s all foreign. Yet, despite the shift in the shape of your form, the core of who you are remains untouched. You’re still the person he remembers, the person who’s always been more than superficial.

It’s the tenderness of your gestures, the way you tentatively lean toward the stray kitten, slowly offering it festival food with such gentle care. It’s the way you softly gaze at the creature before you, greedily eating from your hand yet eyeing you cautiously. It has only ever known fear and danger, like him. Yet, there’s empathy in your every movement, an unmistakable kindness. And, in that moment, Sylus realizes that despite all that’s changed, you’ve never stopped being the same person. The one who shared his soul, who saw the world through the lens of compassion despite its cruelty.

As you rise to leave, Sylus has already slipped from his hiding place, merging into the shadows at a safe distance. But he’s not far from you now. He watches as you step back into the crowd, and he knows, from this moment on, you’ll never again be out of his sight. Still, he doesn’t approach.

He tells himself it’s because you’re not ready, that the time hasn’t come for him to reveal himself. But deep down, he knows it’s not you- it’s him. He’s never thought this far ahead, never thought this moment would happen in his lifetime. What would he say? What would he do? The thoughts loop endlessly in his mind, taunting him with the possibility of rejection. And worst of all, what if you don’t remember him? Fear hits him like a bullet, sharp and sudden, tearing through him with a force he knows too well. At least with a bullet, he knows what to expect, how to numb the pain. But this? This feeling? This devastating uncertainty? He’d rather be shot again than feel this way, raw and vulnerable. No, he’s not ready. Not yet.

Instead, he hangs back, careful to stay out of your line of sight, yet his eyes remain fixed on you as you move through the crowd with quiet grace, effortlessly dodging the hustle and bustle around you. There’s a soft caution in the way you navigate, a careful awareness of your surroundings, just like him. He can’t tear his gaze away, tracking every subtle shift in your expression, every stall you pause at. What makes your eyes light up, what catches your attention longer than it should. 

And yet, at this moment, in this aching distance, he finds a strange comfort. Watching you, following you, even if only from a distance, feels like a small but vital victory. It’s more than he ever thought he’d be able to ask for, more than he feel he deserves. For now, this is enough. But then he sees it—just for a moment, a fleeting glance—your eyes flicking over the couples around you, and he recognizes that quiet loneliness in your gaze, that unspoken thought that mirrors his own. You’re alone, just like him. And in that shared loneliness, there’s a bitter kind of understanding. 

That doesn’t stop the yearning from gnawing at him, though. The desire to step forward, to close the space, buries itself in his bones. He must push it down, he must press on, because he’s just not ready. Not yet. But when he is, he’ll come crawling back to you.

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happy (early) valentine’s day <3