#euryalex

[timothylawrence]

modern au wyll would be sooooo gnc. he told me himself-

YEAHHHH!!!!!!!!!! YEAH!!!!!

#asks #euryalex #my original response to this was funnier but I got shy. BUT ALSO BIG AGREEEEEEEE #gnc Wyll you’re forever my heart

[direwombat]

gift 2/2 for @euryalex for the fc5 anniversary gift exchange!

i'm obsessed with the idea of jacob as a girl dad, so here's him having some father-daughter bonding time with jody!

*background is a photograph by degleex on unsplash because ran out of time and am really bad at backgrounds f;ljdafd sorry

thank you for @detectivelokis for organizing this event! it's been a blast!

#euryalex #jody seed #jacob seed #fc5exchange23 #my art

[lanaevyssmoved]

Shadowheart and Bing Bong

LMFAOOO YOURE SO RIGHT LDFKGJLDGJDGJDGDF

#fray.txt #ask #euryalex

[refinedstorage]

Sorry, with a character this time 😅 Archon foooor Kerry Eurodyne?

AAAAH this took forever!!! Thank you for the prompt! 🧡

#palette prompts #kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #my art #will get to the others soon soon #euryalex #asks #drawing prompts

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

I finally finished all RE6 campaigns and holy hell I absolutely love the found family dynamics - Leon and Claire as Sherry's parents, despite not being together, and Ada knows how much Leon cares about Sherry and she goes through hell and back to help her out- I know it's probably not that deep but I absolutely love it. Leon won't stop adopting people and Ada is like *shrug* 'OUR family :)'

re6 is so overly hated imo, especially since people complain about literally everything. every single game has major faults and issues, but 6 gets SO MUCH HATE.

not to shit talk on every single resident evil game, but let's keep it real here, they're not the best in terms of plot/story. BUT re6 has a special place for a lot of people, and im glad more people are speaking out about how they actually did enjoy the game alot. at the end of the day, they're games lol

i think it's nice that sherry says that leon saved her life in raccoon, but now with remake i'm kinda wondering if the relationship will be the same. even then it's only explained in booklets etc about how leon became an agent to keep sherry safe but it's not super clear that's the reason why. it was never clear even in the og timeline that leon and sherry even kept in touch with each other. like their first meeting is "oh yeah, i heard you became an agent," which i always interpreted as, they haven't heard or spoke to each other in a few years. (which is fine i guess, they have no real reason to keep in contact if they just lost touch after a while.) i still think it's cute though and i love fanons of sherry sending leon like father's day cards lol

but yeah, i think it's necessary to play all the campaigns to get a fully fleshed out experience. especially seeing how caring ada is. i swear i was so surprised the first time i saw ada saving sherry!!!

even then, she's also kinda like approving of sherry and jake!??? ADORABLE UGHGHGH

mother do be mothering tho

#ask heart #heart answers #euryalex #ada wong #sherry birkin #jake muller #re6 #resident evil 6 #leon s kennedy

[shannaraisles]

Devil's Dance - for @euryalex

A commission fic for the lovely @euryalex, featuring her Tav, Tara Lunarsong, and Wyll Ravengard - thank you so much for commissioning me, lovely, you were a real pleasure to work with! The banner was created using one of @euryalex's own screenshots.

Devil's Dance

Aevan will be there.

Tara shook her head, chasing away the inevitable suggestion of long-held fear that came with that thought. Aevan Covaldi, her former master and still a high ranking noble of this city ... yes, he would be at the ball tonight, held to honour Enver Gortash’s ascension to the rank of Archduke of Baldur’s Gate. No matter what she had done, or what he thought of her now, he would try his hand to drag her back under his control. She could not suppress a shudder at the prospect of being once more entirely at his mercy. 

A flicker of motion in the reflection, dragging violet eyes from their contemplation of herself to the entrance of the companion who needed her to be on top of this tonight. Wyll looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt, hands twitching at the finery they had procured for the evening. They had been invited, they would play their part. After all, this was the life that awaited him when his own father eventually chose to step down. He would be the next Duke Ravengard of the Gate, as was his birthright. 

The reluctance on his face was covered in an instant as she turned to greet him, replaced with the warm smile that she had grown so accustomed to from him. No day was now complete without at least one of those smiles from Wyll, and he never seemed to tire of bestowing them upon her. This time, however, it was touched with something that drew more heat to her skin, promising a thrill they had flirted with just barely over the weeks they had been travelling together. 

