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Summary
You enter THE LAND OF WRATH AND ANGELS as the PRINCE OF HOPE.
It's bright. It's really fucking bright. Everything around you is the same blinding white, almost glowing. Your ears are ringing, you think. Your thinkpan feels a bit like it's short-circuiting, struggling to make sense of your surroundings.
What if, despite their doomed session, Eridan god-teirs through the power of hope alone?
This is a rewrite of Heaven Help Us, my unfinished fic from 2 years ago.
