Eosn



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    Wei Ying cries out as he’s thrown to the ground like a ragdoll. His head smacks on the rocks, and static colour swarms his blurry, darkening vision. He arches for the breath that was punched out of him, but a weighty claw settles on his chest, slamming him back down, and he heaves short gasps as he’s crushed, trying and failing to push the beast off. It’s like striking a wall.

    And then, pain. Pain, nothing like it.

    Teeth sink into his arm, and he screams as he feels his tattered bones, shattered, unhealed from the fall , grind together like gravel.
    ---
    But how was that possible? The Mor’du goes after non-cultivators and the weak. Arguably, Jiang Yanli was the weakest of the crowd. It should have gone for her; instead, it attacked Wei Wuxian.

    Wei Wuxian, who is supposed to be the strongest cultivator on the mountain.

    Or: A big mean monster attacks Wei Ying, and secrets emerge.

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    09 Jul 2026

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    Chants of victory grow across the battlefield, and Lan Zhan takes a moment to examine the energy as it fades with its master. It should feel oppressive, cold, and unforgiving, it's anything but. The way it nudges at Lan Zhan’s cheek almost curiously or flicks his palm in the same way his rabbits lick him when he brings them dinner.

    It’s playful, cheeky, and reminds him of Wei Ying.

    ---

    Or: The resentful energy sees its master pining after Hanguang-Jun and vice versa, and decides to get involved!

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    09 Jul 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Evgenia Alexeyevna Rozanova is nine years old when her grandfather dies, and she meets Shane Hollander. This is the first time she speaks to him. It is not the last.

    Or: Zhenya Rozanova grows up. She has some help along the way.

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    07 Jul 2026

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    Ilya hears the door opening before he sees it. He sits up sharply, already angling his phone towards his chest, thumb hovering over the End Call button. Shane doesn’t speak, though Ilya watches his expression shift into something grave and concerned. They both know the routine at this point; it wouldn’t be the first time this week Ilya has ended a call abruptly to avoid interruption.

    The head that appears in the doorway is far lower than he expects it to be, and it takes him a moment to fully register.

    “Zhenya?” he asks, frowning. “Are you alright?”

    The girl nods, her little hand still clutching the door handle. “Can I come in?”

    Or: Shane and Ilya speak often, while Ilya is in Moscow for his father's funeral. Tonight, Ilya has company.

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    07 Jul 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “What are these?” Yuna hears Ilya ask. He’s standing with his back to her in front of the armoire next to the couch, looking up at the shelves. She’d been on her way back into the living room with after-dinner coffee when she’d paused at the threshold.

    Shane steps toward the armoire, coming up behind Ilya and curling both arms around his waist. “Um, trophies from when I was a kid. Like, minor hockey leagues and tournaments and stuff.”

    Ilya moves his head from left to right slowly, scanning the array of trophies and medals on the shelf. “Is big business? Making meaningless awards for tiny hockey players?”

    “They aren’t meaningless,” Shane protests, but he sounds a little sheepish.

    “Yes, I’m sure the…” Ilya leans in close to read the plaque on one trophy, “‘Sportsmanship Award’ for the U7 Snowflake Classic was very prestigious.”

    Shane rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing. “They don’t have awards like this in Russia?”

    Or: Yuna bonds with Ilya, one plastic trophy at a time.

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    06 Jul 2026