“Tara, you look ...” He spread his hands, that smile deepening at his own loss for words. “Beautiful barely touches the radiance I see before me.”

She laughed, cheeks warming with almost shy delight at his appreciation. 

“It is a wonder what well made clothing can do for even the most dowdy person,” she agreed, a teasing tilt to her head as she took the hand he offered to her. 

“You jest, surely,” he said, holding her arm out so that he could drink in the magnificence of his companion clad in silk and velvet to match the jewel-dark tones of her hair and eyes. “It is not the dress that makes you shine, my lady.”

“And it is not your finery that draws my eyes, but the good heart and soul behind your every word and action,” was her tender response, fingers squeezing his for a brief moment before her smile faded. “Are you ready to do this?”

He held her gaze for an uncomfortable moment, stone eye and living both seeming to share the pain of his reluctant duty with her. 

“In truth, I do not believe I shall ever be ready to be a part of this vipers’ nest we call high society,” he confessed. “But it is my father’s wish - and our own design - that I attend this evening. I am grateful that you will be at my side.”

“You have no idea how much I echo that sentiment.”

“Then, my dearest lady, shall we enter the dragon’s lair together?” Wyll drew her hand to the crook of his arm, laying his palm with warm comfort over her fingers. “I will not leave your side, I swear it.”

Tara let her relief show in her own smile as she curled her hands to his elbow, the two of them stepping from the rooms they had been given to make their way down to the entry hall. The ball was already in full swing, the new Archduke presiding over the celebration of those who knew his purpose and those innocent of it. As his guests, and guests of Duke Ravengard, they should have been downstairs over an hour ago. They could not put it off any longer. 

The grands doors opened, their names announced to the gathering, and all eyes fell upon them. And what did those eyes see? A half-elven sorceress arrayed like a queen, on the arm of the Blade of Frontiers, the devil son of Duke Ravengard. Those same eyes lingered on the horns that curled from Wyll’s head, one the warning flicker of lightning at the fingertips of his companion when she noted too many recoiling in disgust and fear. It did not matter how much Duke Ulder may declare his faith in his son - the transformation visited upon him by Mizora would forever be the first impression he made upon those he met. The nobility could be ruthless if they spotted weakness; Tara curled her fingers tighter to Wyll’s sleeve. They could not show any weakness here. 

“Ah, my guests! At last you grace us with your presence!”

Gortash’s voice cut through the silence, and it seemed as though the room took a breath. 

“My lord.” Wyll bowed, though his hand did not leave Tara’s as she inclined her head to the devious man sat above them. “Our apologies for our tardiness.”

Gortash’s smile was painfully knowing, the tadpoles squirming in their heads as his regard focused on them. 

“No apology is needed, I assure you,” he declared. “Were my companion such a rare jewel, I too would delay sharing her with the world.”

Tara managed to turn her grimace at the implication into a dignified sneer of a smile, glad when Gortash seemed to dismiss them with a wave of his hand, extorting the musicians to play once more. Allowed to accept the newcomers in their midst by their newest leader, the nobles and their warriors and spies turned back to their own scheming and sniping ... all but one. 

She felt his gaze before she found him in the crowd, standing tall, displaying the scars she had left on him with an almost perverted pride. Wyll must have felt her stiffen at his side, drawing her just a little closer into the warmth of his presence, his free hand returning to rest with tenderness over her fingers at his elbow as Aevan Corvaldi moved to intercept them. The man’s eyes settled with snake-like certainty on Tara, and for just a moment, she was thrown back in time, gripped in the vice of memory so tightly she could barely breathe. She remembered the leash settled about her neck, metaphorical in nature but oh, so real for so many years. She remembered the rules, the punishments, the suppression of her very being, cold numbness spreading through her chest ... and felt Wyll’s hand squeeze her own, heard him clear his throat to address the source of her age-old terror with no fear at all. 

“I notice your eyes lingering where they should not,” the Blade of Frontiers said, his shoulders somehow broadening  as he drew himself up, prepared to step between them if necessary. “You are?”

“An old friend.” Aevan’s smile was still as charming as it had always been, even with the steel-sharp edge of fury lingering deep behind his eyes. “You are thriving, I see, Tamara.”

