#eternityfic

[firephoenix2305]

Me: FINALLY finishes writing Eternity chapter 15 (which somehow ended up at 11k words, but that's unrelated) and excitedly goes to Ao3, prepares it for upload, writes a super happy and cheerful note, writes the summary, etc...half an out of dedicated work later, clicks "preview" to check everything is in order and ready to post.

Ao3:

:(

Not today, I guess

Have the title and a little snippet in the meantime!! 👇🏼👇🏼

(link to the fic on pinned post)

CHAPTER 15 - TO MAKE A PACT WITH THE DEVIL

-An Eccles cake - Eleyn stated, appalled, staring unblinkingly at the contents of the linen basket Crowley and Aziraphale had brought back with them from the kitchen.

-An Eccles cake, yes - Aziraphale confirmed, equally as appalled - The one I didn't eat yesterday, I believe -

-A fucking Eccles cake - Crowley double confirmed, even more appalled.

- It seems like it - Muriel triple confirmed, more confused than appalled. She prodded the pastry with a finger. Nothing happened.

- And you’re sure there was nothing else in that kitchen? - God’s daughter asked, looking Crowley straight in the eyes - Nothing edible, at all? -

- Unless you count iron pots and forks as edible - the demon responded with a sarcastic hiss.

I'll post the full chapter as soon as Ao3 stops acting up, promise!!

<3

[the-lonelybarricade]

A Court of Faded Dreams: Chapter 5

Chapter title: Go, and Enter Eternity

Fic summary: In her grief after Rhys sacrifices himself to restore the Cauldron, Feyre accidentally sends herself back in time. Back in her human body, in her early days in the Spring Court, Feyre must be careful how she alters the timeline as she tries to save Rhys and Prythian from Under the Mountain.

Read on AO3 ⟡  Masterlist

Feyre soaked in a warm bath in the morning light, easing her aching muscles. A day of training followed by an evening fleeing for her life had left her feeling thoroughly battered. She’d had a fitful night’s sleep, as well, dreaming of naga grinning as they chased her through the western forest. 

She laid back in the porcelain tub as she contemplated what she was to do next. After confirming her suspicions with the Suriel, it was time for Feyre to come up with a plan. Her focus was narrowed in on the next big moment before Under the Mountain: Calanmai. Lucien and Tamlin had made no mention of it, but she knew it was coming soon, and she had to decide what she’d say to Rhys. She didn’t know if it was better to tell him the truth—let him into her mind to see everything—or if he was safer not knowing who she was. They were able to survive in the Mountain because of his wit and cunning; he’d treated her cruelly out of necessity. Would he be able to do the same again if he knew the truth? Feyre swallowed back the pain incited from recalling the way that cruelty had tormented Rhys long after they’d escaped the Mountain. The mask he wore had left a lasting tear on his heart, a permanent imprint that chafed at his sense of worth. That wound would still be pried-open and raw in this version of Rhys. 

Then another thought struck Feyre: if she chose to, would she even be able to hide the information from him with a human mind? 

She chewed at her lip in thought. Selfishly, she longed for his counsel. Her mate, her partner in all things. It felt wrong making decisions without him. Even so, she didn’t want to do anything that would compromise him Under the Mountain, especially with Amarantha keeping him on a tight leash. 

Remember that surviving the Mountain will cause more problems than it will solve. 

Feyre wondered at the Suriel’s meaning. Was he talking about the war with Hybern? Under the Mountain was certainly the first of many obstacles she’d have to face anew. 

All your new choices will have consequences.

Her mind whirled at all the uncertainties.  Aside from Rhys dying, she loved the life they’d carved out. She loved being High Lady, she loved her court and Velaris. They’d won the war. She didn’t want to disrupt the timeline so much that she lost any of her family along the way. But how precisely did she need to follow it? Did she have to pretend to fall in love with Tamlin, and earn his love in return? And when they leave the Mountain, did she need to go back with Tamlin, let herself be the stolen bride of Spring once more? 

She didn’t know if she’d be able to stomach seducing Tamlin. Not when her body, mind, and soul ached and sang for her mate. Even just the intimacy of bandaging his arm had felt like stark betrayal. 

The gentle knock on the door before Alis brushed through the room drew Feyre out of her reverie. These were all things she needed to decide on, quickly, and she couldn’t let herself become too distracted. She sat in a low backed chair, contemplating, as Alis quickly brushed and braided Feyre’s hair. Then she quickly wolfed down her breakfast and left the safety of her room to face the consequences of last night. 

