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Shaped for the fury.


“I’d suggest we shake on it, but...”

“Here.” Eleanor pressed her palm flat against the glass partition. “Will this do?”

Anders eyed her palm for a moment, but evidently he got the idea, as he pressed his own hand opposite hers. It nearly dwarfed her own, and for a brief, longing moment, the sight reminded her of her father’s hand against her own.

— a mix for a Rapture of another reality, the monsters lurking in its depths, and the girl who fights to see the sun.

fanfic: “Doch’ moja,”

15 tracks
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