With the numbness of fear fading, Tara looked into those eyes and felt ... nothing. No anger, no disgust ... no fear. Her lips twitched, almost betraying the smile that wanted to show itself as she acknowledged that finally this man had no hold over her. There was the uncomfortable stirring of the tadpole in her mind, telling her that Aevan, too, had been implanted, yet she felt nothing but pity for his state. After all, if she and her party were to find success, he would at last be defeated in every way that mattered to him. He would have to acknowledge that he was just one among many, and as powerless as so many of the souls he had ground beneath his heel over time. 

“No thanks to you, Lord Corvaldi,” she said, her fingers answering Wyll’s squeeze as reassuringly as she could. 

“Oh, come now.” Her former monster laughed his amiable laugh, but the coldness behind his gaze could not be wholly denied. He wanted her even more, now that she had proven she had no need for him. “You and I were very good together. Perhaps we could be again, away from this demonic underling you have acquired in my absence.”

This time, it was Wyll who stiffened at her side, stinging from the implication, and she who calmed him before he could speak in answer, marvelling at her calmness in the face of such blatant attempts at manipulation.

“I think, Lord Corvaldi, you will find that I am better in your absence,” she informed him. “I have no need for underlings when I have companions who choose to stand by me. But, of course, you would not understand that. You have no use for true loyalty, something I am certain the Archduke would confirm. Enjoy your evening.”

She offered him her sweetest smile, turning away with her blood singing in her veins, drawing Wyll away from the darkness of her past and further into the throne that might contain his future. He stepped smoothly with her, but she could feel that he was steaming with anger at the unseemly encounter.

“Easy,” she murmured. “I have been around people like this enough to know that he cannot do anything to me. But he should not have said that about you.”

“He said nothing that others are not thinking,” Wyll sighed in return, lowering his head so only she could hear the regret in his speech. “For all my father’s posturing, they will only ever see me as the devil in their midst.”

“The Devil Duke of Baldur’s Gate does have a certain ring to it,” she mused, trying to lighten the moment for him as the soft cadence of music reached them through the crowd. “Dance with me, dear heart. Let’s show them you are so much more than they seem to think.”

This drew a faint chuckle from his lips, the sense of acceptance there even as he stepped back to bow to her. It was the minuet they had first danced together in camp so many weeks before, steps that came now as easily as breathing to them both. Fingers barely touching as they passed one another, eyes locked on one another even as the crowd dispersed around them, all eyes on the devil and his lady as they promenaded across the floor in perfect time, each one in sync with the other as easily as their heartbeats found a similar rhythm. 

And there, in the gentle swirl of motion and intimacy, was the intrusion of voices, as the tadpoles squirming in their minds gave them glimpses into the judgement of the people watching them. 

... fiendish power to hold over us ... is this beast to be our next duke ... must have sold her soul to him for this favour ... Lord Gortash’s hell hound ... 

Tara saw the words strike Wyll to the core, saw him falter in his steps. She abandoned the dance, stepping close, curling her hands to his cheeks, drawing him down. 

“No,” she whispered, violet eyes burning her fierce denial into his. “You are Wyll Ravengard, Blade of Frontiers, hero of the Sword Coast. You are a good man, no matter the appearance you wear. You do not belong in this nest of vipers.”

WIthout a second thought for how it might look, or who might be offended, she pulled him to her, lips seeking his to still the roiling recriminations in his mind and sweep his thoughts clean of the judgement of others. Her fingers poured deliberately over his jaw, to his neck, gripping the butter-soft velvet of his doublet between his shoulderblades, dragging herself closer, ever closer into his arms as he clung to her. His kiss was almost desperate, needing to believe her, needing to know he was not what all these strangers wanted to see him as. 

“Tara ...” Her name drawn from his lips in a fervent whisper as she gently parted her lips from his, sharing his breath with her as he shuddered in her grasp. “What am I doing here? I cannot be what he wishes of me.”

She smiled, brushing the tip of her nose to his, fully aware that his father, the source of all his insecurities and uncertainties, was watching their every move. Aware that he would know she was responsible for his son’s happiness, even if that happiness meant abandoning the duty the old man kept forcing upon him. 

“Then be what you wish to be,” she whispered back to him. “Stay with me. Let’s see what we can become together.”

She felt a second shudder tremble through him, taking with it the burden of not knowing if he could walk away from the life that had been proscribed for him since birth. Of course he could walk away; so long as she walked at his side, he could do anything. And here she was, promising she would walk that path with him. 

His lips parted, curving into broad grin as he pressed a swift kiss to her mouth, drawing his courage.

