snowcrow simp

perhaps it is. lord knows there are those who do goon to the LIs. do i care? nah. i know my girlies goon respectfully. anygays, i just want to get this off m chest. im no longer a Sylus main because im finally admitting to myself that Zayne and Sylus are now equal in my heart so im a snowcrow main now haha

i joined lads because i saw a tiktok edit about Sylus. i got curious and downloaded the game on laptop (currently using ldplayer) because my phone in incompatible. i started early January this year, just a few days after new years and probably a week before Caleb's release(or resurrection). and let me tell you, i havent dropped this game ever since. i check in everyday except when im sick. i deleted my flo when the period tracker was released and my boyfriends/now husbands accompany me everytime i study (i kid you not theyre always on the background)

i downloaded for Sylus and im staying for Snowcrow. i can rant about Sylus for days but im currently writing this for Mr. Li hhaha.

admittedly, i havent been taking good care of myself since the pandemic. something in me just stopped. i ate more than i used to, i stay in my room, i gained weight, started bad habits, lost interests in my hobbies.

but ever since the Death and Rebirth update, something in me changed. now see, im a nursing student. ill be in my 3rd year now next month. ive already started my clinical duties last year and let me tell you, i was crying every time i go home. i go to my duties and everyone expects me to be a miracle worker. with the main story update, i really felt Greyson's and Yvonne's frustrations with handling patients, so much so that i cried during that scene because i felt it, i lived through it and will continue to live it for as long as i stay on this course. im not going to quit nursing because like Zayne, i signed up for this demanding course to be able to care for those people i love.

recently, i finally had some time to watch ms. lavender's (yeah the youtuber) update on Zayne's Morning Drift card (i have no money screw me). the entire card was cute as hell but it was an eye opener for me too. because of that card, i started going on uphill walks and eating healthier. i started taking care of myself now - lessen carbonated drinks, study healthier, more walks outside. ironically, a game has made me take care of myself. now after years of being stagnant, im pushing to be a better version of myself. perhaps it is a gooner game. but for me, it's a wake up call to be better. perhaps to be an MC that the LIs can brag about. receipts:

Previous

They threw me in like trash.

The gate slammed shut behind me, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence.

The arena felt bigger without him. The sand stretched farther. The shadows reached longer. Even the roar of the crowd sounded distant, like I was underwater.

Then the other gate opened.

They sent three.

Three S-rank Wanderers.

Massive, glistening things—bone and sinew and spikes where their mouths should’ve been. Their eyes weren’t even eyes, just dark pits that reflected nothing. The kind of monsters they never gave us without a partner. The kind they used for executions.

I was twelve.

I had never been more alone.

The one on the left moved first, a twitch of muscle that became a full charge in half a heartbeat. I barely dodged, rolling sideways in the sand, ribs aching as they slammed into the ground beneath me. Claws carved the space where I’d stood seconds before.

I sprang to my feet. My body screamed in protest.

Sylus isn’t here. There’s no backup. If you die, you die.

The second one came at me from the side. I ducked under the swinging tail, grabbed hold of a jutting bone as it passed, and used its own momentum to vault onto its back.

It shrieked—high and unnatural. I slammed my elbow into its exposed neck joint, again, again, until something cracked under the pressure. It bucked, throwing me hard into the sand.

My shoulder hit first.

The crunch wasn’t from the ground.

White-hot pain exploded down my arm. I couldn’t move it. Couldn’t even scream.

But I got up anyway.

Blood in my mouth. Ribs bruised. One arm useless. And still two monsters left.

The second one was crawling toward me now, wounded but not dead. Its front limb dragged uselessly behind it, but its mouth still snapped wide open—jaws peeling back like wet paper.

I Resonated.

I called the energy I’d stored from Sylus’s Evol—traces still clinging to my cells like heat after fire—and pushed it into my legs.

I ran.

Faster than I’d ever moved alone. The sand blurred beneath me.

I leapt, using a jagged piece of bone stuck in the arena floor as a springboard, and came down on the second monster with a scream and my entire body’s weight.

My knee drove straight through its skull.

The crack echoed.

It spasmed beneath me, then went still.

My chest heaved. My shoulder throbbed with every pulse of my heart. I tasted iron.

The third one waited.

It was watching me.

Smart. It’s smart.

It circled slowly, crouching low—predator low.

I felt the tremor in my knees. Felt the way my left arm hung limp at my side. I could barely hold a stance.

“Come on,” I whispered. “Come on, you bastard…”

It moved like lightning. Fast. Too fast.

Claws raked across my thigh as I jumped back—late. Flesh tore. The pain didn’t even register right away, just a hot, wet ripping that made me stumble. I fell.

It loomed over me.

I Resonated again. Pulled what little energy I had left and pushed it into my palm.

I threw it up.

A pulse of pure force exploded between us—raw, desperate, uncontrolled. It staggered, howled, its chest cavity searing with the blow.

I got up, screaming through the pain. My leg nearly buckled. I used my knee, then my elbow, then my broken shoulder like a battering ram, over and over again until the thing cracked, until it broke, until it stopped moving.

Then I collapsed.