⟡⟡⟡

Feyre found Lucien and Tamlin were already in the dining room, sitting across from each other at the table. It looked as if they’d just finished breakfast themselves.

“Good morning,” Feyre said pleasantly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. She offered Lucien a silent nod at his inquiring stare, a silent assurance that his secret was safe, though she was sure he’d already known by the absence of claws at his throat. 

“I heard you had an eventful evening,” he said by way of greeting. “I wish I could have been there to help.”

Feyre nearly snorted at the half-hearted apology, knowing very well that he had heard her scream and hesitated to come to her aid. 

“You look lovely, regardless of your Hell-sent evening,” he added with forced lightness. 

Liar, Feyre thought. But she merely smiled in appreciation for the compliment, however guilt-ridden it may be. With nothing more to say, a thick tension settled over them, emanating mostly from the High Lord across the table who sat with a frown etched into his face. Eyes darting between them, Lucien excused himself after a pointed look from Tamlin. 

A silence pressed in before Tamlin leaned forward. “Are you feeling… better?” He eyed the spot on her shoulder that had been marred by talons the night before. 

Feyre nodded. “I’m fortunate to have gotten away relatively unscathed. It was just a nick, really.” 

The concern that had shone in Tamlin’s eye sharpened to something much deadlier, communicating well enough that he did not find it fortunate that she had been in the claws of the naga to begin with. 

“What were you doing in the western woods at night?” 

Feyre sighed as she prepared herself for this confrontation. She decided to be as honest as she could with Tamlin. “I went to find a creature who could answer any question if captured. And I captured it.” 

Tamlin flinched as his claws shot out, slicing into the cheek he had propped against his fist. He wiped the blood away with the back of his sleeve, the wound already disappeared by the time he’d moved his arm. “You caught the Suriel.” Feyre nodded. “And did it tell you what you wanted to know?” 

Feyre saw the hope and dread in his eyes, as if the two emotions were warring in his mind, unable to decide if he wished she had discovered the curse or dreaded that she might have. 

“The naga interrupted us, but I was able to confirm a few of my suspicions,” she said honestly. 

Tamlin’s mouth tightened. “I’d start shouting, but I think the naga were punishment enough.” His eyes swept over her in disbelief as he murmured, “you actually snared the Suriel, and then took down four naga on your own. A human girl… ” 

Feyre couldn’t help the wicked grin that broke onto her face, one that certainly belonged to the Court of Nightmares. “Is it supposed to be hard?”

Tamlin grinned back, almost despite himself. 

⟡⟡⟡

Tamlin apparently had a busy day, so it was with Lucien that she returned to the training ring. If she had thought Tamlin would be an impatient instructor, Lucien made him seem angelic. 

“Your footwork is unbalanced and too slow,” he snapped in frustration, kicking his leg out to push her feet the correct length apart. 

In truth Feyre had known she’d placed her feet incorrectly. Footwork was basic, and one of the first things Cassian had drilled into her. But Lucien was annoyingly perceptive—she had to make mistakes for appearances sake, even if it placed her at the mercy of Lucien’s wrath. Though impatient, he was surprisingly gentle. He even offered praise when she executed a technique correctly. 

After only a day’s training, her body felt stronger, and it thrummed with a tranquil feeling of rightness she just couldn’t explain. As if training was in her blood. She felt a tug in her heart as she wondered if that part of her was maybe not in her blood, but in a Illyrian sized brand on her soul, with starry eyes and a velvet voice to match. Maybe training was as much a part of her as it was of her mate, another song that called and bound them together. 

A commotion towards the manor pulled her attention away from that singing in her blood. There was screaming in the distance, and Lucien had already taken off before she could register where it was coming from. She followed behind him, albeit much slower and together they watched Tamlin rush through the front doors of the manor, a screaming faerie slung over his shoulder. 

Feyre’s heart clenched as she recalled exactly what had happened to that faerie. She and Lucien followed close behind, her eyes trained on the male who was almost as big as Tamlin, blood gushing down his back, coating his blue skin in a blend of colors that would almost be beautiful if not so gruesome. 

“The table—clear it off!” Tamlin shouted. Lucien needed no further urging as he shoved the vase of flowers off the long table in the center of the entrance hall. Tamlin eased the shrieking faerie face-first onto the table. 