“Be ready, my dear one.”

Then he turned to the company, who stared at the two of them as though they had lost their minds, as though their little display of fierce devotion was the very height of offence. 

“My lords, my ladies, and company all,” he announced. “I thank you for your cold indifference and unfeeling judgement. Rest assured, there will be no Devil Duke of the Gate. I have no desire to be a part of this company of thieves and villains. Please, make merry while you can. Your time is growing short.”

With a flourishing bow, he wrapped his arm about Tara’s waist. She drew the symbol in the air, mouthed the words, and suddenly they stood at the doors through which they had entered, a blast of force from his hand blowing them open with a careless gesture. They turned back to the crowd for a last bow, each noting the fury on the face of the Archduke and the quiet pride in the respectful nod from Duke Ulder before dismissing them all as easily as they themselves had been dismissed. Gortash’s opinion meant nothing to them, but the Duke’s smile was all the approval Wyll needed. Tara’s smile was heartfelt as she nodded back to him, turning to her Blade once more. 

And, arm in arm, the Blade of Frontiers and the Lily of the Valley stepped out from beneath the expectations of others, into a world of their own making.

#euryalex #oc - tara lunarsong #wyll ravengard #baldur's gate 3 #blade of frontiers #blade of avernus #fluff #dancing #wyll x tara #wyll/oc #wyll/tav #politics #enver gortash #duke ulder #oc - aevan corvaldi #so much fun to write this #if you like what you've read please consider commissioning me #information can be found on my page

[mercymaker]

🐹 YOU ARE FRIEND AND I LOVE YOU

How Intimidating Am I?

Aaa, Em, thank you so much you're my sweetest friend and I am smooching you on the cheek SO SO HARD!!!

#asks #ask meme #euryalex

[luv-cat]

😔

#luv.ask #euryalex

[snowberry-pie]

ok SO for the record none of the ppl i follow have profile pics as colorful as yours so i began associating you w peach colors :3 everytime i see that color combo i'm like 'feyfiendish...'

HEEHEE THANK YOU!!!! i love using bright colors in my art/day to day and i super appreciate when people notice that :))

#dissonant whispers #euryalex

[timothylawrence]

the other ask made me think of this so imagine wyll in his childhood just chilling on a bench and every stray cat in the vicinity has chosen him :)

YES YES YES 😭😭😭 THIS IS WYLL CORE 😭😭😭

#asks #euryalex #he’s beloved by all 💕🥺 #I’m so obsessed this is so cute 😭😭😭

[direwombat]

gift 1/2 for @euryalex for the fc5 anniversary event!

some wholesome evie/joey for the soul (also i had no idea what to do with evie's arms so flakfd forgive the awkward posing i'm so sorry ;w;

thank you to @detectivelokis for organizing the event!

#euryalex #evelyn mcdaniel #joey hudson #fc5exchange23 #my art

[lanaevyssmoved]

treato for u. ignore the bite popper got a bit hungy

im happy to share food with popper i'm sure i won't get no kobold diseases

#fray.txt #ask #euryalex #i die tomorrow #thank u em em <3

[isobel-thorm]

@euryalex was the absolute MVP of the year so far and had @beemot do this absolute gorgeous birthday commission of my gal Farowyn, and now y’all get to see it and experience her in all her Google Maps-less glory. Thank you to both of you, I absolutely adore this piece.

#Farowyn the Everlost #Euryalex #beemot

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

thank you for the lily gao love 💖💖 she's probably my favourite VA for Ada

We love lily gao here!!! Along with Nick!

(Also I’m not the hugest fan of Michelle but I’m willing to overlook it because she’s an aeon stan lmao) but I sticker her face out anyways since this ain’t an Michelle phan blog

Anyways this was apparently for Lilys birthday and nick was there! 💕💕💕 so cute!

#ask heart #heart answers #euryalex #ada wong #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #aeon #leon x ada #nick apostolides #lily gao

[shannaraisles]

Don't Look - for @euryalex

A little bit of hurt/comfort angst and fluff for the lovely @euryalex, who is an absolute treasure to work with. Thank you, my lovely!

Don't Look

The moon rose high and full, casting silvered light across the quiet city. In a forgotten corner, tucked away from the thieves and the nobles and all those who were always seeking more, a mirror flickered in the glow of the moon, the reflection seeming to beckon the viewer closer. 