The world tilted.

Blood pooled beneath me—my own, I thought. Too much. It felt like too much.

The crowd roared.

I didn’t hear it.

All I could hear was my own heartbeat. Loud. Slow. Fading.

They pulled me out on a stretcher.

My arm was dislocated. My thigh needed stitches. My ribs were bruised—maybe cracked. I couldn’t open my right eye, not from any hit, but from crying too long without anyone noticing.

They didn’t bring Sylus.

Not yet.

They wanted me to suffer through this alone.

I laid in the infirmary cot, swaddled in bloodied linen, breathing shallow. Every part of me ached.

But I lived.

I lived.

And I swore to myself—

Never again without him.

Never again.

Prologue Caleb Xavier Rafayel Zayne Sylus 1 2 3 4(Currently)

The gardens were quieter than usual, trimmed neatly in the aftermath of yesterday’s rain. Blossoms spilled from trellises in trembling whites and violets, and yet their beauty did little to soothe the stilted air between Zayne and me.

We strolled side by side, a pace slower than usual. His hands were behind his back, posture too straight, like he was standing at inspection. And I… I was fidgeting with the cuff of my sleeve, pretending not to notice how rigid he’d become.

"You're walking like you’ve got a sword up your back," I said lightly, nudging his shoulder with mine.

Zayne blinked down at me, caught off-guard. “Habit,” he muttered. “Too many years of drilling it in.”

I hummed. “Not enough years being human, then?”

He gave a faint snort. It was barely a sound, but enough to warm the edge of my smile.

Still, the silence returned—tight and heavy. For all the years between us, for all the stolen childhood days along the cliffs of the West, we walked like strangers performing a memory.

I stopped walking, glancing briefly over my shoulder. Two guards stood at a distance, discreet, loyal. A gardener hummed as he clipped the hydrangeas. No one else. No one close enough to hear.

"Zayne," I said carefully. "What’s really going on?"

He kept walking a few paces before realizing I’d stopped. When he turned to face me, his expression was unreadable—carefully blank, the same face he must wear before delivering judgment as Duke of the North.

I stepped closer. "Why the summons to the North? Why Caleb? Why Xavier? Why now?"

Zayne's eyes searched mine. There was no cruelty in them, only a deep, slow-burning reluctance.

“You’ll know soon enough,” he said finally, softly. “Too soon, maybe.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”

I was about to demand more when he asked suddenly, “Do you still pray? To the old gods?”

I blinked. “What?”

He didn’t elaborate. Just stood there, watching me like my answer might shift the sky itself.

I gave a confused, hesitant laugh. “I haven’t set foot in a temple since I was thirteen. And the old gods… no one worships them anymore, Zayne. Not seriously.”

“But you remember them?”

I paused. “Astra. God of fate and destiny. Nysa, goddess of sea and sleep. Eron, keeper of the gates.”

His mouth twitched—neither a smile nor a frown. Just something haunted.

“Why are you asking?”

He didn’t respond.

A breeze brushed between us, carrying with it the scent of lavender and the distant ringing of bells from the temple square.

I stepped forward, about to press him again—but his gaze had shifted. Closed again. Walls up. The moment had passed.

And whatever truth he carried behind those quiet, glacier-blue eyes… it would not be mine today.

LaDs in Dance of Dragons! au have fun!

The rain hadn’t started yet, but I could smell it.

It lingered just above the stone—cold and metallic, like wet steel. The sea wind had followed us from Driftmark, curling through the Red Keep’s open windows and whispering things no one wanted to hear. The lords and ladies cloaked themselves in silks and smiles, pretending it didn’t matter that the King was choosing another wife. Pretending the last one hadn’t died screaming.

I wasn’t supposed to be wandering.

I was meant to be sitting in a solar with my sister Laena, listening to a septa drone on about The Seven-Pointed Star while courtiers argued over which braids would flatter her best. But Laena didn’t need my help. She was already radiant—graceful, tall, born for court.

And I was... not.

I was the youngest daughter of the Sea Snake and the Queen Who Never Was, a child born of salt and flame, and the shadow of older, brighter stars. My sister was the future—beautiful, poised, and betrothed in whispers before her twelfth name day. I was still being reminded to wear shoes.

So I slipped away, wandering down lesser halls where the Red Keep forgot to polish itself. The kind of corridors where dust still held the memory of boots, and the silence felt older than the stones.

I turned a corner and nearly collided with someone.

He didn’t move, only glanced down as I stumbled back, catching myself on the wall. He stood with one shoulder resting against the archway, tall and angular beneath a black and red cloak. The torchlight caught the mess of silver hair falling over his brow, and the gleam of violet eyes that studied me like I was something written in a language only he could read.

Sylus Targaryen.

You didn’t need a herald for Sylus. You just noticed him—and tried not to be noticed back.

He tilted his head slightly. “Little early to be wandering the halls barefoot, isn’t it?”

“I’m not lost,” I said, straightening.

“I never said you were.”

I hesitated. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Walking,” he echoed, tone bone-dry. “Same as you. Only I remembered my shoes.”

I cursed inwardly. I hadn’t meant to leave them behind. Again.