“Scouts found him dumped just over the borderline,” Tamlin explained to Lucien, his eyes darting to Feyre. “He’s summer court.” 

Feyre was at the table, staring in anguish at the suffering male below her. 

“My wings,” the faerie choked out, his black eyes wide and staring. “She took my wings.”

Amarantha. Feyre had learned after the fact that Amarantha had been responsible for this and many other horrible deeds, but the absolute horror and loathing at her cruelty perhaps had never struck Feyre so hard as she felt just then, staring at those black, mangled stumps were the fae’s wings used to be. 

Feyre thought of the Illyrian males that were close to her heart and how precious their wings were to them. She recalled the grief in Cassian’s eyes when his wings had been shredded at Hybern and he’d worried he’d never fly again. Having this fae’s wings removed had been excruciating, she was certain, but an equal part of the torment was in taking away an intrinsic part of his core being. Amarantha’s cruelty was boundless indeed. 

Feyre gently held the fae male down by his upper arm as Tamlin touched a rag to the raw stumps of his back. She cringed in sympathy as he shrieked, feeling the faintest echo of her own pair of Illyrian wings. She remembered what it had been like to taste the skies, and she wished she had her magic back just so she could send that image to him. Give him back that piece of himself in his dying moments. 

“Lucien,” Tamlin said, a command in his voice, and she distantly heard the fox-masked male puking. She was too focused on the blue faerie to notice, or care. She couldn’t take his pain away, not like Rhys could, but she could still hold him tightly and mutter soothingly to him. So she did. 

“She took my wings,” the faerie sobbed. “She took them.”

“I know,” Feyre whispered. “I know.” 

There was so much blood, and every movement Tamlin made to administer aid to his back left the male screeching and sobbing in pain, thrashing against Feyre in agony. 

“The wounds aren’t clotting,” Tamlin said under his breath, but Feyre already knew there had been nothing they could do for the male. Not without Tamlin’s full powers, or her own magic. 

She took the male’s hand and brushed the damp hair away from his face. “It will be alright,” she said, hoping to offer him this last solace. 

“My wings,” the male whimpered, and Feyre tried to ignore the blood she felt pooling at her feet. His blood.

“You’ll get them back.”

The faerie struggled to open his eyes. “You swear?”

“Yes,” Feyre breathed. “When you go, it will be calm and quiet. And you will have your wings, and be at peace,” she promised, recalling the blissful darkness she had experienced once before, when Amarantha had snapped her neck. She knew it would not be a bad thing to fade into, but still her mouth trembled in sorrow for this male who’s death she had witnessed twice. And still she did not know his name. 

“Cauldron save you,” Tamlin said, taking the male’s other hand. She knew the words of the prayer this time and, though Tamlin would find it suspicious, she felt she owed this male enough respect to say it with him. 

“Mother hold you,” she whispered in tandem with the High Lord, who glanced at her in surprise but continued. The fae’s breathing had turned labored, as if each breath required a greater effort than the last. 

“Pass through the gates, and smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil. Feel no pain.” Feyre’s voice cracked, and she reached forward to again brush the sweat-and-blood coated hair out of the male’s face. “Go, and enter eternity.” 

The faerie heaved one final sigh before his hand went limp in Feyre’s grip. She stifled a sob and held tight, continuing to soothingly stroke his hair. Tamlin released him and took a few steps from the table. 

Feyre knew he was watching, knew she should let go. But her connection to the male felt deeper after watching him die in her arms a second time. Now that she understood what it was to have wings. She could only imagine a shadow of the agony he must have endured to have that fundamental part of himself ripped away. Was the pain akin to that she’d felt when Rhys had been torn from her? When she’d felt for the mating bond and felt an empty, hollow pit where her happiest, most-complete self used to be? 

A mournful sob wrecked her body and she was distantly aware of a clock chiming somewhere. Tamlin gripped her shoulder, gently, the heat of his blood-covered hands seeping through her tunic. 

“He’s gone. Let him go.” Tamlin offered a kind squeeze of reassurance and Feyre stiffly released the male’s hand and let Tamlin lead her up the stairs. He wordlessly escorted her back to her room. She realized as they approached her door that she was caked in blood. 

“Feyre,” Tamlin said softly. “Why? How? You dislike our kind on a good day. And after Andras… why?”