Tara stood before it, her face turned away from that reflection. She could not bring herself to look, knowing what she would see, unwilling to face the reminder of her weakness, her failure. Mutilation inflicted upon her person, at her own hand, by a being somehow less capable of compassion and care than the illithid that threatened them all. Bile coated her throat as she forced the memory of that terrible scene from her mind, refusing to face it, to recall what she had allowed to be done to herself. To acknowledge that she had more strength to defend those she loved than to defend her own self. It was too bitter to revisit, too raw to dare touch upon. Not yet.

“Dear one.”

The warmth of Wyll’s voice sent a shudder through her, even as he stepped from the shadows to curl an arm about her waist, drawing her into his unquestioning embrace. She stood stiff in the circle of his arms, unable to bring herself to reach for him, to accept the comfort he offered. How could she, when she had shown herself to be so unworthy of it?

“Tara, look at me.”

She shook her head, shivering in the grip of her own denial, her own pain, as the heat of his breath warmed her brow, as his lips traced undeserved kisses against her skin. His hands tightened on her, refusing to let her pull away even if she had the strength to try. 

“I am not leaving you to fall into this darkness,” he murmured. “I may not know the depth of the pain, but I know that facing it is where you can begin to put it away.”

“I can’t,” she began, faltering when he pressed a kiss to the curve of her cheekbone, so close to the evidence of her weakness. 

“That is not truth, dearest one,” he said, his voice deliberately low, gentle, but somehow determined. “It is not that you can’t, but that you won’t. And I do know that reluctance, at least in part. I swear to you, you can do this. It will not be easy, it may feel as though it is tearing you apart, but I will be here every moment. I will not let you fall from me.”

Hesitation filled her mind. Could she? Could she truly raise her gaze to his? Did she have any right to meet the eyes of a man who knew himself through and through, a man who seemed to have never told himself any lies and been caught in them? His finger gently curled beneath her chin, urging her head up, his own head ducking to catch her before she could flicker her eyes away from his. 

“There you are.”

His smile was just as warm, just as affectionate as ever. It was as though he saw nothing wrong with her; as though he did not even notice the ugly scar that crossed from her brow to her cheek, or the rheumy white of her damaged eye. How could he look at her and not flinch away? How could he stand to see her so ugly?

His grip on her chin remained, gentle but firm, refusing to allow her to hide from the warmth in his loving gaze.

“Tara.” Her name on his lips was tender, unflinching, denying her any hope of escaping from this loving intervention he had chosen to stage before she could sink too far from his grasp. “Talk to me. Give me the words you cannot say to yourself.”

She stared at him, her mouth working in impotent silence for one long, terrible moment. How did he know? How could he possibly have known that she could not say this to herself and truly mean it?

“I-I ...” She shook her head, her eyes flickering away from the unwavering honesty of his. “How can you bear to look at me? I’m hideous, and I ... I did this to myself.”

“No.”

His grip on her tightened imperceptibly, urging her to look back at him, to see the stern certainty in his face as he stared down her unkindness to herself.

“You are more beautiful in this moment than I have ever seen you before,” he said, already speaking over her objections before she could even begin to voice them. “No, listen to me. You may feel disfigured, and you have every right to feel that. But it does not take away from the beauty of the woman you are. Do these horns make me any less in your eyes?”

“Of course they don’t,” she rushed to assure him. “Wyll, you are beautiful to me, no matter whether you wear horns or not.”

“And yet you will not believe me when I tell you that you are beautiful to me, no matter the scars on your face?”

Tara faltered, unable to respond for an agonising moment, knowing he spoke truth to her even in these terrible throes of shame and pride and broken edges. She twisted in the circle of his arms, fingers grasping the worn leather of his vest.

“But ... I did this to myself!” She bit down on a wail, fighting back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall in the wake of what had happened in Aevan’s lair not so many hours before. “I was weak. I let him hurt me again, and again, and I did nothing!”

“Tara ...”

He gripped her shoulders, shaking her just a little, just enough to draw her attention back to him before he lost her into the maelstrom of her anguish.

“How can you say that about yourself?” he demanded, not harsh but not gentle. “Do you know what I saw in those moments? I saw strength. I saw selfless love. Love for us, for the friends and companions who are yours to command. You would rather endure pain, lasting damage, than raise a hand to those who choose to give you their loyalty and love. Do you have any idea how precious that is to us? To me?”

“Precious?”

