Work Text:
As it turns out, you look hella spiffy in these threads. The bowtie you found deep in the corners of your sylladex is made out of a sort of iridescent material that’s woven from blue and red thread, and at certain angles it looks violet (but that’s not why you’re wearing it, no way). The shirt is your yellow, and the buttons alternate blue with your sign in red and red with your sign in blue.
You spend maybe two to the third plus two to the first minutes looking at yourself in the mirror before you realise that you’re doing this because of him. You’re caring about your appearance because of Eridan Ampora, hipster douchebag extraordinaire. Crap. You want to punch a wall.
That’d probably hurt your knuckles, though.
So you just rip the collar off and captchalogue it, intending to take the card it’s on out of your deck and rip it to pieces, but in the process of doing so you catch a glimpse of the captcha code on the back and your selectively perfect memory chooses to hold on to it tight. Fuck.
You lash out with your psionics, shredding the rectangular insulative cloth on your human bed-thing and vaporising the bucketful of genetic material and oh god that smells horrible why the hell did you do that oh god. Gross. That’s so gross.
Dammit, your room smells like shit now. You need to change out of this obnoxiously fashionable shirt and take a walk.
You turn on the air in your room and then decaptchalogue one of your normal shirts to put on. You change into it and put the other shirt back in your sylladex.
What’s nice about the sylladex is that it automatically folds your clothes. There’s apparently a default orientation for everything, like if you captchalogue a bottle of water and its cap in the middle of pouring it out the water goes back into the bottle in your deck. It’s cool as hell. You decide to try it, because you happen to have a bottle of water with you right now.
You take it out of your deck and unscrew the cap, then promptly turn it over. Before the water can hit the ground, you captchalogue the bottle and its cap.
Except you accidentally leave the water, and it splashes on the floor all over your shoes. Goddammit, this is such a waste of time.
You sulk in your room for the rest of the night and don’t even bother to change your shoes and socks because fuck that, it should have worked perfectly fucking fine and it’s not your fault it didn’t. Stupid fucking gravity, stupid fucking water.
Stupid fucking Ampora.