“Because I didn’t want him to die alone,” came her whispered response, remembering a time Rhysand had told her something similar. “I’d want someone to hold my hand until the end, and a while after that. Everyone deserves that, human or faerie. And I regret what I did to Andras,” she said, and met his eyes so he could see she meant it genuinely. “I wish I could undo it. I regret I’d ever had so much hate in my heart. I’m truly sorry.” 

Tamlin nodded and turned away, heading back toward the prone fairy. He didn’t look back once as he scooped the broken body into his arms and carried him out the doors and through the garden. 

Taglist: let me know if you’d like to be tagged! <3 @ cretaceous-therapod

[firephoenix2305]

Guess who just posted Eternity Chapter 11 on Ao3!!

Here is a little snippet, please do by all means imagine me giggling and kicking my feet like a schoolgirl whilst writing this, because it is in fact exactly how it happened.

It had been almost five minutes since Crowley had promised he’d be done in a minute; and the ticking of the clock had begun to get on the angel’s nerves. He was about to growl at the door again when the knob clicked and turned as it opened at last. Then, the demon walked out of it, and all of Aziraphale’s thoughts froze on the spot. [...]

- Oh. My. God – she said – You literally can’t take your eyes of each other. That’s adorable -

- We are not...! That was not...! - he aimlessly tried to justify himself, getting more flustered by the minute – Oh, just shut up – he finally settled on.

- This is going to be a long night for you, my friend – Eleyn nudged him softly on the shoulder – What with the thin dark duke sauntering around -

- Oh, for...! - Aziraphale’s eyes went wide open in shock at the nickname, cheeks now a deep crimson – Did you have to?! -

- Oh, absolutely – she smirked knowingly at him and walked out of the room, having way too much fun, leaving him to pray his skin would dial back down to its normal shade in the time it took to close the door behind him.

And, as promised, inspo pics! (For context if you haven't read it, the four of them have to go to a formal fundraising event to get their hands in a very important object which is going to be auctioned; so naturally I had to find elegant/formal getups for them, and these are the pictures I used as inspiration for their outfits!)

Under the cut, In order: Muriel, Eleyn (OC, can't tell you who she is because it's a SPOILER for chapter 3), Aziraphale and Crowley

I changed some things, like replacing the tie with a bowtie (Obv, might I add) and losing the flower for Az, or switching some accessories in the others.

BUT!!!!!

I DARE YOU to tell me that that three-piece suit does not SCREAM Crowley at the top of it's fabric-based lungs!

I mean, GOOD. LORD. My brain just kept seeing David Tennant in that and subsequently shortcircuiting in a closed loop until I said "Fuck it, I'm sticking Crowley in this suit"

I MEAN LOOK AT IT

Ahem. Sorry, just needed to get that out of my system. I feel better.

......Damn, the brainrot.

Anyway! What do you guys think about the outfits?

[firephoenix2305]

It's Wednesday, and I haven't done a WIP Wednesday in ages. Plus, I'm in a really good mood today, so...fluff!!!!!!!!!

So here's a little piece of Eternity's next chapter, chapter 14, entitled "The Destroying Angel"

Their fingers brushed like they had done so many times before and this time, without thinking much, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and intertwined their fingers together. The demon snapped his head towards the angel, eyes flickering down to their conjoined hands and up to meet Aziraphale’s cerulean gaze as a soft blush began creeping up his neck. Crowley swallowed at the other’s sweet, bright smile. - We’re really… - he whispered, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand – We’re really doing this? - - It would seem so – the angel squeezed back – Although, after all this time, it hardly does seem real - -Well, if it is a dream, please don’t pinch me. I don’t want to ever wake up – Crowley breathed. - I would never let you, my dear – Aziraphale replied in the same tone of voice without a second thought, and it was his turn to blush. They stared at each other for a few seconds, smiling softly, their fingers never leaving the other’s. Then, the demon growled a swear beneath his breath and, just for the sake of it, leaned forwards to plant a kiss on Aziraphale’s plush upper lip, his hand travelling up to rest on the angel’s neck. Aziraphale hummed in appreciation and returned the kiss, softly, before they released each other to breathe. - Aww – Eleyn’s voice said to their right, making both of them jump out of their skins – Adorable - - Will you stop doing that?! - Crowley hissed, flustered, letting go of Aziraphale’s hand so only their fingers brushed. - No – she replied with a smirk.