He held her gaze, somehow managing to ease even closer into her embrace, to draw her closer into his, all the while refusing to allow her to look away, to hide the disfigurement of her face from his loving eyes. 

“No one,” he whispered to her, each word a tender kiss on the air, “no one has ever protected me as you did today. I do not see a scar, my dearest one. I see all your courage, all your strength, all the beauty of your noble soul, laid bare for the world to see.”

His lips, so warm and sure, laid a soft kiss directly over the lid of her colourless eye, and Tara felt the dam inside her begin to break. Slowly, with at first one sob tightly suppressed ... then another, and another, until at last the storm broke within and without, shaking her form, ravaging her calm, forcing all her pain and pride and broken self to the surface to be cleansed by the devastation of allowing herself consent to simply let it all go. She shuddered and shook, clutching to him, clinging to her only anchor in a storm not entirely of her own making, as her ravaged face twisted and contorted, sucking in huge, gulping breaths between ugly bouts of barking grief for what she had done and what she had lost. And Wyll was there through it all, holding her close, rocking her tenderly, giving her time and space and safety to feel it all and find her way back to him, no longer a slave to the petty cruelty of a man who now could never hurt her again.

Even after, as the storm passed, leaving her hiccuping and small in its wake, ashamed of her outburst and afraid to look up once again, Wyll remained, big hands stroking through her hair, down her back, gathering her close as he swayed to a tune only he heard. Offering kisses to her bitten lips, taking the unkindness of her words from her and returning them with the sweetness of his love. 

“You will forever be beautiful to me, my dearest one,” he whispered to her, each breath more of a promise than the last of the life they might now finally be free to pursue together, once the looming peril was done. “You have my heart in your hands, now and forever more.”

She hiccuped again, dashing the wetness from her cheeks as she looked up at him with a half-smile daring to make itself known on her face. 

“I think that would be rather messy,” she managed. “Better to keep it in your chest, where it belongs.”

Wyll chuckled, hugging her tight as she finally leaned into him, tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder as he kissed her hair fondly.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he conceded. “It would be a little distracting to have a beating heart thumping away in your fist while you’re busy staring down a merchant with a bad attitude.”

She giggled - just a little, just enough that the sound from her was no longer laden with grief or pain, nestling into the wrap of his arms with the sense that she was finally back where she belonged. Aevan had no place here. She would never let him come between them again.  No, she hadn’t looked into the mirror, and she wouldn’t, not for some time yet. But it didn’t seem to matter quite so much that her imperfect perfection had been marred. Time would change her anyway; this had simply accelerated a process that was going to steal beauty from her physical form eventually. So long as Wyll still wanted her, broken and bruised as she was, then who was she to argue? And if others had a problem with her appearance, then she could always tell them to do as she did ... don’t look.

#niamh's writing #euryalex #commission #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #wyll ravengard #oc - tara lunarsong #wyll x tara #wyll x oc #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff #tw: scars #tw: mentions of abuse #tw: mentions of physical violence #but with a happy ending #promise

[captastra]

🗣️❌ for the wip asks? 👀

Thank you!

🗣️Talk about your favourite WIP

I hope its ok if I ramble about a couple!

Forbidden Fruit: this is the one I'm writing for for Year of the OTP's february prompt. A fun little smut scene between Lily and Tangerine where they are not with each other for valentines day but still somehow share a moment together ;)

The Difference One Year Can Make: my other year of the otp fic for Jyn and Cassian. Its another valentines one but I'm excited to start really building the pining/tension between Jyn and Cassian as they grow more comfortable with each other. Of course there will be lsot of teasing form everyone else about them. And I get to include Bix in this chapter!

Haven long fic: so this is Paige's canon story and I'm mainly just excited to write her and Duke falling in love (plus the actually story but Duke is just so much fun to write!)

And two fics for Rhea and Felix, Bound by Twin Moons and The Haunting at Hoffman's Lodge! I love supernatural stories and both of these are supernatural in some capacity (one involves werewolves and witches and the other is the gang solving a haunting at an old lodge) and I will always love these two stories.

❌What WIP do you find the most challenging? Why?

Any fic involving smut? So pretty much any fic involving Lily and Tangerine.

Also any of my long fics. It takes so much work and I keep getting so many ideas that I want to continue working on, plus joining new fandoms means new stories!

So all the stories I listed above are intimidating because I actually want to finish them and get the ideas that are in my head out on paper.

#answered #tysm for asking <3 #wip asks #euryalex