“I wanted air,” I said instead. “The court smells like perfume and old lies.”

That made him huff a breath—amusement, maybe. Or agreement.

“Rhaenys’s youngest, aren’t you?” he asked, finally pushing off the wall. “You’re the sister.”

“Laena’s,” I said. “Yes.”

His eyes flicked across me like he was measuring something that couldn’t be tallied with height or weight.

“They say your blood runs deep,” he murmured. “Salt and fire both.”

“I bleed like anyone else,” I said. “And so does she.”

His mouth tilted at the corner. “You don’t sound impressed.”

“I’m not here to be,” I answered.

Sylus stepped closer, not quite invading space, but owning it. He had the presence of a blade—sharp, quiet, and certain it would be felt.

“They’re dressing her now,” he said. “Tying her into silks, combing her hair, sweetening her breath with mint leaves. All for a King who still grieves the last woman he crowned.”

“She doesn’t mind,” I said. “She knows what’s expected.”

“And you?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

I met his gaze. “I expect very little.”

The silence stretched. Somewhere down the hall, a guard’s footsteps rang off stone, distant and fading.

Sylus studied me like I was a map he hadn’t decided whether to read or burn.

“Strange thing,” he said finally. “To be a dragon’s daughter and still sound like you’re hiding.”

“I’m not hiding,” I said.

“No. Just barefoot in shadowed halls, walking nowhere in particular.” He tilted his head. “You’re not like your sister.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

He smiled faintly, like that amused him more than anything else.

Then, with a glance down at my bare feet and a soft, dry laugh, he turned.

“You should wear shoes,” he said over his shoulder. “Stone doesn’t care whose blood it drinks.”

And just like that, he was gone, cloak whispering behind him like a secret.

I stood there a little longer before I turned back—toward Laena, toward the gold and silk and the pageantry of choosing.

But I didn’t walk quickly.

just wanted to share the laptop wallpaper i made with canva hahaha its of my top 3

Previous Next

The cold always came first. Before the pain. Before the fear.

It crawled in through the cracks of the stone floor beneath me, settling in my spine like a warning. I was used to waking in the dark, in this half-silence that never quite promised peace. But this time, something was wrong.

I opened my eyes and immediately felt it.

Bootsteps.

Too many.

“Up.”

The voice was rough. One of the Wardens—Torran, maybe. I’d stopped keeping track of their names. They didn’t deserve to be remembered.

A hand grabbed my arm and yanked me upright before I could fully register where I was. I’d been lying on the floor. My back sore. My head against Sylus’s shoulder.

He stirred the moment I was pulled away. “What’s happening?”

“Another match,” the Warden barked. “Time to work, girl.”

Sylus sat up, already rolling his shoulders, his expression unreadable—trained and sharp like always. “I’m ready.”

“You’re not coming.”

The words dropped like stones in a quiet pond.

Sylus stilled.

“What?”

“She fights solo this time,” the Warden replied, with a grin I wanted to claw off his face. “New orders from the Administrator. Says she needs to prove her worth.”

I felt my blood drain. My legs suddenly too heavy, too small.

“No,” Sylus said quickly, already rising to his feet. “No. She doesn’t fight alone. We’re a pair. That’s the rule. That’s always been the rule.”

“Rules change.” The second Warden grabbed Sylus’s arm, but he shoved him off. “She fights. You stay.”

I took a step back toward him, but one of them gripped my wrist tight.

“Sylus—” My voice cracked. I hadn’t meant it to.

He lunged.

He actually lunged, fist glowing red, energy rippling down his arm like fire licking through cracks in stone. Three Wardens tackled him down instantly. His Evol sparked against their suppressor cuffs—red light bursting and dying in a blink.

“You bastards! Let go of me!” he roared.

“Let him go!” I shouted back, struggling against the grip on my arm. “I can’t—!”

“You’re not sending her out there alone,” Sylus snarled, voice breaking beneath the weight of desperation. “I’ll fight. I’ll take her match. Add more monsters, I don’t care—take me instead!”

The Warden holding him laughed and drove a boot into Sylus’s side. “You don’t get to make trades, pretty boy.”

Sylus coughed hard. Spit blood. Still tried to get up.

“You cowards!” I screamed. “You can’t separate us! He’s—he’s—”

I couldn’t even say what he was to me.

Because I didn’t know. Because I didn’t have words for it. Because this place had beaten most words out of us already.

They dragged me toward the gate.

Sylus kept fighting. Kept reaching. Even as they chained him down.

“Don’t go!” he shouted. “Don’t go out there without me!”

I fought every step. Nails digging into the floor, heels scraping stone, vision blurred with tears I didn’t remember choosing to cry. I turned my head, twisting, trying to keep his face in sight for as long as I could.

His red eyes locked with mine across the dark. Burning. Breaking.

“I’ll come back!” I screamed. “I’ll come back, Sylus, I promise—”

“Don’t die!” His voice cracked raw. “If you die, I’ll kill every damn one of them!”

The gate slammed shut between us.

The chains around my wrists bit down.

And I knew—I knew—this wasn’t just another round.

This was the first time I would have to survive without him.