You can read up to chapter 13 in Ao3 or FFnet :)

To those who are waiting for chapter 14, well, I won't make any promises; but my productivity is pretty high this week...

[firephoenix2305]

CHAPTER 13 OF ETERNITY NOW AVAILABLE ON AO3 AND FFNET!

Finally!! I finished writing it! And what a rollercoaster of a chapter; I hope it makes your heart race like mine did while writing it!!

[Post season 2 angst-full with mysteries and adventures and having to stop metaturd, if you'd like to give it a try. Teen and up]

I've written this down on the notes as well, but basically, and I'm so so sorry, I'm going to have to go MIA writing and publishing-wise until at least June. (Nobody died, I just have to concentrate on my finals).

So, to be forgiven (and not having to dance for it), here's a 10k word chapter!!!! Yup, you did read that correctly! Plot heavy, prose heavy (hence why it took so long, dialogue is more my forte) and very, very crazy. Good Omens style. (If I did it right, that is)

<3

Warning: Obscenely badass Aziraphale below cut :)

And actual TW for the chapter: Weapons (swords, spears)

- The building is surrounded - Uriel declared, in the tone of voice of one who is really convinced they have won - Your transport is guarded. I'm sure you've had fun in this wild goose chase, but you have reached the end. You are cornered - - Don't be so sure of that - Aziraphale immediately replied with not a single drop of doubt in his deep, severe voice, making even Crowley get a chill down his spine - I'm not letting you take Eleyn or hurt these people. Whatever that should take - - Spare your empty threats, cherub - Michael shot back, never releasing his eyes - You have no miracles, no way to escape; you're not even armed! - - Yet - the angel snapped, livid, and the archangel's stoic façade finally faltered - You often forget, Michael, that I am the angel of the Eastern Gate. I was created to protect; and I will not hesitate to do it, should you give me a reason- - Who are you trying to intimidate? - the archangel challenged, thought their voice was very slightly higher than before - We outnumber you ten to one - - And you also threaten those I care about – Aziraphale retorted – Believe me, the odds are not in your favor – he took a steadying breath, never releasing Michael’s gaze – Now, stand down and go back the way you came, before we need to make a mess of things- - And if I don’t? - the archangel shot back, though this time there was a slight tremor to their voice. - Then may God forgive me – he breathed, determination burning in his every word.

And another little snippet, because I love this line so freaking much.

Aziraphale knew that feeling; it had accompanied him almost every day for nearly six thousand years of existence. That sinking feeling one got upon understanding that everything they thought to be good wasn’t really that good, and everything they thought to be irredeemably bad maybe wasn’t that bad at all.

[firephoenix2305]

I'M IN THE SHARING MOOD TODAY

(and to prove that I'm still writing Eternity 😅. I haven't abandoned it, I swear, but Uni is killing me nowadays and I have very limited time/energy to write)

Here's an excerpt of Chapter 16 - The Witch's Hut

(and a picture of the witch's hazel, in case you've never seen it)

Crowley couldn't help casting a glance around at the different plants when he walked through the leafy archway atop the ajar garden fence; and he had to admit (though he never would our loud) that he was slightly jealous of the perfectly trimmed Daphne bushes which lined the porch on both sides, all of them chalk-full of colorful flowers. On the other side of the garden, close to the fence, he spotted a concentration of what one would call the witchy kind of herbs: rosemary, lavender, sage, thyme, sweet woodruff; and even an Aloe Vera plant, the size of which was quite respectable. 

The rest of the garden was covered in grass and very common potted plants; but a witch's hazel sat in the middle of the yard, its stump encircled by rocks, sticking out like a sore thumb. With the little light, Crowley couldn't quite make out the color of the flowers, but he was about ninety percent sure it was an Aphrodite. 

Crowley had always had a very lively imagination, which had in this moment led him to picture which plants he would have in a garden like that one: One or two Ficus, for sure. Forget-me-nots over there, tulips over here, Azaleas lining the flower beds, maybe even orchids. And an apple tree, slap bang in the center of the garden, full of fruits, with a big “don't touch” sign on the trunk. Hopefully God had a sense of humor. 

He was gently snapped out of his thoughts right then, when he felt the weight of an angelic hand on his lower back, and he turned his head sideways to look at Aziraphale, who even at the crack of dawn looked positively stunning. He couldn't help imagining his beautiful angel standing in his beautiful garden, picking apples to make a pie; or simply sipping a cup of tea in the morning. 

