Sling Tyler

Male. Lives in Hoofington, Ponyville, Equestria. Born on October 16, 1995

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Race

Unicorn

Roleplay Availability

OPEN

About Me

I'm Sling Tyler, and I really don't care for ponies who hates music. It's my love and I do it daily. Oh, also I'm a nice talker. Many say that I appear depressed, yet I'm not. I'm not depressed! Stop trying to make take those pills!

Also, I'm a nice chap. Just remind yourself that I'm still a pal. Well, a pal for music and those who likes music.

Roleplay Type

Asterisk/Dash

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Sling Tyler

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Wall Comment

Witherwind & Varnish Destrier Sling Tyler

November 28, 2025 11:37 am

You’ve just gotten home after a week away, luggage still in hand, keys jingling as you step over the threshold. Everything feels… wrong. The front door was locked, exactly as you left it, deadbolt th... View MoreYou’ve just gotten home after a week away, luggage still in hand, keys jingling as you step over the threshold. Everything feels… wrong. The front door was locked, exactly as you left it, deadbolt thrown, no scratches on the brass, no sign of forced entry. But the moment you cross into the living room, the air hits you like a stranger’s breath. Your house doesn’t smell like you anymore. Gone is the faint trace of your coffee, your detergent, the cedar candle you always forget to blow out. Instead, there’s something clean and citrusy, aggressively fresh, like someone scrubbed every surface with lemon disinfectant and then sprayed febreeze just to be sure. Nothing is where you left it. The throw blanket you’d abandoned in a heap on the couch is now folded with perfect hospital corners. Your scattered mail has been stacked into neat piles on the kitchen counter, edges aligned like a receptionist did it. The dishes you’d meant to do before you left? Spotless, put away, not a water spot in sight. You open the fridge and freeze: fresh groceries stare back at you. Milk that expires in two weeks. A bunch of bananas turning just yellow. Deli meats and cheeses you didn’t buy. Someone has been eating your food… and replacing it. You drift toward the bedroom. Your laundry basket, overflowing when you left, is empty. The washer hums faintly, like it finished a cycle hours ago. You pull open the dresser: your clothes are washed, dried, and folded with military precision, smelling faintly of a fabric softener you’ve never owned. Someone has been living here. And they’ve been taking better care of your house than you ever have. Your eyes drift to the staircase. The wooden steps gleam, actually gleam, as if someone spent the morning on their knees with polish and a soft cloth. There’s not a single scuff mark, not one dusty footprint. The banister shines like it’s been waxed. Then you hear it. A soft thud from upstairs. Another. The muted creak of floorboards directly above your head, slow and deliberate, like someone pacing in your bedroom. A drawer slides shut. The faint rustle of fabric. Water runs in the bathroom sink, steady for three seconds, then stops. Someone is up there. Right now.

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Sling Tyler

*Sling would stand still. Being that he was taught many things about paranoia from his green brother Nitroxus. The one thing about being in a bind, was to get all of your panic out of your mind and in a peaceful way. Sling wanted to get his panic out by screaming, yet he knew for sure that would be ... View More

Like Yesterday, 10:12 pm

Witherwind & Varnish Destrier

The deliberate hoofsteps on the upper floor never falter—slow, measured, almost elegant, as though the intruder has danced this exact path a hundred times before and knows precisely where every creaky board and pressure plate hides. These old houses in the hollow are all the same: wired with traps, ... View More

Like 22 hours ago

Sling Tyler

*Sling would put the gun back into the floor and sigh.* Alright, who ya be? How did ya get into the Sling's Thing? Moi home is house moi, and no other. *Sling would use his magic to turn off the silent alarm. He sat down.* False alarms and random foal in moi home. This day be a trip. *Sling would ... View More

Like 15 hours ago

Witherwind & Varnish Destrier

The little unicorn filly—pumpkin-brown with pale lower legs and a reddish-to-yellowish three-toned mane and tail—was not calm like the stallion standing in front of her. He might look relaxed, but she had already seen the gun he was now trying to hide. Guns kill ponies. Her ears flicked toward th... View More

Like 4 hours ago