But that was not the moment to daydream; there would be plenty of time to plan the rest of their lives together after they’d successfully saved the world (again) and the universe (first time). 

I don't know when I'll finish and post it, but I promise I'll do it as soon as I can! The chapters are mostly planned out, so hopefully I can ✨get a wiggle on✨

(@beerok23, di solito non faccio tag, però ho pensato che forse ti farebbe piacere vedere un piccolo update di Eternity 🫶🏼)

[firephoenix2305]

ETERNITY CHAPTER 15 - TO MAKE A PACT WITH THE DEVIL

There we go! Second try's the charm! The Ao3 gods have allowed me to publish this fine evening!

In case the stakes weren't high enough, you know :)

Instead of a little sneak peak, which you already got yesterday, here's the "Heaven memo" I made for this chapter, in a (I hope) slighly better quality!!

(Please note the "Pearl Gates" logo on the upper right corner. Very proud of that one :) )

[firephoenix2305]

Eternity Chapter 10 on Ao3!

- Let go! - she shrieked, trying to force her way out of his grip, to no avail – Let go of me, Goddammit! - - Well, she’s feistier than her brother! – Shax hissed, grinning, while Crowley stared daggers at her from beneath the sunglasses – Though you may want to wach it with the blasphemy, princess. Tsk tsk tsk. What would Mommy say.. - she barked out a laugh, having way too much fun. - Leave her alone! - Eleyn bellowed, tears in her eyes, continuing to wrestle against Aziraphale – You leave her the fuck alone right now! - - Ugh, fine – she rolled her eyes, and Crowley’s eyebrows went down in confusion – As you wish – she teased, then glanced at the demon which held Muriel captive – Kill her - - NO! -

Our ineffable adventure continues!

If you're in the mood for an angsty hurt/comfort post-season-2 fic, go check out Eternity! Divine bureocracy, punchable Metatronturd, reunions, mystery. It's got the lot!

There's one other chapter, chapter 11, in FFnet, if you'd like to catch up with that :)

Link for FanFic.net

[beerok23]

Che sorpresa meravigliosa!!!!

What a wonderful surprise! 😍😍😍

I'M IN THE SHARING MOOD TODAY

(and to prove that I'm still writing Eternity 😅. I haven't abandoned it, I swear, but Uni is killing me nowadays and I have very limited time/energy to write)

Here's an excerpt of Chapter 16 - The Witch's Hut

(and a picture of the witch's hazel, in case you've never seen it)

Crowley couldn't help casting a glance around at the different plants when he walked through the leafy archway atop the ajar garden fence; and he had to admit (though he never would our loud) that he was slightly jealous of the perfectly trimmed Daphne bushes which lined the porch on both sides, all of them chalk-full of colorful flowers. On the other side of the garden, close to the fence, he spotted a concentration of what one would call the witchy kind of herbs: rosemary, lavender, sage, thyme, sweet woodruff; and even an Aloe Vera plant, the size of which was quite respectable. 

The rest of the garden was covered in grass and very common potted plants; but a witch's hazel sat in the middle of the yard, its stump encircled by rocks, sticking out like a sore thumb. With the little light, Crowley couldn't quite make out the color of the flowers, but he was about ninety percent sure it was an Aphrodite. 

Crowley had always had a very lively imagination, which had in this moment led him to picture which plants he would have in a garden like that one: One or two Ficus, for sure. Forget-me-nots over there, tulips over here, Azaleas lining the flower beds, maybe even orchids. And an apple tree, slap bang in the center of the garden, full of fruits, with a big “don't touch” sign on the trunk. Hopefully God had a sense of humor. 

He was gently snapped out of his thoughts right then, when he felt the weight of an angelic hand on his lower back, and he turned his head sideways to look at Aziraphale, who even at the crack of dawn looked positively stunning. He couldn't help imagining his beautiful angel standing in his beautiful garden, picking apples to make a pie; or simply sipping a cup of tea in the morning. 

But that was not the moment to daydream; there would be plenty of time to plan the rest of their lives together after they’d successfully saved the world (again) and the universe (first time). 

I don't know when I'll finish and post it, but I promise I'll do it as soon as I can! The chapters are mostly planned out, so hopefully I can ✨get a wiggle on✨

(@beerok23, di solito non faccio tag, però ho pensato che forse ti farebbe piacere vedere un piccolo update di Eternity 🫶🏼)